‘  were in entire unison. Mr. Child shared his wife's enthusiasms, and was very proud of her. Their affection, never paraded, was always manifest. After Mr. Child's death, Mrs. Child, in speaking of the future life, said, “ I believe it would be of small value to me if I were not united to him.” ’ In this connection I cannot forbear to give an extract from some reminiscences of her husband, which she left among her papers, which, better than any words of mine, will convey an idea of their simple and beautiful home-life:—
In 1852 we made a humble home in Wayland, Mass., where we spent twenty-two pleasant years entirely alone, without any domestic, mutually serving each other, and dependent upon each other for intellectual companionship. I always depended on his richly stored mind, which was able and ready to furnish needed information on any subject. He was my walking dictionary of many languages, my Universal Encyclopaedia. In his old age he was as affectionate and de voted as when the lover of my youth; nay, he manifested even more tenderness. He was often singing,—There's nothing half so sweet in lifeVery often, when he passed by me, he would lay his hand softly on my head and murmur, “Carum caput.” . . . But what I remember with the most tender gratitude is his uniform patience and forbearance with my faults.... He never would see anything but the bright side of my character.
As Love's old dream.