rtist in
assorted rags and home-made dyes. When the visitors were safely outside
the door, Mrs. Prentiss' friend turned to her with the exclamation,
"What tact you have! She really thought you were interested in her
work!" The quick blood sprang into Mrs. Prentiss' face, and she turned
upon her friend a look of amazement and rebuke. "Tact!" she said, "I
despise such tact!--do you think _I would look or act a lie?_"

She was an exceedingly practical woman, not a dreamer. A systematic,
thorough housekeeper, with as exalted ideals in all the affairs which
pertain to good housewifery as in those matters which are generally
thought to transcend these humble occupations. Like Solomon's virtuous
woman she "looked well after the ways of her household." Methodical,
careful of minutes, simple in her tastes, abstemious, and therefore
enjoying evenly good health in spite of her delicate constitution--this
is the secret of her accomplishing so much. Yet all this foundation of
exactness and diligence was so "rounded with leafy gracefulness" that
she never seemed angular or unyielding.

With her children she was a model disciplinarian, exceedingly strict, a
wise law-maker; yet withal a tender, devoted, self-sacrificing mother.
I have never seen such exact obedience required and given--or a more
idolized mother. "Mamma's" word was indeed _Law_, but--O, happy
combination!--it was also _Gospel_!

How warm and true her friendship was! How little of selfishness in all
her intercourse with other women! How well she loved to be of _service_
to her friends! How anxious that each should reach her highest
possibilities of attainment! I record with deepest sense of obligation
the cordial, generous, sympathetic assistance of many kinds extended by
her to me during our whole acquaintance. To every earnest worker in any
field she gladly "lent a hand," rejoicing in all the successes of others
as if they were her own.

But if weakness, or trouble, or sorrow of any sort or degree overtook
one she straightway became as one of God's own ministering spirits--an
angel of strength and consolation. Always more eager, however, that
_souls should grow than that pain should cease_. Volumes could be made
of her letters to friends in sorrow. One tender monotone steals through
them all,--

'Come unto me, my kindred, I enfold you
In an embrace to sufferers only known;
Close to this heart I tenderly will hold you,
Suppress no sigh, keep back no t