Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Half Title
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Ministering women
 Florence Nightingale
 Mary L. Ware
 Miss Marsh
 Mrs. Sherman
 Charlotte Bronte
 Margaret Fuller
 Jenny Lind
 Mrs. Fry
 Mrs. Sherwood
 Mrs. Hannah More
 Rosa Bonheur
 Elizabeth Blackwell
 Back Matter
 Back Cover

Title: Heroines of our time
Full Citation
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00015697/00001
 Material Information
Title: Heroines of our time being sketches of the lives of eminent women, with examples of their benevolent works, truthful lives, and noble deeds
Physical Description: viii, 280 p., 6 leaves of plates : ill. (some col.), ports. ; 18 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Johnson, Joseph, b. 1822
Stanesby, Samuel ( Illuminator )
Bessent, T ( Printer of plates )
Darton & Co ( Publisher )
Publisher: Darton and Co.
Place of Publication: London
Publication Date: 1860
Copyright Date: 1860
Edition: 4th ed., enl.
Subject: Humanitarianism   ( lcsh )
Women in church work   ( lcsh )
Women heroes   ( lcsh )
Women -- Biography   ( lcsh )
Gold stamped cloth (Binding) -- 1860   ( local )
Biographies -- 1860   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1860
Genre: Gold stamped cloth (Binding)   ( local )
Biographies   ( rbgenr )
collective biography   ( marcgt )
non-fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
Statement of Responsibility: by the author of "Famous boys."
General Note: Date of publication from preface, p. viii: August, 1860.
General Note: Added t.p. and frontispiece are chromolithographed plates: illuminated by Sam. Stanesby, printed by T. Bessent.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00015697
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltqf - AAA8225
notis - ALG7198
oclc - 50336412
alephbibnum - 002226902

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Front Matter
        Front Matter 1
        Front Matter 2
        Front Matter 3
    Half Title
        Page i
        Page i-a
    Title Page
        Page ii
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
    Table of Contents
        Page vi
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Ministering women
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 16a
        Page 16b
    Florence Nightingale
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
    Mary L. Ware
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
    Miss Marsh
        Page 64
        Page 64a
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
    Mrs. Sherman
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
    Charlotte Bronte
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
    Margaret Fuller
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
    Jenny Lind
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
    Mrs. Fry
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 168a
        Page 168b
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
    Mrs. Sherwood
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 200a
        Page 200b
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
    Mrs. Hannah More
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
    Rosa Bonheur
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
    Elizabeth Blackwell
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
    Back Matter
        Page 281
        Page 282
    Back Cover
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
Full Text


The Baldwin Library
mtB nof


'. -5




1ey ibets of mFinent na en,




Woman, gentle woman, has a heart
Fraught with the sweet humanities of life;
Swayed by no selfish aim, she bears her part
In all our joys and woes; in pain and strife
Fonder and still more faithful! when the smart
,f care assails the bosom, or the knife
Of 'keen endurance' cuts us to the soul,
First to support us, foremost to console."









,bis Book


" MEN might discover principles and write treatises, and indicate
what must be done on a large scale; but the instant the work
became minute, individual, and personal-the instant it left the
open field and touched the home, the instant it required tact, and
sentiment, and delicacy-from that instant it passed into the hands
of women. That was essentially their province, in which might
be exercised all their moral powers and intellectual faculties. It
would give them their full share in the vast operations that the
world has yet to see. While the multiplication of Great Easterns,
Atlantic telegraphs, and Lord Rosse's telescopes, departments of
intellect arrogated to themselves (the male sex)-inventions to give
greater ease to the already easy' of mankind-while these added
to the wonder and activity of the inhabitants of every clime,
women would interpose to save millions from neglect, and would
labour to show us that the mint, and anise, and cummin were as
much the care of a mighty Providence as the mightiest of the
cedars of Lebanon."-Lord Shaflesbwry.










MRS. FRY 159







THE Author of the following pages has endeavoured to
present to his fair countrywomen such illustrations of
female excellence as may prove to them incentives
and encouragement to "go and do likewise." The
sketches are not creatures of the imagination merely;
they are facts drawn from actual life-showing on the
one hand what woman has done, and on the other
what woman may do. Itis certain that if the energy,
now lying dormant in myriad instances, were only
excited to vigorous action, tens of thousands of sad
and lonely beings would have their hearts cheered
and lightened by words of sympathy and works of
kindness. If the women of our highly favoured land,
who have at their command leisure and opportunity,
would only leave their homes of ease and elegance,
and visit the cottages, cellars, and garrets which mis-
fortune, improvidence, and poverty have denuded of
comfort; or in which filth, crime, and disease have
made their home; and would minister, as they know
how to minister, in brave and noble deeds; such
places would soon give promise of a cheery healthful
future, and become fragrant with the purposes of i
new life.


Doubtless there is something exceedingly repug-
nant in the gloom of the lonely home, in the oppres-
sive and fetid atmosphere which pervades the sick
chamber, in which reposes the last wreck of some
poor shrunken, care-worn mortal. These pages re-
cord, however, how the weakest have been made
strong-the timid and diffident, valiant and heroic-
for whom contagion, pestilence, and fever, had no
terrors, in their angel visits of mercy. Such minis-
tering women have happily seen many instances of
the vicious and sinful, confirmed in evil habits, for
vvhom law and force were exercised in vain, under
their faithful teaching becoming gentle and tractable
as children.
The records of a good life are thus seen to be
the most valued gifts to posterity. Accumulations of
wealth, human glory, the distinctions of pedigree, pale
before the lustre of personal service and generous wil-
linghood. One hour in an hospital, a day spent in
the cottages of the poor, even a casual word to the
thoughtless, may prove, in the order of Providence,
the source of rejoicing to all eternity. Surely the
perusal of these sketches will induce some gentle
sister to gird up her strength, and in the might of
her Master to dare somewhat for His honour and

August, 1860.



MINISTERING is woman's vocation. Be her talents
what they may-capable of sweeping the heavens, with
Mrs. Somerville; leading armies, with Joan of Are;
limning the landscape and its objects, with Rosa Bon-
heur; mastering the subtleties of political economy,
with Miss Martineau; interpreting the sublimities of
Shakespear, with Mrs. Siddons; ranging the field of
politics and literature, with Madame de Stail; or
circumnavigating the globe, with Ida Pfeiffer: yet, if
she has not sympathy-the brightest ornament, the
chief gem in her crown-she is wanting in all that
endears, that truly charms-the grace, the glory of
woman. Many authors have attempted astute defini-
tions of the mental differences of the sexes. We are
told that the intellect of woman is not equal in
capacity, or so powerful in its exercise, as that of man :
that woman cannot compare, combine, or search out


causes with the same perseverance or the same results:
that her mental constitution enables her to know
and comprehend, but not to discover; hence we are
not indebted to her for facts in astronomy, medicine,
or physics. Be this as it may-and something might
be urged in opposition-let woman in these particulars
be less endowed than man, she has, notwithstanding,
that which man has not-a quickness of perception, a
natural acumen, which enable her to penetrate a
subject with lightning velocity, and, singular to say,
with wonderful certainty and truth. In men, for
instance, religion is generally the result of reason, in
woman it has a more latent origin; men are con-
vinced that there is a Supreme Being, woman feels
that there must be one; man pictures God great and
majestic, woman paints Him full of love and pity.
We are not in a position, however, to form a true
estimate of woman by any comparison with man;
nor can we be, until they both alike receive the
same instruction. Doubtless society very properly
debars woman from many sources of information
open to man. That cannot be said to be their fault.
It is certain that, had Milton been restricted to the
curriculum of knowledge usually meted to the young
ladies of modern days, he would never have written
the "Paradise Lost."
Woman has, however, a pre-eminence over man in
many important respects: she is the spring, the
source, the fountain of politeness; love, gentleness


and pity are so much a part of her moral being, that
if she disowns them she disowns her own nature.
Her love literally knows no bounds-it overcomes
the strongest repugnances; it prompts her to fly
through scenes of death, to relieve the wounded
sufferer; to face disgust and misery, so that the
wretched may be consoled; to tear off the trappings
of luxury, to clothe the naked; and causes her
not to hesitate to bare her bosom to the winds, if,
haply, the afflicted may be preserved from the blast.
It is true that the charity of woman is not always
enlightened; but it is always gentle, tender, and
respectful. Woman is something more than a mere
almoner-she gives alms to the soul; she soothes
even more than she succours; she feeds the mind and
the heart, as well as the body. In this she best
imitates her Divine Master. He "went about doing
good;" His work was to minister to the afflicted in
body, and the sorrowing in mind; and if it is ours
ever to hear Him say Well done," it will be because
we have succoured the succourless, visited the captive
in prison, clothed the naked, and fed the hungry.
Nay, why need we wait until the end, for the smile
and approbation of the Saviour?-he that doeth His
will, has within him a spring of happiness, ever
gushing forth with life and truth, and which not only
gives promise of the life which is to come, but the
most heavenly blessings in the life which now is.
Heaven, indeed, must commence upon earth, or
B 2


for us it will commence in no other place. If we
ever attain to be angels in heaven, it will be because
we were angels on the earth. Surely we can become
God's messenger (or angel) on the earth, as well as
His messenger (or angel) in heaven. Well may
we ask ourselves how we may do God's will-what
are the messages we should carry-and to whom
should they be carried ? It will be well with us if
we learn to do God's will, by caring for the still small
voice which prompts to the abnegation of self-which
says: Think more of the ease, the comfort, the well-
being of thy suffering brother, thy outcast sister,
than of thyself-of thy own ease, thy own comfort,
thy own pleasure; and then, by the Divine law which
increases the estate which is distributed, which puts
into the meal-tub more than is taken out, and which
makes the cruse continue to flow, the soul minister-
ing to others shall be ministered unto-he that gives
it shall be given to him again.

Mercy is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes."

The messages which we should carry to the weary,
sorrowful, and.afflicted, are words of hope and words
of peace. Our hands should be full of practical
blessings. The mere admonitory word falls heavy
upon the ear of the weary and the hungered. The
prodigal son was received with no upbraidings, save
the upbraidings of conscience. He was first fed and


clothed, then his sad story heard. If we truly desire
to be God's messengers we should fold the repentant,
the erring, in arms of tenderness; our substance will
minister to his wants, our clothing cover his naked-
ness; then would our hearts, vocal with joy, sing of the
Prodigal "that was dead, but is alive again; was lost,
and is found." The poor, the dejected, the suffering,
the lost, would be comforted; the words of consola-
tion, the voice of hope, would fall upon their grateful
hearts as the gentle dew upon the arid soil. The
worn-out seamstress would relax her continuous
stitchings, to learn that there was a heart which
sympathised in her weary lot; the passionate would
still their temper, to learn of Him who was reviled
but who reviled not again; the thief might well stay
him in his career, on learning that he was stealing
far more from himself than he could possibly steal
from another; and he that lived upon fraud, in the
constant practice of wrong, would surely pause when
told that Christianity taught men to do to others as
they would have others do to them.
It is true that efforts would have to be made, at
times, with diminished hopes. Failure might follow
upon failure, and none could with certainty predicate
the time when success would crown the effort; but
of success, ultimately, all might be assured. In the
meantime, the soul must be possessed in patience.
The husbandman contents himself in the performance
of his labour, towards the consummation of his


wishes-a crowning harvest; he ploughs the field
and scatters the seed with no unwilling hand, in
perfect trust that the gentle showers will descend,
that the sun's rays will penetrate the soil, and that
in due season the fruit of his labour will appear.
And must not that gentle sister, who goes forth to
minister to the ills of humanity, also work in faith ?
Nay, what other hope or source of trust can she have ?
what other ground of confidence does she need? Is
she not the messenger of that Master who says,
" My word shall not return to me void;" who has
promised that the bread thrown upon the waters
shall be seen after many days ? The rocks and hills
may dissolve, the sun and moon mingle in chaos, but
no jot or tittle of God's word will ever fail!
It is not within our province to do more than
indicate generally the openings for usefulness; the
special medium is dictated by circumstances, by
education, by the natural bias or inclination of every
woman. Mrs. Hemans, L. E. L., Joanna Baillie, in
Poetry, touched a chord which will vibrate with
human sympathies to remotest time; Mrs. Catherine
Macauley found, in the dry details of History, an out-
let for her genius; Madame du Chhtelet introduced
the discoveries of Newton into France, and Mrs.
Somerville the discoveries of Laplace into England;
Hannah More taught morals to Europe and the
world; while Grace Darling, by one act of womanly
sympathy, earned for herself undying fame. But


talents and opportunities of so distinguished a kind
are rare indeed, and great the responsibility of those
who possess them. To the majority, however, there
must be comparatively few opportunities for public
usefulness. A less wide field must suffice them, than
is presented to the missionary who visits distant lands,
or the philanthropist who becomes the benefactor of
a kingdom, and whose fame fills the world. While
this is conceded, it must also be admitted that to none
is debarred the opportunity of doing good, the results
of which shall be felt through all time, and which
shall continue throughout eternity. What woman,
for instance, may not minister as an affectionate
daughter, a loving sister, a thoughtful wife, a tender
mother, a wise companion, and a judicious neigh-
bour? Opportunities these, not debarred from the
humblest, and which may well call into action talents
and sympathies of the most elevated character; and
which, if not conscientiously embraced, will dim the
lustre of a name of otherwise enduring celebrity.
The cultivated mind finds in circumstances the most
adverse, in conditions the most unsocial, when coming
in contact with mediocrity, the widest field for the
exercise of ministering ability. That which every
woman should desire is, not an extended sphere of
usefulness, which would bring with it extended respon-
sibility, but the faithfulness to perform well the
part in which her lot has been cast, so that she may
earn an award in the "well done of the Eternal-


an acknowledgment withheld, it may be, from the
conquerors of kingdoms and the spoliators of cities.
There is a trite but apposite moral in the anecdote
told of James I., on having presented to him a girl
who was represented as an English prodigy because
she was deeply learned. The person who introduced
her boasted of her proficiency in ancient languages.
" I can assure your majesty," said he, that she can
both speak and write Latin, Greek, and Hebrew."
"These are rare attainments for a damsel," said
James; but pray, tell me, can she spin ?"
Valuable as mental attainments are, they do not,
with rare exceptions, compensate for the absence of
home 'virtues. What acquirements, for instance,
would be accepted as an equivalent for the love of a
daughter-one whose head was cultured, but whose
heart was a barren waste? Those only who have had
the painful opportunity to witness the sad sight of a
daughter despising the duties prompted by affection
and relationship, can at all estimate the misery and
wretchedness of which she is the source. Better, infi-
nitely better, that such a one should have died in in-
fancy,than live to have her feelings blunted, hernatural
affections warped, so that she should forget, in the
pursuit of any object, in the round of any pleasure,
the natural guardians of her life, who have ever
exercised towards her affectionate and loving care,
and who have spent nights and days in tender solici-
tude for her welfare. It is true she may excite


wonder and astonishment by the achievements of her
genius; she may command the respect of the eminent
in various walks of science; but she denies and is
denied the love and affection which make home
happy, which light up the eye and fill the hearts of
all whenever she appears. How few remember that
sweetness of manner and kindly forbearance are
worth infinitely more for home than heroic deeds ?
However, a daughter without the affectional emotions,
in the true sense, is not a daughter at all. That is
only a wretched compromise when duties are per-
formed unwillingly-without heart; it is the virtue
of a paid menial. That daughter, on the other hand,
who seeks truly to discharge the duties of her posi-
tion, has a sphere of usefulness bounded only by life.
Those duties are the willing and cheerful service of
hand and heart, performed in the right spirit; then
will the declining years of both parents be soothed
and made joyous in the assurance and earnest hope
of her well-doing in this present life, and of her ulti-
mate attainment of eternal felicity in the life to
But if woman, in the position we have indicated,
has opportunities for usefulness, how are those oppor-
tunities increased when she becomes a wife? The
course of her life is completely changed. A few hours
only have passed since she held by the hand a fondly
loved parent, looking to him for advice and assistance
in every emergency; now she walks by the side of one,


dearer to her than brother, and who must be for her,
in the future, more than father. In her new capacity
who can measure or estimate her influence? Her
words and actions, nay, her very look, will leave its
impress upon her husband. The tone and sentiment
of her life will become so incorporated with his
thoughts and feelings, as materially to influence his
public as well as private acts.
" And judging from what I've felt, whene'er I see a face
Smile lighted on the path of life, I'm certain I can trace
The root whence that sweet influence can only truly come,
The inward joy that fills the soul when we are 'loved at
The most ascetic or independent characters are not
invulnerable to woman's influence. A few words
spoken by her at the commencement of the day,
often set the seal to that day's happiness or misery.
Cheering words, uttered by a thoughtful woman,
energize the timid and irresolute man. The wife that
meets her husband with, "How cross you are to-
day !" or "How unreasonable you are!" has taken
the most effectual method of making him so. The
man that returns home after having had his temper
ruffled with the petty annoyances incidental to busi-
ness, had need to be received with a smiling, and not
a sour, ill-tempered face;-
"Love's beverage is all-omnipotent,
Kindness and love will elevate the man;
Or if it fail, the effort must be blest
To her who makes it, still."


Aime-Martin says: "Woman disposes of the life
and honour of a man, guided by his passions; she
wishes, and her wishes are fulfilled; she wills and is
directly obeyed. Her childish will may give a hero
to her country, or an assassin to the family, according
to the loftiness of her soul; or the blindness of her
passion. 0 woman, you reign, and man is subject to
your dominion! you reign over your sons, your
lovers, your husbands In vain do they call them-
selves your masters, they become men only when you
have rendered their existence complete: in vain do
they boast of their superiority; their glory, and their
shame, are alike derived from you. This is every-
where perceptible in history as in fable; in the
palace of Circe, where the warriors were changed into
hogs, and in the palace of the Medicis, where men
became as wild beasts." Lord Byron declared he
could not undertake a certain generous action, when
urged to do so, but said: "If had been here,
she would have induced me to undertake it. She is
a woman who, amidst all temptations, has always
excited a man to glorious and virtuous actions-she
would have been my guardian angel!" Fenelon
said, in speaking of the influence of woman, "that
good is impossible without them; that they either
ruin or elevate families; that they regulate all the
details of domestic affairs, and, consequently, they
decide upon all which most nearly concerns the whole
human race."


But it is in the maternal relation chiefly, that
woman exercises the greatest influence upon society.
In that character her authority is supreme; her as-
cendancy is felt by her offspring to the third and
fourth generation. The child is incited by the mother
to good deeds, or deeds of evil. The first voice that
strikes upon its ear is the mother's; her songs its
first music; her endearments its first and longest
treasured pleasures. It is notable that all great
men, with few exceptions, have had good mothers.
Kant said: "I shall never forget that it was my
mother who caused to fructify the good which is in
my soul." His mother, though she was herself with-
out education, instructed him in the greatest of all
sciences-morality and virtue. In her walks with
her son, she explained to him, by the aid of good
sense alone, what she knew of the wonders of nature,
thus inspiring him with the love of God. Cuvier,
also, attributed to his mother all the pleasures of his
studies and the glory of his discoveries. The good
or evil influence of mothers upon their children is
strikingly exemplified in the lives of the two great
poets-Byron and Lamartine. The mother of the
former was foolish, full of caprice and pride, of vanity
and hatred; she pitilessly made a jest of the infirmity
of her son: at one time caressing him, and then des-
pising and cursing him. The mother of Lamartine
was tender without weakness, pious without formality;
she shed over her son all the light of love-implant-


ing in his nature the seeds of every virtue. Cowper
thus writes of his mother:-
"Thy nightly visits to my chamber made,
That thou might'st know me safe and warmly laid;
Thy morning bounties ere I left my home,
The biscuit or confectionary plum;
The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd
By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glow'd:
All this, and more endearing still than all,
Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,
Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks,
That humour interposed too often makes;
All this still legible in memory's page,
And still to be so to my latest age,
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay
Such honours to thee as my numbers may -
Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere,
Not scorn'd in heaven, though little noticed here."
These are the opportunities of every woman, with
rare exceptions, how obscure soever her position may
be. Let every woman resolve to do what she can,
and the opportunity to minister," in kind words and
loving deeds, will be presented in the circle in which
she moves, and in the home in which she dwells.
Not only do good mothers make good men, but they
make that sacred and revered place-home. With-
out woman's kindly smile and anxious solicitude, her
cheerfulness in health, and sympathy in illness-what
were home? A place in which to eat and sleep, but
not, in the true sense, to enjoy life, or live. It
would be the ring without its diamond, the solar system
without its sun. But for home, to be truly home,


woman must be something more than a mere labourer.
She must be a companion. To some extent she must
acquire an interest in the things which interest men;
there is surely no object that concerns them that does
not also concern her. Much of a wife's happiness
depends upon her cultivation of the conversational
faculty. If she has the power as well as the tact to
interest her husband, her company will not be ne-
glected for those better informed. It is by no means
necessary that a woman should be a politician, to
comprehend the nature of the public institutions, the
powers and privileges of government, or the nature
of the various law courts; nor is it needful that a
woman should be a theologian before she understands
the differences existing in the various sects of the
Christian Church; nor an M.D. before she acquires
a knowledge of disease, some of the means for its
cure, as well as an acquaintance with the laws which
regulate life, and are the precursors of death; nor is
it needful either that she should be an historian
before she knows something of the past history of her
own and other countries, of the habits, manners, and
customs of the inhabitants. Knowledge of this de-
scription, attained with little study and application,
would render the company of many a woman posi-
tively fascinating to her husband and her friends. It
may be that, in the meantime, she has become dis-
pirited because she fails to interest to the extent
which she did prior to marriage. Her husband loves


her none the less truthfully, but he does not care to
wile away his evenings with the pretty nothings"
that were so agreeable during the season of courtship.
Her hold upon him will be restored, by learning to
think, to examine, to observe. To a man of sense
there are really few things that delight him more than
to have an intelligent inquiring woman to converse
with. He delights in communicating, when he is
assured that that which he communicates is under-
stood. The plainest features have a beauty of their
own, when lighted up with intelligence; the prettiest
face soon palls when its owner can converse of nothing
but this or that "divine singer," the last "charming
novel," or the newest opera.
It is, therefore, in the by-ways of life that woman
can make her influence most felt. What the effect
of that influence may be, exercised by a woman true
to the high behests of her nature, eternity only can
reveal. Upon a brother a sister exercises a charm of
wondrous potency; a servant receives from her
mistress the bent and current of her thought; kindly
offices rendered to an ill-disposed neighbour will
often result in an entire change of life; a word
spoken faithfully, in season and in a good spirit, will
frequently arrest the drunkard in his course, and
cause the swearer and impious to pause and reflect
upon their folly. An encouraging word to a friend,
on the occasion of a disappointment, may afford
more real pleasure than if the disappointment had


not occurred. A sick person receives more benefit
from the inquiry of a friend or neighbour than the
medicine of the physician. A parent takes more
pains with the education of his child, when he learns
that others are interested in its progress.
In the course of the following pages examples will
be furnished of ministering women in various arduous
walks of life. They are not given as examples of
what woman may do, because they are works women
have done; this would be to suppose that the cir-
cumstances surrounding every woman are alike, and
that no woman has her own sphere of action con-
stituting the peculiarity of her station and position,
and which demands its own thought and action. If
the recorded life of any good and true woman serves
as an example, it will nerve to determination all who
read, when the opportunity is presented to go and
do likewise; and, in the meantime, to fill every
"golden hour" with its discharged duty. And if no
great opportunity is ever presented, such as were
embraced by Miss Nightingale, Miss Marsh, or Mrs.
Fry, can that sister's reward be less, when it is said
of her, She did what she could!"


SELFISHNESS is the besetting sin of the age. It
would seem as if an increase in the means of animal
enjoyment produced a feeling of inertia-a listless-
ness to all high and holy motives, or any exertion
that entails bodily pain. The love of life has super-
seded the idea that there are things more valuable
than life itself. Hence the paucity of that fine lofty
indifference to physical enjoyment, which seeks its
pleasure in the pleasure of others, and which prefers
inward satisfaction to outward show and the world's
glare. In the very foremost rank, however, of that
band, which, let us hope, is.daily increasing, dedicated
to the service of suffering, stands the name of Flo-
rence Nightingale. She is the youngest daughter of
Mr. William Shore Nightingale, of Embley Park,
Hampshire, and Lea Hurst, Derbyshire; she was
born in or about the year 1819-it is said in the city
of Florence, from whence she derives her Chris-
tian name. Her attainments are of a very high
order. She has a knowledge of the ancient lan-


guages, of the higher branches of mathematics, and
a very enlarged acquaintance with art, science, and
literature. Her knowledge of French, German,eand
Italian is as great as that of her mother tongue.
She has not been satisfied with learning names merely,
but has travelled extensively and seen things. She
has a personal knowledge of the various European
nations, and has ascended the Nile to its furthest
cataract. While she was in Egypt her sympathies
were called into activity in ministering to the sick
Arabs, and affording them information and advice
which it was happily in her power to afford.
At home Miss Nightingale is the centre of a large
intellectual circle: she numbers among her friends
members of almost every religious denomination.
Mentally gifted, carefully cultured, rich, graceful,
and popular-well may she be happiest of the happy,
in rendering to her parents a cheerful and loving
obedience. Can the imagination rest upon a fairer
or a more desirable scene-promising, as it does, the
richest blessings desired by any human heart ? Yet
she hesitated not to quit her home, with all its delight-
ful associations, its friendships, its opportunities for
refined literary culture, its filial and domestic duties,
at the call of sickness, disease, and distress! Whence
came this longing to soothe the pains of the sick and
to tend the wretched ? Early did she serve in her
ministering and self-imposed task. While a mere
girl, at the call of sickness she would fly to the bed-


sides of the cottagers in and around Lea Hurst and
Embley. Thus early did the schools and the poor
male her acquaintance as a visitor and teacher. But
soon she extended her sphere of action-she sought
the schools, hospitals, and reformatories of London,
Edinburgh, and the continent. During the Exhibi-
tion of 1851, Miss Nightingale was within the walls
of a German hospital. She also spent some months
in daily and nightly attendance on the sick at the
Lutheran hospital at Kaiserw6rth, on the Rhine.
Pasteur Flidner, the head of the establishment,
asserted, that since he had been director of the
institution, no one had passed so distinguished an
examination in all the duties of a nurse as Miss
N ightingale.
On her return to her happy home she enjoyed for
a brief season only its fond endearments. On learn-
ing that the hospital in London, established for sici
governesses, was likely to fail for want of proper
management, she consented to assume the duties,
and to exchange the splendid prospects of Derbyshire,
and the health-inspiring fields of Hampshire, for the
narrow and dreary establishment in Harley Street.
The companionship of gifted friends, fashionable
assemblies, music parties, art exhibitions, and all
that is elegant and refined, were freely relinquished
that she might soothe the last hour of some poor
homeless and friendless governess. When the duty
was once undertaken it was vigorously performed.


Seldom was she outside the walls of the institution.
Those who visited her always found her in the midst
of nurses, letters, prescriptions, and accounts. *As
might have been expected, her health failed under the
accumulated duties; but-to her a priceless satisfac-
tion-the institution was saved.
While she was in Hampshire, wooing back the
health which she had cheerfully sacrificed, there came
the disastrous accounts of the sufferings in the East,
of the rigours that the soldiery were enduring from
want of effectual hospital treatment, and from the
want of stores and proper necessaries. An appeal
in the newspapers obtained a fund, in a fortnight, of
15,000. The proprietors of the Times newspaper,
who had the administration of the fund, sent out
Mr. Macdonald with ample supplies of shirts, sheets,
stockings, flannels, coats, and hospital utensils, besides
large quantities of arrowroot, sago, sugar, tea, soap,
wine and brandy. But one of the chief wants ex-
perienced by the wounded soldiers was felt to be the
want of good nursing. A company of good nurses,
thoroughly competent to undertake the duties, was
the first necessity. To undertake the direction of a
band of nurses was now the duty of Miss Nightingale.
At the request of the Right Hon. Sydney Herbert,
Miss Nightingale at once accepted the proposal that
she should undertake to form and control the
entire nursing establishment for the British sick and
wounded soldiers and sailors in the Crimea. It is


asserted that, by a singular coincidence, she had
written on the same day, offering her services for the
onerous labour. Indeed, the duty, to any common
mind, must have seemed truly formidable; it could
only be undertaken at the risk of life, at the cost of
separation from friends, the certainty of encountering
hardships, dangers, and almost incredible toils, and
the horrors of war in their worst forms. None of
these things caused Miss Nightingale to waver in her
determination to undertake the task. That which she
undertook voluntarily she maintained with firmness.
The same resolute spirit which enabled her to obtain
the needed ability and experience, sustained her
through an accumulation of prolonged horrors, to a
triumphant issue.
Miss Nightingale, accompanied by the Rev. Mr.
Bracebridge, his wife, and thirty-seven nurses, em-
barked for the scene of her labours. The most con-
siderate attention was shown her and her companions
on their journey through France-payment being
refused by the hotel keepers and their servants for
their accommodation. Such was the sympathy ma-
nifested in their mission of mercy. One of the Paris
journals observed of her, when in that city, that her
toilet was charming; and she was almost as graceful
as a Parisienne." This, of course, was intended as a
very high compliment. Miss Nightingale and her
companions, after a stormy passage from Marseilles,
arrived at Scutari on the 5th of November, imme-


diately before the action at Balaklava. She and her
attendants had assigned to them five rooms, which
had been set apart for wounded officers, and imme-
diately entered upon their duties. The confusion of
the vast hospital, under her direction was soon
reduced to order. Such were the admirable arrange-
ments, that a groan could scarcely escape from one of
the poor fellows, without a nurse being at hand to
soothe him by gentle words, and to render his couch
more easy. Many a hardy soldier confessed with
tears in his eyes, that England did indeed care for
his sufferings, when ladies would cheerfully leave the
comforts and elegances of their quiet home, to
minister to his sufferings. Some fear had been
entertained by the officials that the innovation upon
the medical hospital staff would not work well: it
was soon seen that neither Miss Nightingale or any
of her nurses were ever found in the way, except to
do good." The soldiers, onf being carried wounded
from the field, always found female hands ready to
assist in dressing their wounds; and when it happened,
as it did happen, that medical stores ran short, the
" Times' Commissioner" was at hand to obtain what
was needed, if to be found in the bazaars of Constan-
tinople. The Commissioner bore convincing testi-
mony, in his letters to England, of the difficulties
Miss Nightingale had to contend with-what is called
" Red-tapeism not being the least. There was first
the rule of the service, that all stores immediately


required should be obtained from the Commissariat
at home; then a board" must sit upon the stores
already landed before they could be used. But the
evils of the system will be best illustrated by extract-
ing a passage from a letter of one of the nurses:-
"I know not what sight is most heartrending to
witness-fine-looking, strong young men worn down
by exhaustion, and sinking under it, or others coming
in fearfully wounded. The whole of yesterday was
spent in sewing men's mattresses together; then in
washing, and assisting the surgeons to dress their
wounds, and seeing the poor fellows made as comfort-
able as their circumstances would admit after five days'
confinement on board ship, during which their wounds
were not dressed. Out of the four wards committed
to my charge, eleven men died in the night, simply
from exhaustion; which, humanly speaking, might
have been stopped, could I have laid my hands upon
such nourishment as I know they ought to have had."
But bad as the state of things was in regard to
medicine and medical attendance, it was not worse
than the arrangements in regard to hospital clothing.
Had it not been for supplies obtained by Miss
Nightingale, at the charge of the fund, a large pro-
portion of the invalids must have been without under-
clothing, and been condemned to wear the filthy rags
they had brought from the Crimea. Not only the
shirts of the men, but their beds, were in a state of
filth almost beyond description. The first thing to


be done, and which was done, was to engage a house
near the hospital, which was well supplied with water,
in order that the clothes of the poor invalids might
be cleansed and washed. Now it was that her pre-
vious training was of use; instantly she saw what
ought to be done under every emergency, and that
which she saw ought to be done, her energy effected.
But medicine and clean clothes, essential as they
were for the restoration of the sick, were only part of
the requirements. Food, of a light pleasant kind,
such as patients could relish, was equally needed.
The ordinary mess, composed of an entire company's
meat and vegetables, all boiled in one copper, was
quite unfit for the sickly appetite of the fevered
patient. To remedy this, Miss Nightingale and her
assistants, within ten days of their arrival, fitted up
a temporary kitchen, from which eight hundred men
were daily supplied with well-cooked food and beef-
tea. When the nurses could be spared from the bed-
sides of the sick, they were employed in making
articles of bedding, and things required in surgical
cases. Miss Nightingale seemed to have an eye for
everything, and an eye everywhere. The laundry was
soon got into excellent working order. The various
wards were cleansed, purified, and made habitable.
For a considerable period after her arrival she was
the real purveyor of the hospitals. Had she not
done so, many a poor fellow must have died. She
made the hospital so comfortable, that it was no


wonder that the convalescents were by no means
anxious to leave. This is the more wonderful when
we learn from Mr. Macdonald what was the state of
the hospitals. He says: Wounds almost refuse to
heal in this atmosphere; the heavy smell of pestilence
can be perceived outside the very walls." In one of
the last letters he wrote, before he was compelled,
through failing health, to return to England, he bore
testimony in earnest words to Miss Nightingale's
excellence: "Wherever there is disease in its most
dangerous form, and the hand of the spoiler distress-
ingly nigh, there is that incomparable woman sure
to be seen; her benignant presence is an influence for
good comfort, even amid the struggles of expiring
nature. She is a ministering angel,' without any
exaggeration, in these hospitals: and as her slender
form glides quietly along each corridor, every poor
fellow's face softens with gratitude at the sight of
her. When all the medical officers have retired for
the night, and silence and darkness have settled down
upon those miles of prostrate sick, she may be
observed alone, with a little lamp in her hand,
making her solitary rounds. The popular instinct
was not mistaken which, when she set out from
England on her mission of mercy, hailed her as a
heroine ; I trust that she may not earn her title to a
higher though sadder appellation. No one who has
observed her fragile figure and delicate health, can
avoid misgivings lest these should fail. With the


heart of a true woman, and the manners of a lady,
accomplished and refined beyond most of her sex,
she combines a surprising calmness of judgment and
promptitude and decision of character. I confidently
assert, that, but for Miss Nightingale, the people of
England would scarcely, with all their solicitude,
have been spared the additional pang of knowing,
which they must have done, sooner or later, that their
soldiers, even in hospital, had found scanty refuge
and relief from the unparalleled miseries with which
this war has hitherto been attended."
Sad as were the circumstances to which we have
already alluded, they were not all that Miss Night-
ingale had to contend with: she had to meet the
prejudices of those who only believed in routine and
rule, however absurd or ill advised. The "red-
tapeists" of the hospitals looked upon the practice of
the nurses as assumption and an interference. This
feeling was the precursor of a silent passive opposition
to their instalment a state of things exceedingly
annoying, it must be confessed, against which
nothing but considerable tact could have made head.
At first the medical officers endeavoured to dispense
with the nurses' services; but the increasing emer-
gency soon put all to rights in this matter, and
enabled Miss Nightingale to bring her plans to bear
upon all the hospitals, much to the advantage of their
wretched inmates.
While she was contending with these difficulties in


Scutari -manifesting her belief in the truths of
Christianity by her sublime spectacle of self-dedica-
tion, and literally realizing the true test of Chris-
tianity: "I was sick, and ye visited me" some
narrow-minded, and, shall we say, weak persons, were
spreading, at home, reports to her prejudice on the
subject of her creed. The Hon. Mrs. Sydney Her-
bert actually wrote a defence of Miss Nightingale 1
We blush while we write the words. A defence of
what? -Of a high-minded, spotless lady, who had
left the charms of her home to risk the contagion of
a military hospital during the continuance of a severe
and protracted war, that she might minister in
material comforts to the wants of the fevered and
mangled soldiery! Persons who could attack a
character so singularly exemplary, by imputation or
otherwise, should have been treated, as they deserved,
with silent contempt. Mrs. Herbert thought other-
wise, and so wrote the following letter:-

49, Belgrave Square, Dec. 9, 1854.
"Madam,-By this post I send you a Christian
Times of Friday week last, by which you will see how
cruel and unjust are the reports you mentioned about
Miss Nightingale and her noble work. Since then,
we have sent forty-seven nurses, of which I inclose
you a list. It is melancholy to think that in Christian
England no one can undertake anything without the
most uncharitable and sectarian attacks; and, had


you not told me so, I should scarcely have believed
that a clergyman of the Established Church would
have been the mouthpiece of slander. Miss Night-
ingale is a member of the Established Church of
England, and what is called rather Low Church. But
ever since she went to Scutari, her religious opinions
and character have been assailed on all points. One
person writes to upbraid us for having sent her,
' understanding she is a Unitarian;' another, that
she is a Roman Catholic,' and so on. It is a cruel
return to make towards one to whom England owes
so much. As to the charge of no Protestant nurses
being sent, the subjoined list will convince you of its
fallacy. We make no distinction of creed; and any
one who was a good and skilful nurse, and understood
the practice in surgical wards, was accepted, provided,
of course, that we had their friends' consent, and that
in other respects, as far as we could judge, they were
of unexceptional character. A large portion of the
wounded being Roman Catholics, we accepted the
services of some of the Sisters of Charity from St.
Stephen's Hospital, Dublin. I have now told you all,
and feel sure that you will do your utmost to set
these facts plainly before those whose minds have
been disquieted by these false and unjust accusa-
tions. I should have thought that the names of Mr.
and Mrs. Bracebridge, who accompanied and are
remaining with Miss Nightingale, would have been
sufficient guarantees of the evangelical nature of the


work. But it seems nothing can stop the stream of
sectarian bitterness.
"I remain, Madam, yours faithfully,

On the occasion of Mr. Sydney Herbert delivering
a speech at Oxford, he remarked on the same subject:
"I recollect an excellent answer being given to a
query of this kind by an Irish clergyman, who, when
he was asked to what sect Miss Nightingale belonged,
replied, She belongs to a sect which unfortunately is
a very rare one-the sect of the Good Samaritans.'"
In the interesting work, Scutari and its Hos-
pitals," the author, the Hon. and Rev. Sydney
Godolphin Osborne, writes: I have heard and read
with indignation, the remarks hazarded upon her
religious character. I found her myself to be in
every word and action a Christian; I thought this
quite enough. It would have been, in my opinion,
the most cruel impertinence to scrutinise her words
and acts, to discover to which of the many bodies
of true Christians she belonged. I have conversed
with her several times on the deaths of those who I
had visited ministerially in the hospitals, with whom
she had been when they died. I never heard one word
from her lips that would not have been just what I
should have expected from the lips of those who I
have known to be the most experienced and devout of
our common faith. Her work ought to answer for


her faith; at least, none should dare to call that faith
in question, in opposition to such work, on grounds
so weak and trivial as those I have seen urged. That
she has been equally kind and attentive to men of
every creed; that she would smooth the pillow and
give water to a dying fellow-creature who might own
no creed, I have no doubt; all honour to her that she
does feel that hers is the Samaritan's-not the
Pharisee's work. If there is blame in looking for a
Roman Catholic priest to attend a dying Romanist,
let me share it with her-I did it again and again."
Mr. Osborne, in the same work, gives his impres-
sion of Miss Nightingale. He says:-" She is in
appearance just what you would expect in any other
well-bred woman, who may have seen, perhaps, rather
more than thirty years of life: her manner and
countenance are prepossessing, and this without the
possession of positive beauty: it is a face not easily
forgotten, pleasing in its smile, with an eye betoken-
ing great self-possession, and giving, when she wishes,
a quiet look of firm determination to every feature.
Her general demeanour is quiet, and rather reserved :
still, I am much mistaken if she is not gifted with a
lively sense of the ridiculous. In conversation she
speaks on matters of business with a grave earnestness,
one would not expect from her appearance. She has
evidently been disciplined to restrain, under the
principles of the action of the moment, every feeling
which would interfere with it. She has trained her-


self to command, and learned the value of conciliation
towards others, and constraint over herself. I can
conceive her to be a strict disciplinarian; she throws
herself into a work, as its head; as such, she knows
well how much success must depend upon literal
obedience to her every order. She seems to under-
stand business thoroughly. Her nerve is wonderful:
I have been with her at very severe operations; she
was more than equal to the trial. She has an utter
disregard of contagion. I have known her spend
hours over men dying of cholera or fever. The more
awful to every sense any particular case, especially if
it was that of a dying man, her slight form would be
seen bending over him, administering to his ease every
way in her power, and seldom quitting his side till
death released him."
Mr. Sydney Herbert at a public meeting related
some exquisite touches of nature, showing the deep
sympathy existing between Miss Nightingale and the
soldiers. He read from a letter :-" I have just
heard such a pretty account from a soldier, describing
the comfort it was, even to see Florence pass. 'She
would speak to one and another, and nod and smile
to a many more; but she could not do it to all, you
know; we lay there in hundreds; but we could kiss
her shadow as it fell, and lay our heads on the pillow
again, content.' What poetry there is in these men !
I think I told you of another who said, 'Before she
came, there was such cussin' and swearin'; and after


that, it was as holy as a church." Those rough
exteriors were the coverings of soft hearts and gentle
natures. Away from the solacement of kindred,
how sweetly would the cheering word fall upon the
ear! That "nod and smile" would do the sad worn-
down patients more good than medicine, food, and
clothing all put together. And when, as it sometimes
occurred, that in the frenzy of pain a soldier refused
to submit to a needful operation, "a few calm sen-
tences of hers seemed at once to allay the storm;
and the man would submit willingly to the painful
ordeal he had to undergo." That is a secret which
women only possess. It is not attainable by any
amount of mere training-it is woman's birthright,
it is the charm by which the roughest natures are
subdued-wills, stern and stubborn enough to resist
to the death man's persuasion or compulsion, but
which melt like the gentle dew before woman's kind
but firm words. In sympathy and self-possession
must we trace the secret of Florence Nightingale's
success. The "touch of nature" bound her to the
hearts of the Crimean soldiers, as it binds her to the
hearts of every human being, claiming her as "more
than sister."
But cheerfully as she performed her self-imposed
duties, which would have worn out nerves of iron,
no wonder that her fragile form had to succumb;
and when Lord Ward placed his yacht at her service,
in order that she might enjoy the sea breeze and be


away ever sq briefly from the fetid smells of the
hospital, she had to be carried in the arms of the
men for whom she had risked so much. Still she
would not listen to proposals to return to England,
until the war was over. It was this noble and
generous devotion-this sacrifice of comfort, of friend-
ships, of health, and, as it seemed, almost of life it-
self, that lit up into a flame the Nation's admiration,
and which would not subside until it had bestowed
some token upon the woman who had placed one
more figure in the niche of fame. A testimonial, the
Englishman's usual resort, was at once decided upon.
But of what should it consist ? Miss Nightingale
was rich; a money testimonial, therefore, would be
useless; anything to adorn her home or her person,
to one who delighted in the simple and the unosten-
tatious, would possess little value. Any personal
donation would be viewed as payment for that which
was rendered as a sacred duty, and therefore, not
to be computed by any money standard. Miss Night-
ingale, moreover, positively declined to receive any-
thing for herself. It was therefore resolved to raise
a fund for benevolent purposes, leaving its appro-
priation to the judgment and loving heart of the
heroine of Scutari. Then it was that public meet-
ings were held, presided over and attended by royal
personages, by peers, the highest dignitaries of the
land, and by the most eminent persons of the pro-
fessions. The Nightingale Fund," in a spirit of the


utmost unanimity, was discussed by .every broad-
sheet, and by every knot of men wherever congre-
gated. It was finally decided that a fund to enable
her to establish an institution for the training, suste-
nance, and protection of nurses and hospital attend-
ants," would be the best form in which the national
feeling could expand itself. On receiving a copy of
the proceedings, Miss Nightingale addressed a letter
to her friend, Mrs. Herbert.

"Scutari Barrack Hospital, Jan. 6th, 1856.
"Dear Mrs. Herbert,-In answer to your letter
(which followed me to the Crimea and back to
Scutari), proposing to me the undertaking of a
Training School for Nurses, I will first beg to say
that it is impossible for me to express what I felt in
regard to the sympathy and the confidence shown to
me by the originators and supporters of the scheme.
Exposed as I am to be misinterpreted and misunder-
stood, in a field of action in which the work is new,
complicated, and distant from many who sit in judg-
ment upon it, it is, indeed, an abiding support to
have such sympathy, and such appreciation, brought
home to me in the midst of labour and difficulties
all but overpowering. I must add, however, that my
present work is such as I would never desert for any
other, so long as I see room to believe that what I
may do here is unfinished. May I, then, beg you to
express to the Committee that I accept their proposal,


provided I may do so on the understanding of this
great uncertainty, as to when it will be possible to
me to carry it out.
"Believe me to be
"Yours very truly,

Of course, it cannot but be seen that this Fund,"
in its ultimate objects, will demand from Miss Night-
ingale more deprivation, more labour; but, as Mr.
Herbert observed:-" Miss Nightingale looks to her
reward from this country, in having a fresh field for
her labours, and means of extending the good that she
has already begun. A compliment cannot be paid
dearer to her heart than in giving her more work to
do." While the English nation was thus endeavour-
ing to show its gratitude "to the one individual,"
as Mr. Osborne said, who, in this whole unhappy
war, has shown, more than any other, what real
energy, guided by good sense, can do to meet the
calls of sudden emergency," the Sultan, taking the
Eastern mode of manifesting his appreciation of Miss
Nightingale's services, presented her with a magnifi-
cent bracelet set in brilliant, "as a mark of his
estimation of the devotion evinced by this lady in the
British hospitals." Queen Victoria, also, wrote:--
" I wish Miss Nightingale and the ladies would tell
these poor, noble, wounded, and sick men that no
one takes a warmer interest, or feels more for their


sufferings, or admires their courage and heroism more
than their Queen: day and night she thinks of her
beloved troops." With this note the Queen sent a
jewel of a very costly description, but much more
valued by the receiver from its emblematic signifi-
cance. The jewel is in the form of a St. George's
cross, in ruby-red enamel on a white field, represent-
ing England. This is encircled by a black band,
typifying the office of charity, on which is inscribed
a golden legend, "Blessed are the merciful." The
letters V. R." surmounted by a crown of diamonds,
are impressed upon the centre of the St. George's
cross, from which spread rays of gold. There is an
inscription at the back of the jewel, written by her
Majesty, recording it as a gift in memory of services
rendered to the army by Miss Nightingale.
While all were thus delighting to honour her, she
was still busy in her labour of love; not only sooth-
ing the last moments of the poor fellows who sank
under their wounds, but ministering in all gentleness
to bereaved mothers, sisters, and wives-the sad suf-
ferers at home. One poor woman, living in South
Shields, not having heard of her husband for some
months, wrote to Miss Nightingale, to which she
received the following reply :-

Scutari Hospital, 5th March, 1856.
"Dear Mrs. Laurence,-I was exceedingly grieved
to receive your letter; because I have only sad


mews to give in return. Alas in the terrible time
we had last year, when we lost from seventy to
eighty men per day in these hospitals alone, many
widows had to suffer like you; and your husband, I
regret to say, was among the number. He died in
this hospital, February 20, 1855, just at the time
when our mortality reached its height, of fever and
dysentery; and on that day we buried eighty men.
In order that I might be sure that there is no mis-
take in the name, I wrote up to the colonel of his
regiment, who confirms the news in the note I
enclose; and though he is mistaken in the precise
date of your husband's death, there is no mistake,
alas in the fact. I wished to get this reply before
I wrote to you. Your husband's balance due to
him was 1 2s. 41d., which was remitted home
to the Secretary at War, September 25, 1855, from
whom you can have it on application. As you
were not aware of being a widow, you are, of course,
not in receipt of any allowance as a widow. You
should, therefore, make application to Colonel Le-
froy, R.A., Hon. Secretary of the Patriotic Fund,
16A, Great George Street, Westminster, London.
I enclose the necessary papers to fill up. Your
colonel's letter will be sufficient proof of your hus-
band's death. I enclose it for the purpose. You will
state all particulars about your children. Your
minister will help you to fill it up. 1 am very sorry
for you and your trouble. Should you have any


difficulty about the Patriotic Fund, you may make
use of this letter, which will be sufficient evidence for
you to produce of your being a widow. With
sincere sympathy for your great loss,
"I remain, yours truly,

She found time, also, to attend, when opportunity
served, to the intellectual requirements of those about
her. In a letter from the camp before Sebastopol,
during the spring of 1856, we read that, "through
the exertions of Miss Nightingale, a considerable
quantity of school materials, such as maps and slates,
were supplied to the schools." Those who were
recovering were supplied by her with books and amus-
ing games; she was also foremost in devising harmless
recreation for the men. The chaplain found in her a
warm assistant in establishing a library and school-
room, and in his efforts to get up evening lectures to
instruct and amuse the men. She was also intrusted
with various little savings to send home to the
soldiers' families; she wrote letters for the sick, and
very punctually forwarded the bequests of the dying.
Her activity was something wonderful: Dr. Pincoffs
said :-
"I believe that there never was a severe case of
any kind that escaped her notice; and sometimes it
was wonderful to see her at the bedside of a patient
who had been admitted, perhaps, but an hour before,


and of whose arrival one would hardly have supposed
it possible she could already be cognizant."
When peace was declared, and her work done, the
utmost secrecy was maintained in reference to her
arrival in England; for fear this should become
known, she refused the offer of a passage in an Eng-
lish man-of-war, and embarked in a French vessel
for France, which she passed through by night; she
arrived at her own home in Derbyshire, unrecognised,
on Friday, August 15, 1856.
"Punch," appreciating the quiet of her return,
contained on the 28th of August, the following:-


Most blessed things come silently, and silently depart;
Noiseless steals spring-time on the year, and comfort on the
And still, and light, and gentle, like a dew, the rain must be,
To quicken seed in furrow, and blossom upon tree.
Nile Aas its foaming rapids, freshes from mountain snows:
But where its streams breed fruitfulness, serene and calm it
And when he over brims, to cheer his banks on either side,
You scarce can mark, so gradual, the swelling of his tide.
The wings of angels make no stir, as they ply their work of
But by the balm they shed around, we knew them that they
God spake not in the thunder, nor in the crushing blast :
Ris utterance was in "still small voice," that came at last.


So she, our sweet Saint Florence, modest, and still, and calm,
With no parade of martyr's cross, no pomp of martyr's palm,
To the place of plague and famine, foulness, and wounds, and
Went out upon her gracious toil, and so returns again.

No shouting crowds about her path, no multitude's hot breath,
To feed with wind of vanity the doubtful fires of faith:
Her path by hands official all unsmooth'd, her aims decried
By the Levites, who, when need was, pass'd on the other
When titles, pensions, orders, with random hand are shower'd,
'Tis well that, save with blessings, she still should walk un-
What title like her own sweet name, with the music all its
What order like the halo by her good deeds round her thrown P

Like her own bird-all voiceless while the daylight songsters
Sweet singer in the darkness, when all songs else are still,-
She on that night of suffering, that chill'd other hearts to stone,
Came with soft step and gentle speech, yet wise and firm of
Think of the prayers for her, that to the praying heart came
In rain of blessings, seeming still to spring upon her track:
The comfort of her graciousness to those whose road to death
Was dark and doubtful, till she showed the light of love and
Then leave her to the quiet she has chosen: she demands
No greeting from our brazen throats, and vulgar clapping
Leave her to the still comfort the saints know, that have
What are our earthly honours P Her honours are in heaven.


The Queen, whose home feelings are not eclipsed
by her regal dignities, in the true spirit of womanly
affection invited Miss Nightingale to spend some
days with her at her Highland residence, Balmoral.
We are told that both the Queen and her family
treated her, as well they might, with the most marked
distinction. If the act was prompted by the feeling
that it was a graceful recognition of eminent services,
it was well; but if it was an act, as we may well
believe, prompted by sisterly affection, called forth by
entire sympathy with the objects and labours of Miss
Nightingale, to her, at least, it was a thousand times
better. In the one case it was the smile and approval
of royalty; in the other, the loving embrace of the
entire English heart.
Publicity, in its broad or glaring sense, she in-
stinctively shrank from. Recognising the spirit and
the object of the working men of Sheffield in erect-
ing a monument to the brave men who had fallen in
the Crimea, she yet resisted, most gracefully, the
proposal that she should lay its foundation stone.
Her reply was accompanied with a check for 20
towards the object. It ran thus :-

"Lea Hurst, Matlock, Oct. 23rd, 1856.
"My dear Lydia,-The purpose mentioned to me in
your letter has my deepest sympathy. It would have
been most congenial with my feelings, on my return
from the deathbeds of so many brave men, to take
part in it. I shall be with the men of Sheffield, in


spirit, whenever they execute their proposed plan.
It is with real pain that I feel compelled to decline
the privilege which they offer to me, of laying the
first stone. But I believe I shall best honour the
cause of those brave men by abstaining from appearing
to court that publicity which I consider to have been
my greatest impediment in the work I have been
engaged in for their sakes; impeding it by arousing
in some minds care for worldly distinctions. I will
ask you to give this letter to Mr. Overend; and I
should be glad that Mr. Overend should make known
to those who had expressed a desire that I should lay
the first stone, my reasons and my sorrow for not
doing so; and I should say also that I feel an especial
regret in declining this at Sheffield, from old and
dear family recollections connected with the place.
I must apologise for so late an answer, as I have only
just returned home.
"Pray believe me, my dear Lydia,
"Very truly yours,

Her letters are specially interesting, as from them
we get an insight into her mental character-firm-
ness and resolution being chief characteristics. One
of her letters, written from Scutari, is truly ad-
mirable for its spirit and good sense. It was
written upon the occasion of accepting the original
proposal of the "Nightingale Fund." In it she


The confidence which the subscribers to this fund
have shown me has been so generous and extraordi-
nary, that it is perhaps hardly necessary for me to
allude to a very natural letter, which I am told has
been printed, to the effect that I must forward a
prospectus of what I am going to do, before I can
expect to have money subscribed to do it. I think
this perfectly reasonable, if I originally had asked for
the money, which, of course, I did not. But, to fur-
nish a cut and dried prospectus of my plans, situated
as I am here, when I cannot look forward a month,
much less a year, is what I would not if I could, and
could not if I would. I would not if I could,
because everything which succeeds is not the produc-
tion of a scheme of rules and regulations made before-
hand, but of a mind observing and adapting itself to
wants and events. I could not if I would, because it
is simply impossible to find time, in the midst of one
overpowering work, to digest and concoct another;
and if it could be done, it would be simply bad, and
to be hereafter altered or destroyed."
We learn, in this extract, the secret of Miss Night-
ingale's success-" Doing one thing at a time, and
doing it with a firm mind." The one thing she had
to do at Scutari was to minister to sick and wounded
soldiers-that was her work, not to be diverted by
the concoction of a scheme which might well occupy
months in its details. Those at home, seeking the
information, were well answered in her pertinent
reply-" Do your work, if you deem it your work, to


collect all needful monies for the contemplated ob-
ject; and at the proper time, which is not now-
quite other work being required from me, my heart
and hand shall be given to the development of the
scheme." But, in addition to time and thought, she
was ever ready to give of her means to any really
benevolent object, and this in a manner so consider-
ate, as doubly to enhance the gift. This may be well
illustrated by one incident. There is a charitable
institution in France, called the (Euvre de Notre
Dame- d'Orient," under the direction of the Abb6
Legendre. On the formation of a relief fund, to
ameliorate the condition of infirm soldiers after
being discharged from the hospital, Miss Nightingale
forwarded a donation of a hundred francs, with the
following letter to the Abb6 :-
"Sir,-I feel the warmest sympathy with you in
the touching object of your work, and I am happy
to join in it to the limited extent to which my en-
gagements allow. I received, too, from the excellent
religious ladies who were attached to the French
army in the East, so many tokens of their friendship,
-they gave me their assistance with such entire self-
denial, and lightened my hard task in the hospitals
with so much devotedness, that I shall always seek
any opportunity of showing my gratitude to France,
and to her brave children, whom I have been taught
by those ladies to love and respect.
"I am, Sir, yours truly,


We subsequently learn that she is now preparing
herself for her great work-her most abiding work,
by seeking, by personal inspection and inquiry, to
know if, by chance, any hospital at home or abroad,
has any system, which has not yet come under her
notice, which it would be well to incorporate in the
system to be practised in the forthcoming Night-
ingale Hospital." In her self-imposed task God speed
her! May she live not only to be of use to those
under her care, but to prompt to active deeds and
noble works those women-our "gentle sisters,"
blessed with property, with health, and opportunity
to do good; to show to all-the humblest as the
greatest, that in ministering in kindly acts and loving
words, not only do they bless those upon whom their
blessings fall, but that they are storing up for them-
selves in this life an abiding happiness, and in the
life to come-an Immortal Crown.
Since the foregoing was written, Miss Nightingale
has sent from the press a little work entitled "Notes
on Nursing," which has obtained a deservedly exten-
sive sale, being published at a cheap rate, so that it
might be available to those persons for whom it was
written, and containing the results of her hospital
experience in clear and simple terms. The book is
unquestionably one of the most valuable contributions
to this class of literature, and to the cause of humanity,
made during the present century.


INTENTIONS, however praiseworthy, are as nothing if
unsupported by the power necessary to carry them
into effect. When right resolves are allied with
moral stamina and force of character adequate to their
execution, the result is generally such as to command
the approval of conscience, and, it may be, the ad-
miration of mankind. In how large a degree the
capability, both to will and to do good, may co-exist
in the same person, is very strikingly exemplified in
Mary Ware. Her career affords an instructive illus-
tration of what may be accomplished, under circum-
stances of peculiar trial and difficulty, by a large-
hearted philanthropy, and the exercise of the most
unshaken faith in the goodness and sustaining power
of an all-wise Providence.
Mary Lovell Pickard, afterwards Mrs. Ware, was
born at Boston, America, the 2nd October, 1798.
Her father was originally from England. Her mother,
whose maiden name was Mary Lovell, was the daughter
of an American gentleman, who had taken a consider-


able share in public life, and finally received an official
appointment at Boston. Mrs. Pickard possessed a
clear intellect, good natural endowments, and much
generosity of nature.
Mary visited England in the company of her father
and mother in 1802. The scenes and incidents to
which she was then introduced made a lasting im-
pression on her mind; such was the intelligent interest
exhibited by her in most things falling under her
observation, as ever afterwards to excite a lively
remembrance of her by those who had once made
her acquaintance. This was the simple effect of her
genial nature and innate goodness of heart, rather
than of any extraordinary endowments or peculiar
grace, beauty, or talents-qualities which are too apt
to be associated with the popular idea of a heroine.
When five years old she returned to America with her
parents, having proved herself source of incalculable
comfort and consolation to them. In return, she was
uniformly treated by her parents with the most con-
fiding liberality, and was denied no reasonable occa-
sion or source of relaxation and enjoyment.
To her thirteenth year her education was under
the almost exclusive direction of her mother; but
after that period she was removed to a boarding-
school at Hingham, where her good qualities speedily
found appreciation by her teachers and school-fellows.
She was recalled from school by the indisposition of
her mother, to whom she had at once to minister in


the capacity of nurse, which position she assumed
not only unrepiningly, but as a privilege and a con-
solation : this was her first introduction to the trials
and sorrows that await the course of duty. Her
mother died in the May of 1812, an event entailing
upon Mary sudden and grave responsibilities, although
she had not then attained her fourteenth year. To add
to her trials, her father was also in the decline of life,
considerably broken in spirits, and deranged in his
pecuniary circumstances; while her grand-parents on
the mother's side, living with them, were necessarily
the objects of her constant solicitude and attention.
Truly, the difficulties and stern realities of life had
now fairly closed in upon Mary, demanding the
greatest exercise of fortitude and resignation.
After her mother's death she attended a school in
Boston for two years. While there, she manifested
the same combination of good feeling and sense
which had previously marked her conduct; while the
circumstances of her life seemed gradually culmi-
nating to the point of practical usefulness. There is
reason to suppose that Mary possessed a small in-
heritance from her mother's family, which had been
invested in her father's business, whose affairs, as
had been foreseen, became increasingly involved,
when in 1815 it was necessary for him to correspond
with his daughter on the subject, and to convey the,
to him, painful intelligence, that she would inevitably
lose a portion of her patrimony, in common with the


rest of his creditors. With a rare excellence of taste,
and a depth of philosophy not always found in a girl
of sixteen, Mary replied to her father, that she hoped
she was not so weak as to despair under a reverse of
fortune, or so profane as to rebel at the decrees of
Providence; that she was quite prepared to do what
in her lay to provide her own means of living, and
concluded by saying: "I can only regret the loss of
property, when it makes me an incumbrance to
my friends, and limits my power of communicating
In 1815, Mary again returned to her father's
house, to share its toils and anxieties, and to assist
in plans of now much needed economy. At this
juncture her grandfather died; her grandmother
remaining for nearly two years a confirmed invalid.
At this period Mary's attendance at the sanctuary
was uniformly constant: as a result, her religious
views acquired depth and confirmation thereby. Her
correspondence at this time evinces her regret at the
want of opportunity for greater mental improvement,
but at the same time displays her contented disposi-
tion, and her entire resignation to the will and ordi-
nation of Providence. The death of her grandmother,
in 1817, brought a trifling accession of fortune to
Mary, but it did not lessen her practice of economy,
or her disposition to assist in repairing the fortunes
of her father, to the extent of her limited means.
The bereavement referred to induced a change of resi-


dence by the family. This occasioned Mary much
regret, involving, as it did, separation from the scenes
of her childhood, fondly endeared by so many tender
recollections; but her business was now to act, not
idly repine; she made it her pleasure to respond to
the repeated calls of duty, which now took the direc-
tion of active assistance in her father's affairs. She
left Boston with her father early in 1821, for a
residence in the country-a change which appears to
have left her more leisure for the work of self-
examination and reflection. In her correspondence
with friends at this time she reviewed the incidents
and tendency of her past life. One extract will show
the strong passion with which she was possessed to
do good. There is a little deaf and dumb girl just
opposite to us, and if I knew the process I would
teach her to read. I must have something to do
which will rouse my mind to exertion." The desired
"something to do" at length devolved upon Mary
in a manner and with a force she could not have
foreseen. So far, the events of her life appear to
have been nothing but a succession of trials and dis-
appointments. The dispensations of Providence, in
her case, as in many others, were inscrutable and
past finding out. Her gentle nature had often been
rudely tested; she had been subjected to trials which,
in the estimation of the thoughtless and the worldly,
might have justified her in resigning herself to the
miseries of despair. This course, however, Mary did


not pursue. She knew there was work to be done
for the good of others in a thousand different ways-
willingly did she undertake her full share of the
burden without evasion or murmuring. Truly is it
'well with them" who can thus bow with perfect
submission to the Divine will.
What immediately follows is simply a recital of
trials and difficulties which, while they sorely tried
and almost prostrated Mary, served but to give direc-
tion and the crowning development to that disposi-
tion for good by which her past, and, as it will be
seen, her future life was pre-eminently characterized.
Towards the close of the year 1823, Mr. Pickard
died: his death was sudden; but during the progress
of his short illness he was attended by his daughter
with the most self-denying devotedness. When the
crisis came, however, the effect of the shock was such
as to render her for a time insensible. As may be
conceived, her position was now the most unenviable
-at once lonely and desolate. The only relative she
had, resided in England; while she was literally
without a home. She knew that she had an aunt,
who was aged, poor, and infirm, residing in a village
in England. With the generous impulses of her
nature, however, she was not long in deciding to visit
this aunt; and, accordingly, having made arrange-
ments for suitable companionship on the voyage, she
crossed the Atlantic, and again found herself on
English soil. The idea of a lone female, an orphan,


attempting a journey of some thousands of miles by
water, with the sole intent of ministering to the
necessities of a poor, and obscure as poor, relative,
seems chimerical enough, and perhaps could hardly
be justified by ordinary notions of prudence; but it
will by this time be understood that Mary was in the
highest and best sense of the term no ordinary being,
and the fact of her undertaking such a journey on
such a mission is demonstration at once of great force
of character, and of the strength of her yearnings
after the useful and the good.
Mary brought letters of introduction with her to
London, which gained her admission into the best
society. She visited many places and persons of in-
terest, and made a short excursion to Paris, prior to
the execution of the chief object of her journey to
Europe. In August, 1825, she at length visited her
poor old aunt, who lived at the village of Osmotherly,
Yorkshire. A shade might have been thrown upon
her spirits by the picturesque but lonely country
through which she travelled; but her aunt received
her with every demonstration of joy and gladness.
Mary described her aunt as living "in a comfortable
two-story cottage of four rooms, which far exceeds
anything I ever saw for neatness;" and then, in their
natural sequence, follow her prevailing current of
thought, and the impulses for good which lay nearest
her heart, with the causes which contributed to call
them into active exercise : "I find that I could not


have come at a better time to do good, or a worse for
gaining spirits. My aunt's two daughters are mar-
ried and live in this village; one of them, with three
children, has a husband at the point of death with a
fever; his brother died yesterday of the small-pox,
and two of her children have the whooping-cough.;
added to this, their whole dependence is upon their
own exertions, which are of course entirely stopped
now. One of the children, a year and a half old, is
with the grandmother, but so ill with the cough,
that she is almost sick with taking care of it. It has
fortunately taken a fancy to me at once, and I can
relieve her a little. But, worst of all, one of her
sons has come home in a very gloomy state of mind,
and all her efforts have failed to rouse him to exertion.
I hope to be more successful, for he seems willing to
listen to me."
Osmotherly is described as a primitive secluded
village, the people of which were almost exclusively
of the more uncouth of the labouring class. The
place, its inhabitants and associations, were by no
means congenial to Mary. Her aunt she had not
seen for twenty years previously, and as to her
cousins, they were entire strangers to her. Any
ordinary girl would have been but too ready to quit
so uninviting a sphere-one in which was mixed up
so much of suffering and repulsion, and would have
rejoiced to accept some of the many agreeable invi-
tations to congenial circles which she received.


Mary did not so decide. She was willing to sacrifice
her own convenience, and to risk even her own health,
in her efforts to minister to the afflicted family with
whom she had now become identified. The condition
of the village of Osmotherly, in the autumn of 1825,
has been described as resembling that of a plague-
stricken locality. Fever, small-pox, and whooping-
cough, were epidemic on all hands, and Mary's
fellow-occupants of the "four roomed-cottage" were
a sick child, an infirm old woman, and a man of
seriously impaired intellect. As before noticed, her
cousin's brother-in-law died, and shortly afterwards
Mary closed the eyes of the sick husband. He left a
sick wife and three children, the youngest but three
weeks old. Mary had already become the chief
helper and adviser of the household. She assisted
all to the utmost of her ability, and took the prin-
cipal charge of her cousin's infant, which, three days
after its father's interment, died in her arms. The
child had become much endeared to Mary; but so
soon as she had performed the last sad offices of
friendship regarding it, she resumed her duties at the
bed-side of its still afflicted mother and grandmother.
In three weeks from the infant's death its mother
also expired, stricken with the worst form of typhus
fever. For a week Mary never quitted the bed-side
of the patient, either day or night; and, to add to her
difficulties, so affrighted had the neighbours become,
from the infectious nature of the sufferer's malady,


that they refused to render her any assistance, and
for nights in succession Mary was left to her lonely
watching by the bed-side of the dying. After her
cousin's death, Mary was left in charge of her two
children, and of .her cousin's affairs generally. The
charge of two orphan children was no small responsi-
bility, and Mary sighed for larger means wherewith
to carry out her benevolent designs. Such impres-
sions, however, were only evanescent; her faith and
hope remained unshaken; she permitted no distrust
of future means to frustrate purposes of present use-
fulness. Her only anxiety was clearly to apprehend
what was right and best to be done under all circum-
stances, and, having arrived at a decision to do it,
leaving the issue to a higher power. Soon after the
mother's death, the eldest boy was taken ill, and in
the following October he died, making the fourth
death she had witnessed within eight weeks. She
had attended him both day and night; but, instead of
complaining, could only find occasion to speak of his
endearing ways, accompanied by expressions of her
great regard for him. It may be supposed that from
the havoc made by death, almost to the decimation
of an entire family, Mary would have been inclined
to rest from her self-imposed labours; but it happened
that the typhus or spotted fever had by this time be-
come prevalent among the villagers, and her sympa-
thetic nature would not endure the thought of their
suffering unassisted, rough and uncouth as they were,


and notwithstanding all had fled from rendering her
any assistance when surrounded by the dead and
dying. Her experience of the disease was of so
much importance, and her total disregard of con-
tagion was such, that she was occupied incessantly in
attendance upon the sick. No wonder that the poor
people were grateful; that their veneration for Mary
was excessive, and that, in their untutored vernacular,
their self-elected nurse was always spoken of as some-
body almost super-human. In November, when the
epidemic had partially subsided, Mary visited her
relations' friends at Penrith, in Cumberland; but
before leaving Osmotherly she made provision for the
remaining orphan, settled her cousin's affairs, and
took care that her aunt was not left without things
Every kindness and sympathy were lavished on
Mary by her friends at Penrith, each and all con-
spiring to render her visit happy and agreeable. She
had been very weak and ill, so much so, that she
could scarcely write intelligibly, and had resided no
sufficient time with her friends to recruit, in any
degree, her exhausted energies; nevertheless, in less
than a month from the time of her leaving Osmo-
therly, she was recalled thither, by the intelligence
that her aunt was stricken with typhus fever, and likely
to die, and she begged she might see her devoted
niece once more. Regardless of the ease and com-
fort by which she was surrounded, and of the risk


she ran by re-entering the infected locality, Mary
bid adieu to her Penrith friends, and on a cheerless
December day travelled alone on her mission of
mercy to the ill-starred Osmotherly. Here she pur-
sued again the trying round of duty in which she
had before been engaged. Her correspondence at
this time, while descriptive of the trials and painful
inconveniences she was compelled to endure, is
marked by sympathy, hope, and resignation. In
one of her letters to a friend she thus refers to her
situation at this time: "We two (her aunt and
herself) are the only beings in this little cottage,
for I have sent her sons out to sleep, as a precaution
against the fever, and put a bed into a corner of the
room for myself; could you see me acting in the
four-fold capacity which I adopt in this humble
cottage, you would hardly believe me to be the same
being who, a week ago, was installed in all the
honours of a privileged visitor, amid the luxuries of
Cockle House (Penrith), acting 'lady' solely, to the
utmost of my ability. It amuses me to find how
easily it all sits upon me, and how readily we may
adapt ourselves to varieties of situation, and find
something to enjoy in all."
Her aunt gradually recovered; but Mary's over
exertion now told upon her general health, and she
suffered from severe indisposition; but the same ge-
nial temperament, which always made her seem
happy, remained with her still, in spite of her suf-


ferings. Disregarding her own illness, she rejoiced
at the returning convalescence of her aunt, and
enjoyed the mirth of her little cousin.
In January, 1826, Mary again left Osmotherly,
on which occasion a tribute of admiration was paid
to her by almost the entire village turning out and
escorting her on her way. She returned to Penrith,
in the endeavour once more to recruit her health,
and her letters thence overflow with gratitude for
the kindness she there received, and present a strik-
ing contrast to the sorrow and anguish to which she
had so lately ministered. The news of her illness
had obtained currency among her friends in America,
producing letters which clearly evince the high esti-
mation in which she was held there. The fact of
her exertions caused no surprise to those in America
who knew her best, their only fear being that her
physical organization would sink under the ordeal.
One of her correspondents repeats an anecdote which
shows the light in which her services were regarded,
and that she was even looked upon as a public bene-
factress. "With all their desire for your return," her
friend writes, nobody murmurs; everybody says
it is much better for you to stay; and Mrs. Barnard
says, when she expressed her sorrow about it to your
pastor, he gave her, for the first time in his life,
almost an angry look."
Mary returned to America in the summer of 1826,
and was received by her friends with every demon-


station of gratulation and affection. Her worth
was generally acknowledged and appreciated; she
found her fame had unconsciously preceded her, and
she was welcomed into the society of the wisest and
best of the inhabitants of Boston. The seductions of
ease and of genteel society did not, however, allure
her from her chosen pursuit of doing good. During
the winter of 1826, her days were chiefly occupied in
visiting the poor, gathering information as to their
ways and wants, endeavouring to lead them to better
modes of life, helping their present necessities, and
pointing out the best means by which they could
help themselves. On the Sunday she instructed
classes of poor children in various schools.
But we now approach an important epoch in our
heroine's history. Some years before, Mary, when a
mere girl, had made the acquaintance of Henry
Ware, then a theological student at Cambridge,
Massachusetts, he being a few years her senior.
There had necessarily occurred a considerable hiatus
in the course of their friendship; in the interval
which had thus elapsed, Henry Ware had become a
husband, a father, and a widower, and had won for
himself general recognition as a man of great intelli-
gence, and an eloquent divine of augmenting in-
fluence. The accidents of society at Boston led to
a renewal of the acquaintance between Mary and
Mr. Ware, who was by no means tardy in appreciat-
ing her good qualities. She in turn found in him a


nature and a disposition in which she could wholly
confide. They were married, June, 1827 regardless
of the vulgar prejudices which sometimes attach to
the position of step-mother, Mary at once essayed to
do her whole duty in the new relationship. Her
biographer says: She had no sympathy, and little
respect, for that narrow view which insists that one
affection must crowd out another." Referring to
Mr. Ware's former wife, she was heard to say: "She
was the nearest and dearest to him; how, then, can I
do otherwise than love and cherish her memory?"
The two children she took to her heart at once, and
so won their perfect love, that in after years any
allusion to the fact of her not being "their own
mother" would occasion them regret; and when at
last they lost her, the son, then a grown man,
exclaimed, Surely God never gave a boy such a
mother, or a man such a friend."
From the first, Mr. Ware was conscious of the
treasure he had taken to himself, and assuredly no
wife was ever received into a family more completely
with open arms and heartfelt rejoicing. Even the
poorest of the parish paid her visits of respect. Un-
happily for Mary Ware, she was permitted to enjoy
but a single year of uninterrupted earthly felicity.
At the expiration of that period, Mr. Ware's health
began to decline; he had been preaching at a distance,
and was attacked with fever on his way home, whither
he was removed, by his wife's assistance, when suffi-


ciently recovered. A few weeks after, her first child,
a son, was born, who lived but a short time, or just
long enough to thoroughly endear him to his parents.
So completely prostrated had Mr. Ware been by the
severity of his illness, that he found himself unable to
return to the duties of the pastoral charge in which
he had been engaged. Various expedients were tried
to invigorate him, but they were only partially suc-
cessful, and in the spring of 1829, he was compelled
to virtually resign his pastoral charge, and a colleague
pastor was chosen, while a new professorship was
planned for him in the divinity school at Cambridge.
Prior to entering upon this new sphere of duty, how-
ever, friends supplied him with means to visit Europe,
in search of the health he had lost; and in April,
1829, he sailed with his wife from Boston, for Europe,
where, during the ensuing seventeen months, they
were occupied in the tour undertaken for the purpose
already indicated. Three children were left behind,
in the charge of friends, temporary separation from
whom was a source of much pain and anxiety to their
fond parents.
Notwithstanding they visited England, France,
Italy, and other continental countries, Mr. Ware's
recovery was slow and unsatisfactory; but amid all
he was not idle, for it was during his travels that he
began his work on the Christian Character," in
which he was often assisted by his amiable wife, as
amanuensis. It was during this tour, that unmis-


takable indications were shown that the health 6f
Mrs. Ware also was giving way, and that the many
and severe ordeals, to which her physical nature had
been subjected, were now telling upon her general
health. In the course of their excursion they were
many times a good deal straitened in circum-
stances, yet did Mrs. Ware find means to assist her
aunt at Osmotherly, even with money. In July,
1830, Mr. and Mrs. Ware again returned to the
United States. On the passage he was again at-
tacked with an alarming illness; but he rallied, and
by the time they landed, was restored once more to
his usual condition. They took up their residence
at Cambridge, U.S., in October, when Mr. Ware
entered upon the professorship which had been
created for him. For a period of twelve years the
subsequent life of Mrs. Ware was only marked by
the usual family casualties, the impaired health of
her husband, the death of one child, the birth of
others, and the necessity that existed to bear up
against the adverse influences of deficient means.
In 1842, Mr. Ware's health fairly broke down, and,
after much suffering and anxious suspense, he ex-
pired at Framingham (whither they had removed but
a short time before), September 22nd, 1843, and
was interred at Cambridge. Sometime after Mr.
Ware's death, Mrs. Ware accepted an offer, which
had been made her by a gentleman, to take charge of
the instruction of his children. Here the symptoms


of the fatal malady, the existence of which she had
reason some time before to suspect, were fully deve-
loped, and her seven children were made acquainted
with the mournful fact. Her disease, from that
time, gained ground; life was ebbing by perceptible
degrees, and her biographer records that, "On a
lovely April day, the windows of her room all open,
that she might breathe more freely, she looked up at
one who entered and said, with a smile, What a
beautiful day to go home.'" She died; and on Good
Friday, April, 1849, her remains were laid beside
those of her husband, in the cemetery of Mount
Such was the life and such the death of Mary
Ware. While there was nothing startling or brilliant
in her career, it was yet characterized throughout as
a course of noiseless, unostentatious practical philan-
thropy. Her power was essentially that of endurance ;
sanctified by spontaneous, inexhaustible love of God's
creatures; sustained by an exalted sense of duty,
and of obedience to the Divine will. For her work's
sake her memory will long be had in remembrance.
The conclusion is irresistible, that she was one of
those "good and faithful servants," who, from the
Master, at his coming, will receive a glad welcome
" into the joy of their Lord."


" NAVVIES," by popular consent, are known to be a
wild, migratory, and dangerous class. Much of the
opposition to railway schemes, from country towns and
villages, has arisen from the dread of the necessity of
large numbers of navvies residing in their neigh-
bourhood for a lengthened period. This fear was
not without foundation. It would have been strange
indeed if two or three thousand men, of the very
rawest and roughest sort, living almost entirely in
the open air, congregated in some quiet village,
and having no other resort or relaxation but the
beer-house, should have passed months together with-
out emeutes which at times would require the strong
arm of the law to subdue. It was left to one lady-
singularly modest, as we may well believe she was
gentle, to awaken conviction in the minds of these
outlaws; not by might or by daring, not by force or
coercion, were these wild spirits tamed; the soft
word, the gentle admonition, given in no Pharisaical
spirit, changed the lion into the lamb, and was made


to effect the conversion of many of these s6ns of
In the year 1853 the works in connection with the
Crystal Palace at Sydenham commenced. About
three thousand excavators, or navvies, were engaged.
They found lodgings it various places; about two
hundred had temporary homes in the small village
of Beckenham, near the Palace grounds. Miss
Marsh, the daughter of the Vicar of Beckenham,
thought it desirable, one Sunday evening, to acquire
by personal intercourse a little knowledge of this
strange and wild people. Presuming upon a slight
previous acquaintance with the owner of one of the
cottages, where several of them lodged, she knocked
at the door and inquired for him. A tall, strong man
opened the door, but scarcely wide enough to show
his face.
Harry ain't here just now," was the answer to
the inquiry.
"But I suppose I shall see him if I wait, shall I
not ? I will walk in, if you will allow me."
"Well, you can if you like; but we're a lot of
rough 'uns."
"Oh thank you; I do not mind that. You will
be very civil to me, I am sure. Would you get me
a chair?"
An intelligent youth darted forward, dusted a chair
with the tail of another "man's cdat, and placed it for
the visitor near the table.


Miss Marsh then entered into conversation with
them, and gave an account of the morning sermon,
which had been preached to improve the death of an
esteemed medical man of the neighbourhood. When
she had concluded, Edward Perry, one of the navvies,
said, Well, ma'am, it's a beautiful story, but, in a
measure, it passes by me, because I don't believe the
Bible." He gave as his reason: Because I read in
the Bible that God is a God of love, and yet that he
has prepared from all eternity a place of torment for
us poor, pitiful creatures."
"In my Bible," said Miss Marsh, "I have never
read anything of the sort. I read that God is love,
and that the Lord Jesus will say, at the judgment
day, to those who have believed and obeyed him,
' Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom
prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'
But to those who have rejected his salvation and
despised his laws, he will say,' Depart, ye cursed,
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his
angels.' If a man chooses to reject God's offer of
mercy through a Saviour, and to prepare himself
for that place of punishment, he has no right to
charge God with the result of his own sin and wilful
"Well," he replied, "I do see that in a different
case from what I thought before. But now, look
here: I am a poor fellow-don't pretend nor profess-
yet I have a quarrel with a mate-feel to hate him-


will drub him next time we light on one another-
I think better of it-offer him half my bread and
cheese when we chance of meeting-and we're friends.
Now, why can't God do a generous action like that,
and forgive us outright?"
Miss Marsh in a few simple words told the story
of the fall, and of the cross, concluding with the
words: God so loved the world, that He gave His
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him
should not perish, but have everlasting life." That
Son of God became man; He was born into this
world for one purpose-to make an infinite sacrifice
with infinite suffering-all for one purpose. This is
that purpose. The Son of man is come to seek and
to save that which is lost. He is drawing nigh-
He is come to you, now. He is speaking these words
of his own by my feeble lips. Are you willing to let
Him save you ?"
"I am, I am," he said, with fervour, drawing his
chair nearer the speaker; "I never thought of Him
before but as an angry God. You make Him out a
"And so will you find God a friend," was the
reply, when you read His Word. But I want you
to kneel down and join with me in praying that God
would give you His Holy Spirit from this hour-that
these better thoughts and feelings may not pass away.
Shall I pray with you ?"
"I should like it. But this man,"-pointing to


one behind him-" never opens his mouth but to
But he will open it to pray now; will you not,
my friend ?"
Yes." Then they all knelt down; broken sobs
burst from them, telling how powerfully they were
affected by the prayer of the affectionate intercessor.
On leaving, Miss Marsh requested them to read the
Bible together; when she was gone, Edward took
down the landlady's Bible and opened at the third of
John. It was with no common feelings that Miss
Marsh left the cottage, lingering at the door to hear
the full tones of Edward's earnest voice-truly might
she thank God and take courage. It is a singular
circumstance that that was the first and only time
Miss Marsh met that young man. Every subsequent
inquiry was fruitless. But who shall say that the seed
sown in that rough man's heart will not bloom and
blossom throughout eternity ?
It was this cordial reception given to the friendly
advances of Miss Marsh that induced her to make
arrangements, in several humble ways, for the
spiritual improvement of the navvies. As few of
them ever thought of entering a place of worship,
her first care was to provide them special religious
services on Sabbath evenings, and also twice on the
week evenings. Miss Marsh knew that simply open-
ing a place for meeting would avail little without per-
sonal solicitation; she therefore canvassed from house


to house, not forgetting the public-houses, in search
of volunteers. It is a singular fact, that during an
intercourse with these men, extending over a period
of three years, only once was she met with a direct
insult, and then the man was partially drunk.
"About the time of first meeting William G.,"
wrote Miss Marsh in her journal, "I addressed a
youth of nineteen or twenty, named John H., on
my way to the cottage where we assembled on the
Sunday evening: 'Will you come to church next
Sunday ?'
"' Church I no; I never goes to such places.'
"'Will you come to a cottage where we have a
Scripture-reading for Crystal Palace workmen ?'
"'No; I goes to nothing of that sort.'
"'Perhaps you would like a little Testament to
carry in your waistcoat pocket ?'
"' I shouldn't mind that.'
"Crossing the road, I spoke to another young man,
who looked two or three years older, and received the
same refusals; but met with fixed attention, when I
told him of my father's first sermon, and the story of
a man who was called 'Swearing Tom' before he
heard it, and 'Praying Tom' ever after. Turning
round, I saw John H. had followed me, and was
listening earnestly.
I'll come now to that 'ere reading you spoke of.
Where is it ?'
"' And so will I,' said the other, a ruddy, fresh-


faced youth; 'I'm Henry, elder brother to he.
They kept their promise faithfully.
"This young man (John H.), so unpromising at the
first, gave, in a short time, promise of a new life; but,
like thousands besides him, he was not able to bear
temptation, and so fell away from his good resolves.
Upon being sought out again, and reasoned with by
Miss Marsh, to her invitations to the cottage meet-
ings he replied, 'No, never again.' On being urged
to state his reason, he said, Because it don't do to
live two lives.' Happily he was induced to live but
one, and that in the truest sense-the Christian
Miss Marsh, knowing the humanizing influence of
social life, arranged for a tea-meeting with the navvies.
She thus records it in her journal:-
"It occurred to us that it would be a pleasant
little plan to have a tea-party for our new friends,
who, from their wandering life, seem so much cut
off from innocent social enjoyments. We also felt it
would be an expression of approbation of their
attendance upon public worship, and at schoolroom
and cottage readings. As it was the height of
summer, the late hour at which they returned from
their work was no hinderance to their accepting invi-
tations to a tea-party, which were duly sent to each
man, and were received with a kind of subdued ex-
citement. Orders were given for shirts, smock-
frocks (slops), to be washed and starched with


double care, and a large supply of soap was bought
up for the occasion.
"The schoolroom was decorated with festoons of
flowers, and a button-hole bouquet of geranium and
jessamine was tied up with blue ribbon, and laid upon
each plate. Long afterwards, I saw some of these
flowers carefully preserved in books.
"To a minute, at the appointed time, our friends
arrived-each man looking as clean as a baby on its
christening day. Faces and hands had been scrubbed
till they shone again. They quietly and quickly
seated themselves; and no gentlemen in the United
Kingdom could have conducted themselves more
There was no constraint of manner,-on the con-
trary, perfect ease. There was no loud talking, but
many a cheerful remark. Not an expression was
used which we could have wished had been otherwise;
but the frank and hearty enjoyment of the evening
was delightful to see.
"As the clock struck ten, the chief speaker amongst
them, after a short conference with the leaders of the
party, said, We have taken up a great deal of the
ladies' time, and had better go now.' Several said,
as they went out, Never spent a happier evening-
never, nohow I'"
In intercourse of this simple generous character
was the first year's experience of navvy life passed.
So remarkable was Miss Marsh's restraining in-


fluence upon these rough sons of toil, that at the
close of 1853 the sergeant of police, stationed at
Beckenham, called to return thanks for the interest
taken in them; that his duties had never been so
easy before, even before the navvies came, and that
some of the wild young men of the place had been
shamed into attendance at public worship. Well
might Miss Marsh, at the close of the year, write
in her journal: "Hitherto hath the Lord helped
About this time a letter was sent to each of the
3000 workmen at the Crystal Palace, which was pro-
ductive, from time to time, of the most delightful


"Friends and Neighbours,-You are building a
wonderful edifice, and we hope that it will be for the
welfare, and not for the injury of the people of Great
Britain. You have witnessed a fearful accident. Oh I
let it lead you to two thoughts:
"' I am a lost sinner;'
'I have a gracious Saviour;'
And let every one of you lift up your hearts and
"'Lord Jesus, save me;
"'Give me thy Holy Spirit.'
"Let us beg of you to read the Word of God daily;
and never let a day pass in which you look at the


Crystal Palace without praying God to give you a
'house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.'
"M C-
C-- M-.
'Almighty God pardon all my past sins; they
are very many, and only Christ's blood can wash
them away. Turn me, by the power of Thy Holy
Spirit, from all my evil ways. Give me a new heart,
guide and direct me in the right way, and help me to
live a new and holy life. I ask these things in the
name and for the sake of Jesus Christ. Amen.' "

One instance may be cited of the usefulness of this
simple letter. Early in 1854, one of the navvies, who
had an affection of the chest, was provided with
board, lodgings, and medical attendance at one of
the cottages, and afterwards sent to a London hos-
pital. While there, he thought much of what he had
heard at the cottage readings at Beckenham, and
talked with the sick in the ward where he lay, about
it. One night he was aroused by one of the patients
exclaiming, "Oh I am dying-I am dying-where
am I going ?" John N-, the navvy, rose and went
to the side of the sick man's bed, and asked, What
is your hope for getting to heaven ?"
"Well, I have done no murder, nor wronged my
But that is not enough," said John. I used to
think so; but just of late I've learned different.


I've got a bit of a printed letter to us Exhibition
workmen, which tells the whole story, and I'll tell it
to you. It says:-' I am a lost sinner, I have a gra-
cious Saviour.' And a card of prayer which came
with it says, 'My sins are very many, and only
Christ's blood can wash them away!' "
The poor man begged him to repeat the whole of
the short prayer to him again and again, until he
had learned it. Two or three times, next day, he
begged John to read to him out of his New Testa-
ment, and in the night he died-repeating, almost
with his last breath, "My sins are very many, and
only Christ's blood can wash them away."
Miss Marsh's journal furnishes, sometimes, almost
in a single line, the secret of her usefulness, in em-
bracing every opportunity, whenever presented, to
do good. And many times results of the most cheer-
ing and encouraging kind followed even a single
moment's conversation.
This is one of her journal entries:-
On the way home, I saw a young man sitting at
the door of a lodging-house; and, after a few re-
marks to him about the place, inquired whether he
had attended either service in Church that day ?
'No-I never go to such a place.'
Will you tell me why you do not ?'
Because it would do me no good.'
Do you read your Bible?'
'No-that would do me no good neither.'


"' Shall I tell you what would do you good?'
He looked up. 'If you and I pray every day that
God would fill you with His Holy Spirit. I will
pray it for you, by God's help, if you will promise
to pray it for yourself.'
His lip trembled, as he slowly and earnestly re-
plied, I will.' Here is another touching instance
of the fulfilment of earnest desire."
One day, while Miss Marsh was waiting for the
train at Sydenham Station, she gave some small
books to two young railway men on the platform.
On being asked if they had either a Bible or Testa-
ment, one replied, I've a little pocket Testament,
and I wouldn't part with it for ever so much-no,
never !"
I am glad you prize it so highly."
"Well, I do; and the kind friend as gave it me."
"Who gave it you ?"
"You. Nigh a year ago, I lodged at Mrs. D- 's,
in Beckenham; and you came in twice of Sunday
evenings, and read and talked to us. I have read
my Testament most nights since, and thought a good
deal of what you said, and wished I was back again
to hear more. I'm at work in Essex, and only
came down to fetch a mate of mine, as I didn't
know how to direct to. And little did I think I
should light on you, ma'am. It is a pleasure in-
"That short interview," writes Miss Marsh, was


like a wave bringing back, after many days, the
bread cast upon the waters."
Here is another thankful reminiscence :-" A pri-
vate of the Grenadier Guards was passing through
the village, when I was on my way for a Sunday
evening reading.' He accepted a Testament grate-
fully, and asked me to write his name in it, with the
short prayer which I had mentioned ,to him. For
this purpose we entered a cottage, and its owners
gladly united with us in praying that the Word of
God might be made the means of his being brought
from darkness to light. The day before the regiment
sailed for the East, he wrote to say that his Testa-
ment and his little prayer were his chief comforts.
He begged that the souls of his wife and child might
be cared for; and asked for further advice to be
written, to meet him at Malta. From thence, he
wrote to say that he had copied the prayer for a great
many men in his own regiment, and in others;
because it had brought grace and peace to his own
soul. He did not live to return home."
"On the evening of the 1st of June," writes Miss
Marsh, "a lecture was to be delivered at the school-
room, with reference to the keeping of the Sabbath,
by Mr. Baylee, the [late] Secretary of the Society
for Promoting the Observance of the Lord's Day. I
ventured to go, with a friend who was staying with
us, to the doors of a public-house, to request the
strangers who had recently arrived to attend. They


came in large numbers, so as to fill the schoolroom.
As I knocked at the door of a beer-shop, a notorious
drunkard, in the supper-room, saw me, and said,
' Iere's the lady come that spoils our peace with
the beer-jugs ?'
"' Bar her out, then,' said a fine young man,
without deigning to turn round. I turned to invite
the landlady, and then stood still for a moment,
waiting for courage to speak to the men in the
supper-room. The landlady said, 'Would you like
to invite them, ma'am?' I then asked the youth,
who had proposed the 'barring-out.' He said he
could not go, as he was a stranger, and must leave in
a few minutes. His dog-cart stood at the door, with
beer-bottles in the 'well.' Have you a Bible of
your own at home ?'
Quantities but they have never done me any
good. They do for women and cowards.'
'Very good for them, without a doubt,' I replied,
'and for brave men too. I happen to have in
my pocket a letter from a young friend of mine, who
writes from the Guards' camp at Varna. Listen to
what he says about the comfort of the Word of God,
and prayer for the Holy Spirit.'
"The young man listened to it with melting eyes,
and then said, 'There's both power and beauty in
that.' He was moved to tears by the story of Hedley
Vicars' conversion; and when it was pressed upon
him that the words, the blood of Jesus Christ His


Son cleanseth us from all sin,' were just as true for
him; and would he not likewise say, Then, hence-
forth, by the grace of God, I will live as a washed
man should;' he was entirely overcome, and rushed
out of the house. When I went out, he was waiting
for me, to say,' I thought, ma'am, you would let me
speak to you alone. Will you let me buy tne of
your little Testaments, and will you write my name
in it, and that text, to remind me of what you have
been saying to me, and to show to my two young
sisters ?' His lip trembled; and he said, again and
again, 'God bless you!' as I left him, with the
promise of sending him a Testament as a remem-
brancer, and a letter with it, to recal to him, when at
a distance, the subject of our conversation."
It was in this way that Miss Marsh endeared her-
self to all those with whom she came in contact. Her
association with the navvies, during the whole period
of the erection of the Palace, was of the most tender
and sympathising kind. Eternity can only disclose
the extent of the benefits then conferred. A few
simple words spoken in faith, a few kindly acts done
without ostentation, won the respect and esteem of
those roughest sons of toil. Men who seldom spoke
without an oath, now bent the knee in humble prayer
-who had no pleasure save in beer and the com-
pany of the ale-house, now longed for the reading of
the Scriptures, and the spiritual lesson. What a sight
must that have been, to see great strong hardy men,


of Herculean mould, who, up to that period, had de-
lighted in the grossest sensuality, now kneeling as the
infant at the feet of its mother, to acknowledge past
sins, and to pray for guidance and light to come I
That which may be fairly denominated as a second
portion of Miss Marsh's ministering work, commenced
with the formation of the Army Works Corps, which
consisted, from first to last, of nearly four thousand
men. News was brought to the Rectory, on the even-
ing of the 19th of May, of the arrival of some of the
men at Beckenham. Miss Marsh, in company with
the sister of Hedley Vicars, at once proceeded to
make their acquaintance. The new-comers were de-
scribed as the roughest lot that had ever come
to the place." Some little opposition was made at
first; but very soon their hearts and confidence yielded
to the interest which the men felt Miss Marsh and
Miss Vicars had towards them. They had been met
with friendly interest; they returned it with generous
sympathy. It was, then, easy to induce them to
attend the "readings." One of the men, described
as "the tallest, darkest, and wildest," sat for an hour
after returning from one of the readings," and cried
like a child; he said, "he wished he might have
listened to it all night." At one of the cottage meet-
ings, a navvy said at the close, I wish the whole lot
could hear these things. We're all together outside
the Crystal Palace at seven of a morning, and the
paymaster says we're the finest lot he ever saw, and


the wildest-just like four hundred roaring lions."
The hint was taken-Miss Marsh drove to the ground
by seven the next morning. She joined the men in
conversation, and distributed amongst them little
books and cards of prayer. Not one uncivil word was
spoken; not one unwilling hand received the prayer.
Indeed, Miss Marsh records the fact, that, in all her
acquaintance with working men, she never heard a
single oath, or one expression which could, in the
remotest degree, shock or pain her.
This morning's visit, so cheerfully received, and so
full of hopeful results, was repeated each morning at
"roll-call," and always met with the same respectful
reception. The Sunday before the men expected to
leave England, they crowded every part of the church,
listening with profound attention to the sermon.
Previous to the departure of the men to the Crimea,
Miss Marsh undertook to take charge of any part of
the large wages, which they chose to empower her to
receive during their absence. A considerable number
of the men accepted the proposal. Many of them
requested her to forward, at stated periods, a portion
of their savings to relatives. Wives and children, aged
mothers, infirm fathers, widowed sisters, sickly bro-
thers, and orphan nieces, were remembered and
benefited by their earnings, which, without this fore-
thought, would have been dissipated as soon as
obtained. The men were each presented with receipts
for their money orders, which, so soon as they under-


stood, they flung back into the carriage, by common
consent, with something like a shout of disdain, at
the supposition that they could possibly require such
a pledge of honesty from a friend and a lady."
Before embarking, the men received their wages
in full; the day following, they expected to go on board
the transport. That night, more than a hundred of
the workmen spent in drinking. To their credit,
none of those who had attended the cottage "read-
ings" were amongst the number. The next morning
a terrible fight took place, between the police and the
workmen. As soon as Miss Marsh heard of the
.circumstance, she instantly ordered her carriage, and
drove to the scene of action.
She records the incidents in her journal, as they
transpired, after her arrival:-
"Just then, a great accession of navvies poured
down from the top of the hill, and from the Crystal
Palace gates, with cries of 'Down with the police!
rescue the prisoners punish the police well!'
"The police stood to their arms gallantly enough,
for the numbers against them were overwhelming,
and the men not unjustly enraged. The moment was
come. We drove between; and, like Nehemiah, in
that moment's pause, I prayed to the God of hea-
ven.' Then, turning to the crowd of some five
hundred men with already upraised missiles, I said,
"The first man who throws a stone is my enemy.
We will have no more fighting to-day, by God's help I


Haven't we had enough of it already ?-two policemen
nearly killed, and seven of our poor fellows perhaps
to be transported for life, or hanged, if the wounded
men die. Go back, and give over, for my sake-for
the sake of that God of peace, of whom I have so
loved to speak with you.'
"A brief silence followed, and then some remon-
strated: 'Do you go away, ma'am. We wouldn't
hurt you for anything; but it is not fair to hinder us
paying off the p'leece.'
"' I shall not go away till you are gone, if I stay
here till midnight. You will not murder men before
my eyes, I know.'
"' We don't want to vex you,' said two or three
spokesmen; but we will set our mates free.'
"'They shall be free,' I said-' these innocent
men whom we have seen taken prisoners before our
eyes. If there be justice in England, they shall be
free, to go with you to the Crimea. I pledge myself
not to rest till it is done. Will you trust me?'
"There was a pause; and then a short conference
between leading spirits was followed by loud shouts
of Trust ye to the world's end!'
"'Then prove it by going back within the Crystal
Palace gates.'
"In five minutes I was left alone, with the police
and with the prisoners."
The next morning Miss Marsh received a request
that she would go out with the men to the Crimea,

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