very night after my father’s death, and a solemn prayer was offered then, that I might combine what is due to others with what is due to myself. The spirit of that prayer I shall constantly endeavor to maintain. What ought to be done for a few months to come is plain, and, as I proceed, the view will open.’
TRIAL.
The death of her father brought in its train a disappointment as keen as Margaret could well have been called on to bear. For two years and more she had been buoyed up to intense effort by the promise of a visit to Europe, for the end of completing her culture. And as the means of equitably remunerating her parents for the cost of such a tour, she had faithfully devoted herself to the teaching of the younger members of the family. Her honored friends, Professor and Mrs. Farrar, who were about visiting the Old World, had invited her to be their companion; and, as Miss Martineau was to return to England in the ship with them, the prospect before her was as brilliant with generous hopes as her aspiring imagination could conceive. But now, in her journal of January 1, 1836, she writes: —
‘The New-year opens upon me under circumstances
inexpressibly sad. I must make the last great sacrifice,
and, apparently, for evil to me and mine. Life,
as I look forward, presents a scene of struggle and
privation only. Yet “I bate not a jot of heart,” though
much “of hope.” My difficulties are not to be
compared with those over which many strong souls have
triumphed. Shall I then despair? If I do, I am not a
strong soul.’
