immediately called upon us, and when she
went out I could not help exclaiming, "Wife, were ever hearts taken by
storm like that!" Storm, the word would be, according to the usage
of the phrase; but it was the very contrary, a perfect simplicity and
kindliness. But she was capable, too, of righteous wrath, as I had more
than one occasion afterwards to see. Indeed, I was once the object of
it myself. It was sometime after I left New Bedford, that, in writing a
review of the admirable Life of Blanco White by the Rev. J. H. Thom,
of Liverpool, while I spoke with warm appreciation of his character,
I commented with regret upon his saying, toward the close of his life,
that he did not care whether he should live hereafter; and I happened
to use the phrase, "He died and made no sign," without thinking of the
miserable Cardinal Beaufort, to whom Shakespeare applies it. Aunt Mary
immediately came down upon me with a letter of towering indignation for
my intolerance. I replied to her, saying that if ever I should be so
[68] happy as to arrive at the blessed world where I believed that she
and Blanco White would be, and they were not too far beyond me for me to
have any communion with them, she would see that I was guilty of no such
exclusiveness as she had ascribed to me. She was pacified, I think, and
we went on, as good friends as ever. Her religious opinions were of the
most catholic stamp, and in one respect they were peculiar. The Friends'
idea of the "inward light" seemed to have become with her coincident
with the idea of the Author of all light; and when speaking of the
Supreme Being, she would never say "God," but "that Influence." That
Influence was constantly with her; and she carried the idea so far as
to believe that it prompted her daily action, and decided for her every
question of duty.

Miss Eliza Rotch had come from her English home shortly before my going
to New Bedford, and had brought, with her English education and sense,
more than the ordinary English powers of conversation. She, like all her
family, had been bred in the Friends' Society; and she came with many
of them to my church. She was a most remarkable hearer. With her bright
face, and her full, speaking eye, and interested especially, no doubt,
in the new kind of ministration to which she was listening, she gave me
her whole attention, often slightly nodding her assent, unconsciously to
herself and unobserved by others. She married Professor John Farr