delicate hand and without an erasure. Upon its publication
it was at once recognised as a production of real genius, inimitable
in its kind, and neither the popular verdict nor the verdict of the
children as to its merits has ever changed.

Mrs. Prentiss, as has been stated already, began to write for the press
at an early age. But from the time of her going to Richmond till 1853--a
period of thirteen years--her pen was well nigh idle, except in the way
of correspondence. When, therefore, she gave herself again to literary
labor, it was with a largely increased fund of knowledge and experience
upon which to draw. These thirteen years had taught her rich lessons,
both in literature and in life. They had been especially fruitful in
revealing to her the heart of childhood and quickening her sympathy with
its joys and sorrows. And all these lessons prepared her to write Little
Susy's Six Birthdays and the other Susy books.

The year 1854 was marked by the birth of her fourth child, and by the
publication of _The Flower of the Family._ This work was received with
great favor both at home and abroad. It was soon translated into French
under the title, _La Fleur de la Famille,_ and later into German under
the title, _Die Perle der Familie_. In both languages it received the
warmest praise.

In a letter to her friend Mrs. Clark, of Portland, she thus refers to
this book:

I long to have it doing good. I never had such desires about anything
in my life; and I never sat down to write without first praying that I
might not be suffered to write anything that would do harm, and that, on
the contrary, I might be taught to say what would do good. And it
has been a great comfort to me that every word of praise I ever have
received from others concerning it has been "it will do good," and this
I have had from so many sources that amid much trial and sickness ever
since its publication, I have had rays of sunshine creeping in now and
then to cheer and sustain me.

To the same friend, just bereft of her two children, she writes a few
months later:

Is it possible, is it possible that you are made childless? I feel
distressed for you, my dear friend; I long to fly to you and weep with
you; it seems as if I _must_ say or do something to comfort you. But God
only can help you now, and how thankful I am for a throne of grace and
power where I can commend you, again and again, to Him who doeth all
things well.

I never realise my own