fulfilments, from each form of beauty, and to regard them merely as Angels of The Beauty.’
‘June, 1842. — Why must children be with perfect
people, any more than people wait to be perfect to be
friends? The secret is, — is it not? — for parents to feel
and be willing their children should know that they are
but little older than themselves; only a class above, and
able to give them some help in learning their lesson.
Then parent and child keep growing together, in the
same house. Let them blunder as we blundered. God
is patient for us; why should not we be for them?
Aspiration teaches always, and God leads, by inches. A
perfect being would hurt a child no less than an
imperfect.’
‘It always makes my annoyances seem light, to be
riding about to visit these fine houses. Not that I am
intolerant towards the rich, but I cannot help feeling at
such times how much characters require the discipline
of difficult circumstances. To say nothing of the need
the soul has of a peace and courage that cannot be
disturbed, even as to the intellect, how can one be sure of
not sitting down in the midst of indulgence to pamper
tastes alone, and how easy to cheat one’s self with the
fancy that a little easy reading or writing is quite work.
I am safer; I do not sleep on roses. I smile to myself,
when with these friends, at their care of me. I let
them do as they will, for I know it will not last long
enough to spoil me.’
‘I take great pleasure in talking with Aunt Mary.[1]
- ↑ Miss Rotch, of New Bedford.
