oman, and morbidly exaggerating her own slight
personal defects, Margaret seemed to long, as it were, to transfuse
with her force this nymph-like form, and to fill her to glowing with
her own lyric fire. No drop of envy tainted the sisterly love,
with which she sought by genial sympathy thus to live in another's
experience, to be her guardian-angel, to shield her from contact with
the unworthy, to rouse each generous impulse, to invigorate thought
by truth incarnate in beauty, and with unfelt ministry to weave bright
threads in her web of fate. Thus more and more Margaret became
an object of respectful interest, in whose honor, magnanimity and
strength I learned implicitly to trust.

Separation, however, hindered our growing acquaintance, as we both
left Cambridge, and, with the exception of a few chance meetings in
Boston and a ramble or two in the glens and on the beaches of Rhode
Island, held no further intercourse till the summer of 1839, when, as
has been already said, the friendship, long before rooted, grew up and
leafed and bloomed.

II.

A CLUE.

* * * * *

I have no hope of conveying to readers my sense of the beauty of our
relation, as it lies in the past with brightness falling on it from
Margaret's risen spirit. It would be like printing a chapter of
autobiography, to describe what is so grateful in memory,
its influence upon one's self. And much of her inner life, as
confidentially disclosed, could not be represented without betraying
a sacred trust. All that can be done is to open the outer courts, and
give a clue for loving hearts to follow. To such these few sentences
may serve as a guide.

'When I feel, as I do this morning, the poem of existence, I
am repaid for all trial. The bitterness of wounded affection,
the disgust at unworthy care, the aching sense of how far
deeds are transcended by our lowest aspirations, pass away as
I lean on the bosom of Nature, and inhale new life from her
breath. Could but love, like knowledge, be its own reward!'

'Oftentimes I have found in those of my own sex more
gentleness, grace, and purity, than in myself; but seldom the
heroism which I feel within my own breast. I blame not those
who think the heart cannot bleed because it is so strong;
but little they dream of what lies concealed beneath the
determined courage. Yet mine has been the Spartan sternness,
smiling wh