and action. His books
were bread and wine to her, and she absorbed them into her very being.
She felt herself invincibly drawn to the master, "that fount of wisdom
and goodness," and it was her great privilege during these years to be
brought into personal relations with him. From the first he showed her
a marked interest and sympathy, which became for her one of the most
valued possessions of her life. He criticised her work with the fine
appreciation and discrimination that made him quick to discern the
quality of her talent as well as of her personality, and he was no doubt
attracted by her almost transparent sincerity and singleness of soul, as
well as by the simplicity and modesty that would have been unusual even
in a person not gifted. He constituted himself, in a way, her literary
mentor, advised her as to the books she should read and the attitude of
mind she should cultivate. For some years he corresponded with her very
faithfully; his letters are full of noble and characteristic utterances,
and give evidence of a warm regard that in itself was a stimulus and
a high incentive. But encouragement even from so illustrious a source
failed to elate the young poetess, or even to give her a due sense of
the importance and value of her work, or the dignity of her vocation.
We have already alluded to her modesty in her unwillingness to
assert herself or claim any prerogative,--something even morbid
and exaggerated, which we know not how to define, whether as over-
sensitiveness or indifference. Once finished, the heat and glow of
composition spent, her writings apparently ceased to interest her. She
often resented any allusion to them on the part of intimate friends, and
the public verdict as to their excellence could not reassure or satisfy
her. The explanation is not far, perhaps, to seek. Was it not the
"Ewig-Weibliche" that allows no prestige but its own? Emma Lazarus was
a true woman, too distinctly feminine to wish to be exceptional, or to
stand alone and apart, even by virtue of superiority.

A word now as to her life and surroundings. She was one of a family of
seven, and her parents were both living. Her winters were passed in
New York, and her summers by the sea. In both places her life was
essentially quiet and retired. The success of her book had been mainly
in the world of letters. In no wise tricked out to catch the public
eye, her writings had not yet made her a conspicuous figure, but were
destined slo