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M C M X . 







the »e««r*? of uthoftc neavnc^^, 
tUoix^lh xtuftccu, 


She is sweet and she's fair, 

Very fair , 

And her eyes and her hair 

Lend an air 

Thai subtly encharm, 



And her song and her smile. 

They beguile. 
While the swift-moving shade 

On the dial, 
Unheeded, the fleet 

Hours while. 


O, she's sweet, and so fair, 

Very fair; 

So innocent and 


With her none compare, 

She's so rare! 













rAROLYN was born into this human Hfe, 
at Roselyn, which was then the home of 
her family, on Orange Road, Montclair, 
New Jersey, at half past two o'clock. 
I'Viday morning, December seventeenth, 
eighteen ninety-six. 

She was the second daughter and fourth child of 
Washington Irving Lincoln and Grace [Wilson] 
Adams. Through her father she was descended 
from Henry Adams, of Braintree (Quincy), Massa- 
chusetts, who was the common Ancestor of Samuel 
Adams, the Patriot; and of the Presidential Branch 
of the Adams Family. Through her mother she 
descended from the Wilson family, of Virginia, and, 
later, of Pennsylvania, whose Ancestor was Q>lonel 
Alexander Wilson, who fell in the battle of Mon- 
mouth, New Jersey, during the Revolutionary strug- 
gle, and who was said to be a cousin of James Wilson, 
the Signer, of Philadelphia. 

Carolyn was a most winsome baby, and very early 
won and held the love of all who came in contact with 
her rare Personality. At first she seemed sensitive, 
and rather shy; 'but she soon overcame this natural 
timidity, and radiated love and joy and trustfulness 
as a beautiful flower radiates joy and beauty and 
fragrance upon all who come witliin its lovely sphere 
of influence. 


Very early in her conscious life upon Earth Carol 
made references to her previous existence. She 
would often say, "I have been here before, you know" ; 
or, "when I was here before you were not my father 
and mother, and I did not live in a beautiful home; 
but I was a poor little child; that is why I love poor 
little children so much now." Or, at another tune, 
when she was a little older, she would say: *'I have 
been in this world before, but I shall not come again ; 
I do not have to come again." 

She often talked of flying, as a child, and, confidently 
affirmed her personal conviction that she could fly. 
One reason why she was so very fond of horseback 
riding was because, as she would say, *'It is just like 
flying." And to see her freely galloping over the 
hills of her beloved New Hampshire farms, without 
saddle, and even without briddle, save for the single 
string attached to her horse's mouth ; sometimes in a 
whirling snow storm, or in wind and rain; was to see 
an equestrian creature more like a Valkyre than a 
human child. 

Her horsemanship was perfect because it was utterly 
without fear, and it embraced a loving and personal 
knowledge of horses and their ways. She would ride 
.side saddle, cross saddle, bare back, on any of our 
horses, or with two horses, side by side, or in tandem, 
riding one and driving the other. She drove with per- 
fect freedom any of our horses, singly, double, or four- 

I (. I. 


in-hand; and had succeeded in perfectly controlling 
and driving a highly strung, and nervous, three-year- 
old pony colt. 

When others failed in catching any desired horse 
from the pastures, she would always succeed in doing 
so without any difficulty, or the usual subterfuge of a 
measure of grain, by simply walking up to the shy 
animal with outstretched hand and sympathetic word 
and attach the halter. She, alone, could overcome the 
stubbornness of the donkey. "Ned," who was the 
children's first animal friend and companion. 

Her best-beloved was the Morgan mare, "Belle," 
between whom and her there seemed to exist a perfect 
understanding. We are happy in thinking that she 
acquired actual ownership of this favorite horse dur- 
ing the past summer (1910), by a quaint little "deed"* 
from her brother to herself: 

♦This is a copy of "The Deed," found among her "Treas- 
ures," in her own dear hand. 

"A Deed by (Miss) Carolyn Adams. 

A pair of steers, three years old, are traded for a horse of 
Morgan Breed, aged 18 or 20; father and mother unknown, 
but the horse almost a thoroughbred by looks. 

A pair of young oxen, registered "Jack" and "Gardiner," 
aged three (3) years, worth Forty-five ($45.00) apiece, to 
be given to (Mr.) Wilson Adams, to do with as he sees fit, 
in exchange for the horse "Belle," 

(Signed by) Wilson I. Adams, 

W. I. L. Adams, 
M. E. Adams, 
Witnesses: G. W. Adams, 

Carolyn Adams, 
Elizabeth Platt. 


She firmly believed in the Continuing Life for 
animals, "especially for Horses and Dogs," as she 
would often say. And once she expressed the hope 
that she should ''meet at least seven people and one 
animal," in the Future Life. "Who is the animal, 
Carol, dear," we asked. "Why, 'Belle,' of course." 

(The day we left the Farms with the dear Temple 
which had ibeen the shrine of Carolyn's Spirit for nearly 
fourteen years here upon Earth, we conducted her 
beloved "Belle" to the autumn pastures, at dawn, and 
she shall surely be cherished by us, through winters 
and summers as long as her life shall endure.) 

Carol loved to read about Brunhilda and her flying 
horse, "Grane"; and for Jeanne d'Arc and her feats 
of horsemanship and chivalry, she had the greatest 
admiration and interest. Her favorite character in 
poetry and romance was Britomart, the knightly ideal 
of Edmund Spenser. These books she read and re- 
read many times, and she lived with them in her 
active imagination. She used often to "dress up," as 
"a Knight," as "A beautiful Princess," as "A Fairy" ; 
and would say: "I shall be a Queen some time!" 

As she lay "in her calm," after birth into the Larger 
Life, first in the sacred chamber at Knoll House, Hill- 
top Farms ; and again, amid her kindred and friends 
in the library of Irvingcroft, Montclair, surrounded 
by palms, and the profusion of white and pink flowers 
which she loved and which typefied her own perfect 


" STEPS." 




and beautiful Life, we were all struck and held by 
her transcendent beauty and queenliness. "Elaine" was 
the single word murmured by one dear friend as she 
gazed; "The Lady of Shalott," whispered another; 
while to us all she seemed the Princess of our dreams, 
reposing in calmness and dignity as befitted her beauti- 
ful Nature. 

Children hung over her in admiration, and tenderly 
laid upon her casket the single blossom which they 
had brought in their love, as to a Shrine. And upon 
her perfect 'breast reposed until the very last, a single 
white rose bud, sent by a precious friend who could 
not be with us in person, with these words: 

"The most beautiful blossom I could find for the 
most beautiful and perfect child I have ever known, 
and by far the dearest to me." 




CA R O L V N : A C O M P LET ED LI P E . 13 


When Carolyn was three ^ears old, it was her privi- 
lege, and ours, to meet and make the dear and 
intimate friend referred to at the conclusion of the 
preceding chapter; and this good friend became a 
member of our household for several years thereafter. 
Young though she was, Carol very soon recognized in 

Miss N the friend before whom she could ''think 

aloud," and to her she confided freely the innermost 
thoughts of her rare young mind. 

One morning, very early, when Carolyn was only 
four years old, this dear friend, on awakening, looked 
across the room to w here Carolyn lay, and noticed that 
she was already wide awake and had evidently been 
waiting patiently for her friend to awaken, too; for, 
turning her big luminous eyes, so full of the soul 
quality upon her older friend, she remarked: "Miss 

N- I have just found out that there is Something 

here, (placing her hand upon her heart) which is 
different from you ; and I know that you have Some- 
thing in you, Avhich is different from me, and That 
makes us each alone, doesn't it?" That seemed to 
be the conscious awakening of Carolyn's soul life. 

A little later, in the same year, she confided again to 

this dear intimate friend of her's: "Oh, Miss N 

I have just found something inside of me which 
won't let me do anything wrong, unless I try very 
hard to do it!" 


When Carolyn was five years old,, on hearing some 
rather unusual experience related at luncheon by a 
grown-up friend she observed in a perfectly matter-of- 
fact manner: "Oh, yes, / remember doing that once, 
when I was here before !" She referred to her previ- 
ous existence upon earth so often, and with such per- 
fect confidence, that though we at first thought this 
consciousness of her's was the fantasy of an unusually 
vivid imagination, her convictions upon this subject 
growing stronger as she grew older, caused us at 
length to accept her own clearly defined theory of a 
previous existence upon earth. 

From her earliest childhood Carolyn's intense and 
loving interest in being was very apparent. Anything 
living had a real fascination for her and all life was 
to her sacred. She felt the kinship of all life to an un- 
usual degree. 

One golden evening in early May, Carol and her 
little "Brother" had gone up to play on their own 
little "farm," which is quite a quarter of a mile from 
our country house on Hilltop Farms, and is on the 
edge of the "Great Wood," where wild creatures love 
to dwell. As the twilight deepened into dusk, the 
mother walked up through the intervening fields to 
bring home her bairns, for it was approaching their 
early bedtime. As she drew near their playing place, 
unseen, she overheard this dialogue, which followed 
a wild and startling stampede in the darkening woods 


With fear on his face little Lincoln turned toward 
Carolyn, who was calmly piling her firewood and, in 
awestruck whispers, exclaimed: ''Carol, do you think 
it is a bear?'' 

(A small one had recently been seen in one of our 
back pastures.) 

"It may be, Brother," replied Carolyn, in her low, 
level voice, *'or a hedgehog; or it may be just a 
frightened deer ; but whatever it is there is nothing to 
fear, for it is only a 'brother four-foot.' " 

This feeling of kinship with the animal kingdom 
grew and intensified as the years went on ; and was 
most manifest, perhaps, when any of her animal pets 
were in pain or hopelessly sick. She ministered to 
them most loyally and devotedly so long as there 
was any hope of their recovery ; but when all hope 
was abandoned she was the first to insist upon a pain- 
less death ; assisting herself, if need be, without shrink- 
ing or repulsion, for death never seemed to inspire 
Carolyn with fear or apprehension, and she was as 
sure of the Continuing Existence for her animal 
friends, as she was for human beings. 

Taken to the funeral services of a dearly-loved 
Grandma (by adoption) about two years ago, she ex- 
pressed no sorrow or regret for her dear old friend ; 
but said instead : "How nice it is that dear Grandma 

K may now be at rest. Of course, it is very sad 

for dear Auntie and for us ; but it is not sad at all for 

Grandma K . She is now with Grandpa, and is 

very happy." 


This sure faith in the Future Life, and the abiding 
power of love, grew out of her sense of harmony with 
all life about her, as it seems to us, and her conscious- 
ness, also, of the Benevolent Plan of a loving Creator. 
It accounts for the overflowing lovingness of her own 
rare nature, and gave to her that poise and repose and 
simple dignit}', which all recognized who came near 
her, and which drew to her young and old, and her 
animal friends as well. 

She possessed the moral serenity which grows out 
of the consciousness that *' All's zvell with the world," 
and she would often electrify us by the revelations 
which she made in conversation, especially last sum- 
mer, of the inner light which illuminated her soul and 

She read no psychic or })sychological books, despite 
her intuitive knowledge of these subjects ; but perused 
with intensest interest all nature books which she 
could find, (and her book shelves in this respect were 
quite complete), and the writings, in prose or verse, 
of all real lovers of nature. Jeffries' "Story of my 
Heart," was the story of her own, and his "Pageant 
of Summer" was her's. When she spent the day 
alone, under her favorite "Tree of Life," as she called 
it, high up in the Crag Pasture we knew that 

*'She spoke in her soul to the earth, the sun, 
the air, and the distant sea, far beyond sight." 

Returning one afternoon from a day on the Crags, 
she was asked by her mother, with some solicitude: 


"What have you been doing Carol, dear, under that 
wonderful old pine of yours?" 

Carolyn — "I have listened to the wind in the boughs, 
and looked off on the hills and the sky, and I have 
watched the horses at pasture, and I have dreamed 
^^awtiful dreams." 

Mother — ''But there is work to be done, you know, 
dear child." 

Carolyn — "Yes, mother, dear, I know ; but there are 
dreams to be dreamed, too. 

Mother — "Do you know, dearest Carol, that dreams 
must be given to others, to be of any great value. 
Will you ever be able to do that, do you think?" 

Carolyn — (With perfect confidence), "Yes, mother, 
dear, when I find the way. I am not yet able to play 
great things on my piano, or write what I think and 
feel, or paint what I see ; but I shall study very hard, 
and sofiie time I am sure I can make my dreams come 

Although she was very fond of her playmates and 
loved to be with her friends, older as well as younger, 
she preferred to wander off into the maple or pine 
woods at Hilltop Farms, and to the wooded hill- 
sides farther away, and there be perfectly happy for 
hours at a time, all by herself. Often she would 
take her pad and pencil and write out her little songs 
and stories ; or her painting kit, and make a sketch 
from nature in color. She particularly liked to take a 


light lunch with her and so be independent of the 
regular home meals. She often "slept out," under the 
trees or on the hillside, when she could secure consent, 
and the company of one or more of her brothers. Her 
favorite spot was always under the ancient pine 
tree high up on the hillside in our Crag pasture which 
she called her "Tree of Life." Here she particularly 
loved to linger at the sunset hour, and only God knows 
what her thoughts were at such times. 

Her little picture called "The Beloved Hills," was 
painted in water color from memory, and testifies to 
the indelible impression which the familiar landscape 
had made on her sensitive mind, for it is quite true 
to the original in nature. Her other little painting 
reproduced in these pages, which she called "Winter," 
was given to her father with a calendar at Christmas, 
when she was twelve years old, and was painted 
from her imagination, though it was undoubtedly sug- 
gested by the familiar New Hampshire farm house in 
winter. All of her drawings, water colors, and oil 
sketches show an unusual interpretive quality for a 
child so young we are told by her teachers. 

Carolyn composed two or three short pieces for her 
piano; one ("Children at Play," as she called it) she 
performed at a recital of the pupils of her teacher 
(Mrs. Cornelia Dyas White), when she was only about 
ten years old. 


She loved the Sea, and it drew and held her as if it 
were a Live Thing. She would stand on the shore 
alone for long periods of time, on the few occasions 
when she visited friends at the seaside, and gaze and 
gaze, silently and thoughtfully, with her Soul in her 
eyes, out on the wide expanse of water, and up at the 
overarching sky. 

Thunder storms, tempests of wind and rain, and 
particularly snow storms, were her delight. When 
all would seek shelter, we have found her sitting 
on the porch of our country home, luicovered, and 
with her face as calm as it was in death, while an 
electric storm was raging about us. "Why, Carol 
dear, aren't you afraid," we would instinctively ex- 
claim in our concern. ''Afraid? why of course not," 
she would reply, "it is beautiful!' Here is one of 
her songs, entitled : 



Soft and slow, 
High and low, 
Quietly, tenderly, 
Falls the snow. 

Drifting, sifting, 
Here and there, 
Fills the air, 

When at last 
The day is done. 
Stops the blast, 
And sets the sun. 


Her fondness for liowers and little children, es- 
pecially for babies, was consistent with her love for 
all natural and beautiful things. Another of her lit- 
tle songs combines her fondness for both flowers and 
babies. It is called: 


I know a darling baby, 
That in a garden plays — 
A lovely, lovely garden — 
On pleasant summer days. 

Her hair is like the sunshine, 
Her eyes are like the sky; 
She always smiles and coos, 
When anyone is by. 


Carolyn's love for stories which described the strug- 
gles and sorrows of the poor and lonely, particularly 
if they were children, was very marked. "J^^^"^^* ' 
by Mary E. Wilkins-Freeman, she read and re-read 
many times, as indeed she did all of Mrs. Freeman's 
books that came within her knowledge. 

Her love of poetry was also very marked and she en- 
joyed poems which would seem to be beyond one of 
her years. She had great facility in committing fa- 
vorite verses to memory, and enjoyed repeating or 
singing them at our Sunday evening family gather- 
ings before the wood fire. 

When she was younger, she took great delight in sit- 
ting for hours, on Sunday afternoons, with her father 
in his study, repeating favorite poems with him ; or, as 
she would say, "helping" him compose new ones. She 
was always his Inspiration and Joy. She saw pictures 
in the flames, and heard music in all the sounds of 
nature. She suggested many a poetic theme and motif, 
for hers was truly the Soul of a Poet and an Artist. 

The perfect love and understanding between her 
and her father, naturally made his verses great fa- 
vorites of hers, and once, when asked in class by her 
teacher, who her favorite ix)et was, she very promptly 
and simply replied : "Why, Father !'' His verses which 
she liked best of all were "A Garden Memory," which 
she used often to repeat when called upon for a recita- 
tion, and which she thus once gave in school, with 
much coniplacency. "Who wrote that, Carol ?" she 
was asked. "Father and T," was the prompt reply. 


In the intimacy of one of her Sunday afternoon talks 
with her father when she was quite a little girl, Carol 
told him that she was in the habit of repeating the 
"Garden Memory" after she had ''said her prayers." 

In later years her conversations with her father and 
mother were on subjects which would have seemed 
far beyond her years to comprehend ; but her intuitive 
mind would grasp in a flash the essential thought and 
the fundamental principle, and all irrelevant matter 
would fall away. 

Her face, though thoughtful and dreamy, revealed 
great inward ioy, and it would light up with an in- 
effable smile of happiness when conversing with mem- 
bers of the familv or intimate friends. 

In late September, when the progress of the siibtle 
disease, which was so soon to take her from us, had 
greatly reduced her strength, the following conversa- 
tion with her father showed how great was her inward 
joy : 

Carolyn — "Father, do you ever feel so happy that 
you can't help laughing out loudt" 

Father — ''Xot ver\' often, Carol, dear." 

Carolyn — "I feel that way most of the time, es- 
pecially up here on the farms." 

As we think of her now, Carolyn was the happiest 
individual v;e have ever known. As Tames Lane 
Allen writes of Elizabeth in his **EX"»ctor's Christmas 
Eve," so we may say of Carolyn : 


"Xo psyche winging the wide plain ever went more 
surely to its needed blossom, disregarding otherwise 
the crowded acres. And when her tired eyes were 
closed * * * they were opened upon an inner 
world as enchanting. For with that gift which be- 
longs to childhood and to genius alone, as the real 
things of life which she had loved disappeared, she 
caught them alive and transferred them to another 
land. There also she kept all the other beautiful 
things that had never been real on the Earth, but 
ought to have been real, as she insisted ; and on these 
Elysian Fields her spirit went to play. She was 
already old enough to realize that she was constantly 
outgrowing things ; but as they were borne backward 
into the distance she turned and laid lier fingers on 
her lips in farew'ell to them — little Niobe of unshed 
tears over life's changes. Her soul seemed to be 
this that she could not turn against anything she once 
had loved, nor cease to be loyal to it after it was 
ruined or gone. As the swallow remembers the eves 
whether the skies be bright or dark the nature of 
[Carolyn] sheltered itself under the old world's roof 
of love." 












Some of Carol's prose compositions give pleasant 
glimpses into the inner cliambers of her rare young 
Mind and Soul. Here is one called: 

Picking Wild Flowers. 

One day, early in the Spring, when the snow was still on 
the ground in some places, my sister and I went to the lake, 
which was nearby, to gather some wild flowers. 

We found trailing arbutus and anemones. Both of our 
baskets were filled. We liked the trailing arbutus best, be- 
cause we found it under the leaves, even where the snow 
still lingered, and because it is the most fragrant of all. 
We carried them back to the farmhouse, where they were put 
in vases, and made the house look very pretty. 

Another time we found bloodroot, and beautiful large, 
white violets ; but that was later in the season, when most of 
the plants and trees were out. The white violets remind me 
of the calves, holding their noses in the air because they 
have so much curiosity. 

A pretty picture of our New Hampshire coimtry is 


I think Summer is the best time of the year in the countr>', 
especially where the cows can graze in peace by the river's 
bank, or wade up to their knees in the cool water. The trees 
are very beautiful, too, with their heavy green foliage, to 
shade the cattle or horses from the hot rays of the sun, 
while drowsily bni>hing the flies from their bodies 


A really accurate account of the trip to our summer 
home is contained in her: 

Trip to the Mountains. 

It was a cold, clear morning when I started frorm Boston on 
my trip through the mountains to our farm. 

It was in the fall, and all things were putting on their 
winter coats, for it was getting colder every day. The 
horses and cattle and dogs already had their long hair on, and 
the sheep were nothing but fluff balls. I was alone, for my 
friend had left me in the station, to go in another train, as 
she was going to New York, while I was going to New 

Later in the afternoon, I first began to come into the 
hilly country, and things commenced to look natural. 
Everything looked very country-like and beautiful, as the 
leaves on the trees had turned red, gold and yellow, and the 
little farm houses, with their barns and sheds, and the cows 
grazing in the pastures, all made a very beautiful and pleas- 
ant picture. 

As I drew nearer our home village, from the river 
meadows the little town looked like a Swiss hamlet, with its 
church spires, and its snow-capped mountains in the distance. 

At last I arrived at the station, and I drove home, with 
the old horse, between two very beautiful mountains, which 
seemed to rise upward from the road on which I was 


And here Is an Account of something which actually 

occurred : 

A Wood Experience. 

One beautiful spring day, as we were out hunting for 
Moccasin flowers in the moist woods we heard a whir of 
wings, and, looking up, saw a streak of brown dash into a 
neighboring tree, a flurrying and scattering of the leaves at 
our feet; then all was silent again. 

My companion, who knew a little about nature, knew at 
once that we were near a nest of partridges. "Quick!" ex- 
claimed she, "we must find one, and take it home and raise it." 

With that we both started to hunt for the little bird. 
The mother bird was flying about, making queer cries. She 
was trying to get our attention away from the little birds, so 
that we would go away and leave her in peace with her 

But we continued to hunt, and, after some trouble, 
we ait last found one. We put him in a handkerchief and 
carried him home, and were going to bring him up with some 
other little chickens; but he died that night, because wild 
birds cannot live very long in captivity, especially young 

A somewhat longer story is called: 

Pictures in the Fire. 

One night, I was lying on the rug before the fire, at 
mother's and father's feet, in the music room, when I heard 
a little laugh which seemed to come from the fire, I looked 
up quickly to see if mother and father were smiling; but they 
were quietly reading, so I turned back to the fire, thinking it 
must have been the wind which was blowing around the 


Suddenly, to my surprise, a very small fairy flew out of 
the fire, which was burning brightly, and said, in a queer 
voice, "I am the spirit of fire. My queen sent me here to- 
night to bring you into our land for an hour, so you can see 
many wonderful and interesting things. I don't know why my, the queen, should choose you any more than some 
other little girl; but, as she has done so, you mu&t corme, 
Don't you want to?" 

"Oh ! yes," I answered, getting up quickly, "But how shall 
I go, — I cannot fly as you can?" "Dd just as I do, and you 
will be all right," answered the fairy. With that she flew into 
the fire, and I followed slowly, as going into a fire did not 
seem to be a very safe thing for me to do ! 

Suddenly 1 found myself in a small town, with a wall 
of flame about it. There were houses and gardens, which had 
the most beautiful colors, all red and gold and green and 
blue ; it was the most beautiful little town I had ever seen ; 
but everything was so tiny, you could hardly see some things. 

My little fairy guide was showing me everything at 
once, as it seemed to me. Then she looked as though she 
were worried over something, and suddenly a smile lit up her 
face, as she saw a signal flag go up quickly, which said, 
"The queen wants you. Come at once. The girl must go; she 
can come again to-morrow night." *T suppose you will have 
to go," said my guide, and, with a dash I was set flying into 
the air, so fast that I could hardly see the little town which 
I had just left, but I glanced back to have a last look at it, 
and I saw a large cloud of flames rise up from the ground 
an-d trees, where it had been hiding while I was there. 

Then I knew nothing more until I landed on the rug, be- 
fore the fire and heard mother's voice calling me, 'Come to 
bed, child, you have been sleeping. It is after nine o'clock.' 
Of course, I had not been sleeping as father and mother 
thought; they did not see me fly oft' with \he fairy. 

A C O M PLE T E D L 1 E E . 29 

To-morrow night I hope to go again to the town of flames, 
and I shall tell you more about what I see there, in my next 

A characteristic account of a i)hase of her life in 
New Hanipshirc, is entitled : 

Camping Out. 

One very rainy morning, about four o'clock, wc all got ready 
to go down to the lake, where we expected to spend the rest 
of the week. 

We would not have started so early, had it not been for 
the boys, who did not get many chances to fish in the big 
lake on a rainy morning. (When it is raining, the fish always 
come up to bite, and are very easily caught.) We arrived at 
the lake soon, and the boys went off in the canoe, leaving us 
in peace to get breakfast and make the beds. 

Seven o'clock came, and with it three hungry boys, with 
a fine string of fish. We cooked some for breakfast. After 
we had finished breakfast, and cleared up the things, we all 
got into three canoes, and went across the lake, to read, or 
play, or fish in the shadows. 

When we came home for lunch, we saw swimming across 
the lake, a beautiful stag, with large horns ; and, later the 
same day, we saw a wild duck and a mink swimming across 
the lake. No one had been on the lake for a long time, so 
the wild creatures were very tame. All the rest of the week 
was spent seeing and doing many things. We did not want to 
go back to the farm after having such a fine time camping 





And now, let us read some of the characteristic 
passages from the Child's own letters to her father 
and mother and friends. Here is a letter which she 
wrote "To a Friend" which describes a typical episode 
of her life in the mountains : 

My Dear Friend: 

I am writing to tell you about the twenty miles horseback 
ride which we took last week. We started in the morning, 
and took our lunch, which we had packed on the saddles. 
We rode about four miles before we came to the river that 
divides New Hampshire from Vermont, which we crossed on 
the quaintest little flat ferryboat I have ever seen. The river is 
not very wide, but it took about ten minutes to get across, as 
the power was all by hand. 

When we got across, we had to pay toll to a funny old 
farmer; then he let down the rod which was across the road, 
so that we could go on our way. After a while, we came to 
a big woods where there were so many berries, that we 
simply had to stop and pick some. We ate our lunch there, 
by the roadside, and let our horses graze on the little plots 
of grass, so that they would not be too hungry. 

As we went further away from the river, we saw very few 
people. At last we came to a small logging road, which I 
wanted to follow. Accordingly, we left the main road, and 
followed this wood road for a mile or so, and until we came 
to an old broken down farmhouse, which looked as though 
it were haunted. As we were going around it, looking at all 
the buildings, the horses began to snort, and we wondered 
what was the matter with them. All of a sudden, we saw a 
small, black bear run up from the cellar, and come growling 
toward us. The horses were just frantic with fear, and, turn- 


ing about, one raced down the road which we had just come 
up. I suppose the bear had made its lair there, as no cme 
had lived in the house for a long time. 

We had gone about eleven miles, and thought it best to 
start home again, as it was now getting late in the afternoon. 
When we came to the river again, we w^ent over a bridge, 
which was nearly as much fun as the horse-ferry, for we could 
look down fifty feet, or more, and see the waters beneath, and 
hear it roar. We arrived home about seven o'clock, very 
tired after so long a ride, but very happy too. I wish ycm 
had been with us. 

In one of her earliest letters to us, she writes : 

I can ride side saddle fine, now. I took a horseback 
ride with Beth by the sand hill. I left Beth, and went 
across the valley and down a hill. Beth could not find me any 
place ; and I went galloping over the hill, until I came to 
Smith's old house ; there I turned into the raad, and met 
Beth way down by the farm, after the sand hill. It was lots 
of fun. I went down to the Smith's and got a book and 
pocketbook, and then came home. 

In a letter to her father, written somewhat later, 
she writes: 

Mother thinks I can go to Boston with Miss Noyes. I 
went to church, last Sunday, and I like it very much. The 
horses are all right, but "Belle" ran away again, with Harriet ; 
but she stopped pretty soon, and I was riding "Beauty." She 
did not want to go. She put down her head, and tried to 
throw me oflf. I was not ready, so I lost one stirrup; but 


I stayed on, though I thought I was going off for sure; it's 
lots of fun. I can sit to the canter now, and I feel so free. I 
can ride any horse, I think, even a high spirited one. I 
think I had better get ready for bed, now, so good-bye for a 

Another letter written to her father, while making 
a visit, reads : 

Don't you think it is fine that I am staying so long at 
Miss Noyes, I am having a fine time here. Saturday, I 
went with Miss No3es to the bindery, and I saw how they 
bind books. One evening, Miss Noyes and I took our sup- 
per, and went down the river in her brother's launch. The 
sunset was very beautiful, and was reflected in the water. 

Another letter, written while she was visiting Miss 
Noyes, says: 

I think it is fine here. I play with some little girls that 
arc very nice. I am not homesick at all. 1 get enough to 
eat here, and am not sick. At home 1 sometimes do not get 
enough to eat! 

On a postcard, written to her father, from Hill- 
top Farms, she writes: 

Did you get my letter? Briggs, Brother, Jack, and 
Gardiner and I played cowboys. We stopped a horse and 
an auto, and had a ride. Wc made them stop when wc 
wanted to get out. Our faces were all painted, and we scared 
the men ; they did not know us. 


The following is a "Train Letter" to her father: 

Please do not read this letter until after you get to 
Woodsville. I am going to write letters each night, and tell 
you what is going on. Sometimes they will be quite short. 
I am going to ride horseback on "Colonel" and "Belle." Now 
I will close, with much love, from your daughter. 

The winter of 1908 and 1909, we kept our country 
house open, and we were all there most of the tinie. 
The following letters were written to us during the 
short intervals when we were away from the farms. 
The first one dc^^cribes a Hallowe'en Party: 

Dearest Father: 

Last night was Hallowe'en, and we had a party. The 
Pringle children came over and had supper %vith us. Our sup- 
per was very nice. At each place there was a place card, 
and a string attached to a card ; the other end had a little 
chocolate mouse. Miss Wehrly got a lemon in.stead of a 
chocolate mouse. Mother and Miss Davison got peanuts 
and chestnuts. 

We had two big pumpkins, one on the dining table, and 
the other on a big ghost in the hall. We toasted Marshmal- 
low-s, and roasted pop corn, had a peanut hunt, and told 

Last wtek I worked with the men on the field below^ the 
red barn. Ihe men are clearing the stones from it. Briggs 
made a little stone-drag, and I hitched '"Colonel*' to it, and 
dragged stone like the men. 

Yesterday, I brought in the horses that were in the crag 


pasture, because it was so cold, and snorwing hard. Much 
love, from your daughter, Carolyn. 

P. S. — Have the note paper very small. 

Another to her father: 

The note paper you sent me is perfectly Hue. and I thank 
you very, very much. I have a little table upstairs, in my 
room, which I write on^ The note paper makes it look very 

I don't feed the horses now, I don't know why. Ephraim 
has been doing it, — so I think mother told him to. Yesterday I 
went to the village to get the mail. I rode **Belle." In the vil- 
lage I saw two dead deer, one was big, with horns, and the 
other a small one. 

Father, I hope you are not getting all sick and tired. I 
will be glad when you can come up here again, to rest. You 
do not need to answer this letter if you are tired. 

Still another to her father: 

The snow is now six inches deep, and it makes the trees 
look very beautiful, because the snow is on all the branches. 
Mr. Pringle has "Belle" out in the sleigh. It is fine sleigh- 

I shall be glad when you and Beth and Wilson come home. 
We will have a fine time on Thanksgiving and Christmas, — • 
won't we? I liave written to Beth, Wilson, Polly, and Jack, 
besidts this one to you, so I will not have to answ-er any 
more till next Sunday. 

Mr. Neal came yesterday, and took "Beauty" home to his 
house, so I have only fouy horses to take care of now. Good- 


On January nth, 1909, she wrote as follows, to her 
father and mother, describing a January thaw : 

It is raining up here now, and there is hardly any snow 
on the ground. I went to the village this morning, to take 
Mrs. C. and E. to the station, for they were going home for 
a visit. Miss D. and I cooked, and set the table. 

I have been reading quite a lot since you went down. 
I have read "Robinson Crusoe," "The Wind in the Willow," 
and some of the set you gave me. Everything is all right, 
so I have not much to say. With much love, from your 
daughter, Carol. 

February 6th, 1909. 
Dear Mother and Father: 

Thank you very much for those pictures you sent mc. 
Are they all for me? This letter I am sending with mine, 
mother, because I thought you would like it now: it says on 
It to "return in five days." I went over to get Minnie to-day. 
She stayed all night at her uncle's, because her aunt is very 
sick. I took "Belle" in the cutter. I hope you had a nice time 
in Boston, with Beth and Wilson. 

A man came out here to buy a corvv, (one of the heifers), 
but he did not. I suppose he thought they were all too small. 
Well, I have told you all the news up here, so I will close. 
From your affectionate daughter, Carolyn. 

P. S. — It is a very bad day for colds, so I am trying to 
keep dry, mother." 

N. B. — Mother, this other letter is all the mail that came 
for you. C.S.A. 


February 7th, 19 10. 
Dearest Mother: 

Last night it got very cold and windy, and everything is 
frozen up again. Brother and Briggs have their steers out 
now ; but I am not going out this morning, Ever>'thing is 
all right up here. 

.The following letter to her mother describes her 

daily life on the farms dttring this winter and evinces 

her love for domestic work: 

Februar)' 15th, 1909. 
Dear Mother: 

I am going down to the village this afternoon, to get 
Minnie, and I will take "Belle." All the horses are ver>' frisky 
now. If you give "Belle'' a chance she will run away, and 
"Colonel" is nii'ful. I have a hard time getting him under 
control. Now we have only "Belle" and "Madge" in this barn, 
for "Colonel" is taking the children down to school every day. 
1 am having lots of fun. 

Every morning I get up at seven o'clock, and come down 
and help Miss D, with breakfast, and set the table. Afrer we 
have eaten, I help her clear the table off. and then I go down 
to the barn, for an hour or so, to help the men do the 

When I come back. Miss D. is ready for me to help her 
with the dishes; then we go up stairs and make the beds, 
which is very easy to do because two people can do it very 
well. After that, my work is done for the morning, and I go 
out doors again. I help Miss D, set the table for dinner, 
and feed the horses. After dinner, brother and I have lessons 
with Miss D. Briggs gives us some more lessons at night. 
I like to do this kind of work, especially with Miss D, ; but 
when Minnie is here, I only have to help her make the beds 


Carol was never so happy as when she felt she was 
of some actual use, assisting, as she could, in the care 
of the horses and pets, or helping in the domestic work 
of the house. She particularly enjoyed learning to 
cook, and took great delight in serving at the table, 
when, from absence or illness, we were without one of 
our maids for a time. The following letters show 
how much she enjoyed the opportunity for practical 
house-work which occurred during this happy winter 
on the farms. She was a most competent little house- 

February i6th, 1909. 
Deakest Mother; 

It has been snowing here to-night, and to-day it snowed 
so hard that we could not see the hills of Vermont. It is 
like a big cloud all round an island. Minnie came home with 
me yesterday afternoon ; then it was raining, and I thought 
it would melt away all the snow on the ground ; but it began 
to snow before the rain could do anj' harm. 

I suppose you are having a nice time in Montclair, but 
I don't think as fine as I am having here. Yesterday I took 
down to M.'s aunt, who is very poor, a basket of pota- 
toes and a pail of milk. 71iose poor children had not had 
anything to eat for a day, and they are very young, under 
eight years. I cannot eat three meals a day whi^e some other 
one is nearly starving. The father is ten miles away, trying 
to get work, and they have only one horse, and no cow^, and 
have to carry all their water. Affectionately, Carolyn, 

P. S. — I enclose a postal for father, which came in the 
mail up here. 

N. B. — I wish I could do more for poor people, which^ 
are a great many 


February 17th. I9<:>9. 
Dearest Father: 

The snow is now two feet deep, because it snowed some 
more last night. How is it in Montclair' 

Briggs has had the toothache since the last three nights, 
and has been awful cross. The dentist said he could not do 
anything for it because he had a cold in it. In the mornings 
there is great confusion, — Briggs cannot find his hat or his 
clothes or anything, and blames someone else for taking it 
away ! 

Yesterday the roads were so bad that the school let out 
all the children at noon, and they came home. Brother and 
1 went over to the Pringle's in the afternoon. Yesterday I 
hitched "Belle" up to the little iron roller, and made paths all 
around from the house, to the mail box, and to the barns. 
With much love, your daughter, Carolyn. 

P. S. — I got lots of Valentines here, seven altogether, and 
1 know who most of them came from. 

The following letter contains a sug"g"e>tion of 
Carol's love for wood-craft, and her knowledge of it : 

February 19th. IQ09. 
Dearest F.\tiier and Mother: 

Many happy returns of your birthday, father, and I hope 
ymi and mother will have a nice time together on the day. 
I thank you very mucli for the Valentine which you sent me. 
and I think the little baby was very cute. 

Miss D. and I went to the village this morning, and we 
got lots of things at the grocery store, so as to last for a long 
time. I went down again this afternoon, to take Minnie home, 
and have to go to-morrow to take Briggs to the station, as 
he is going to Lancaster. Sunday morning I shall take Miss 
D to church, if the weather is all right, and Monday I have 


to go to the village again to bring Briggs home. I shall be 
going to the village quite a lot, don't you think so? 

Last week I forgot to tell you, I saw a fox; it was not 
a very big one, but it had a beautiful tail. There is a big 
one over at the farm, which Mr. Pringle has been trying to 
kill for the last week. One time this week brother and I 
were up by the little farm, cutting down trees, and we came 
across a track like this (sketch), I think it was a rabbit's 
track, because the hind feet are always closer together than 
the front feet. I saw another track close by, like this 
(sketch), so that I think it was a fox chasing a rabbit. 

Ever so many kisses and love from your loving daughter. 

Februarj' 21st, 1909. 
Dearest Mother and Father: 

I wish you would both eat some of my cake and see if it 
is not pretty good. 

Miss Carolyn Adams made her first cake on February 20th, 
1909, at half past one o'clock, it was done at two o'clock. 
She was twelve years old, and no one helped her but the 
lady of the house, and she did not do much. 

I helped with breakfast this morning, too, and made some 
scrambled eggs and puffed rice, and I am going to get sup- 
per to-night. I think it is lots of fun to cook nice things. 
Miss D. said she would make a little apron for me if 1 
bought the cloth. Then I am going to learn to cook lots of 
things like corn bread and salt pork and coffee, and all kinds 
of nice things like that, so when I go camping next summer, 
I can cook something to eat. 

Father, 1 hope you will have a happy birthday. T wil^ 
close now, as there is nothing more to write, 

P. S. — Did you get the letter Monday? 

N B^ — Everyone is well, and it is very cold here 


February 22nd, 1909. 
Dearest Mother: 

Your letter of Friday came this morning, and I went in 
to get it, as it was a holiday, and Mr. Burley (the postman), 
did not come to-day. I brought Briggs home from the sta- 
tion. I am very glad you like my letters, because I take great 
comfort in writing them. 

The Pringle children came over this afternoon, and we 
had a card party. We played cards for quite a time, and 
then popped corn and made candy. They did not have to go 
to school because it was Washington's Birthday, and Miss D. 
said we could have a nice time. We had lots of fun, and I 
took them home with "Colonel," because he needed driving. 
'"Colonel" is now so frisky that it is hard to hold him I send 
some letters for father with this letter 

February 24th, 1909. 
Dearest Mother: 

It has been raining again, and is not very cold. This 
morning I did not go out doors, but, in the afternoon, brother 
and I took the chicken feed down to them, and we played in 
the barn for a while. Did you know that we are getting four 
eggs a day, and sometimes six eggs, from our hens? It 
seems very much, because we have been getting only one or 
two eggs a day all winter. 

February 25th, 1909. 
Dearest Father: 

It has been blowing verj' hard all day and is awful cold. 
Everyone felt the cold more to-day than any other one this 
winter. This morning I went over to the other farm, and 
when I went around the road which we children call "Cape 
Horn," I was nearly blown nH "Belle" who T wa^ riding. 


I got that fine calendar to-day and thank you very much 
for sending it to me. I am going to cut out the picture of 
the cow girl, and put it in a frame. 

It is awful cozy here to-night. There is a tire burning 
on the hearth, and the wind is howling outside. I love lo 5it 
curled up on a big chair, telling stories, on this kind of a 
night I wish you and mother were here, too. 

February 27th, IQ09. 

It has been very cold here, this last three days, since 
that windy day. Brother and I went down to the village yes- 
terday morning, and we nearly got frozen coming home. 
Gladys i.s very sick, with a sore throat, so we cannot play 
with her. 

March 5th, 1909. 

My room is perfectly beautiful with the new paper, and 
Miss D. cleaned and put up the pictures in good order, and 
changed the furniture and put it in different places. I stayed 
in all the morning helping Miss D. with the house cleaning. 

When you come up I would like you to help me pick out 
some pretty picture frames for my "Peter Pan" pictures. I 
never took an interest in my room before, but. since the new 
wallpaper has been put on. I have tried to make my room 
pretty, and am going to du?t and clean it every morning. 

It snowed all this morning, about a foot altogether, and 
is very cold, too. I went down to the village this afternoon, 
to get meat and some other things, and my hands got very 
cold coming home. As I could not drive very well, and as 
no one was with me to drive, I put the reins on the dashr 
board. and made "Colonel" go and stop by my voice, and so got 
home without freezing my hands. "Colonel'* minded me fine. 


' I made a small cake this morning, and, this time. Miss D. 
was not even in the kitchen. Gladys has been very sick, and 
is now mending. I took her, yesterday, some nice stories to 
read, and Miss D. sent her over some broth and some fruit 
and a glass of jelly. I went on horseback. I must close now, 
as it is time for lessons, so good-bye. D., the housekeeper, writing from the farm 
about this time, says: 

Carol is very happy orver her pretty room, it does look 
lovely. The paper changes it so much. She wanted her 
furniture changed, so 1 did it for her. I have had the paint 
cleaned, and washed the windows, so it is nice and clean. 

Carol is getting to be quite a cake maker. She made 
another one to-day, which was very nice indeed. 

March 8th, 1909. 
Dearest Mother and Father: 

If you and Beth and Wilson are coming up for the Easter 
vacation, that means that we children can stay here for sugar- 
ing ; and I hope so, because I have not been here then for 
quite a number of years, and have almost forgotten how to 
make maple sugar. 

We are having a beautiful sunset to-night, and I am the 
only one to see it, as Miss D. is in the kitchen, and the boys 
are out in the barn. I am in the sitting-room writing this, so 
I cm see it very well. 

I have never seen "Colonel" go so fast as he did coming 
home this afternoon. It was almost like flying, he went so 
fast. Gladys is almost well, and can play outdoors again. 
With much love, from your daughter, Carol. 

P. S. — Two books came to me from you, and I thank 
ycfu very much One is zery interesting 


March 9th, 1909. 
Dearest Father: 

I am saving all the money I get to buy some pretty picture 
frames for my "Peter Pan" pictures. I have two dollars now, 
and when I get another dollar, I think it will be enough to 
buy them. 

Yesterday and to-day I went over to the other farm, to 
see Gladys, on "Belle." I just love to dash around on horse- 
back, carrying messages from one farm to the other. I always 
ride horseback on "Belle," and use "Colonel" for driving. I 
took Minnie home with him yesterday and to-day, and he 
always goes awful fast coming home, because it is just be- 
fore supper and he is hungry. 

I cannot think of anything more to write, so will close. 
Your loving daughter. 

March loth, 190Q. 
Dearest Mother : 

Your nice, long letter came this noon, and I was very 
glad to get it. My allowance came all right, so now I have 
three dollars which I am going to spend for picture frames 
when you come home. 

Gladys is all well now% for she went to school to-day. It 
has been raining again, and is very cold, so that it made a 
crust, and to-morrow we will have fine coasting. I have 
seen some crows this last week, so spring will soon be here ; 
and yesterday, when I was up in the crag pasture, by the4)ig 
pines, I heard a bird sing, — it seemed as if the bird was sing- 
ing, "Spring soon," "Spring soon." 

I have been riding horseback a good deal, lately, on 


March 14th, 1909. 

It is very cold now, and everything is ice. I got some 
creepers, which are the things you put on your heels to keep 
you from slipping. Yesterday I had the Pringles over, and 
we had a fine time playing. Miss D. made some candy, which 
I think the boys had too much of; that is the reason they did 
not feel so well to-day. 

March i6th, 1909. 
Dearest Mother: 

Everyone is well and happy, and I hope you are. Will 
Harris came out with Briggs yesterday, and is going to stay 
until Monday. The Pringle children are coming over this 
afternoon, and we are going to coast. Miss D. is going to 
give us a little tea. Mother, I am getting very fat and heavy. 
I used to weigh seventy-four pounds, and now I weigh eighty- 
five pounds with my coat off. I must be eating too much. 

March 17th, 1909. 
Dearest Mother and Father: 

It is snowing this morning quite hard, and Mr. Pringle 
is very mad, because we were going to sugar pretty soon, and 
now the snow will be so deep that it will be very hard to 
make roads through it to the woods, as there are two feet of 
snow on the ground, beside a very thick crust under the top 
layer of snow, and it is not quite strong enough to hold the 
horses up, and they cut their feet badly when they go through. 

I took a fine ride on "Belle" yesterday, from one farm to 
the other, and I just raced. "Belle" was feeling so good. I 
don't know wdiat is the matter with me I am in such good 
spirits. I feel like racing around with the horses all the 
time. I am afraid poor "Belle" gets more exercise than she 


should, and it seems as if I could not go slow when i am on 

I must close now, as it is breakfast time. Good-bye. 

P. S. — I am writing this before breakfast. 

March 19th, ipog. 
Dearest Feather and Mother: 

Yesterday the wind blew very hard, and the roads arc very 
deep with snow in some places, and there are big drifts. 
Only a week from to-day you will get up here. I am so glad. 
Can I go down to the station to meet you, if you come in the 
afternoon ? 

We all gathered at the Farms for "sugaring," and 
Carolyn was very happy. She seemed then to be the 
Incarnation of joy and health. There was sufficient 
snow left to make very good sleighing and we had 
happy straw rides altogether in the evenings, by moon- 
light. There were coasting parties, by day, and long 
tramps on snow shoes through the woods. We also 
rode horseback a good deal together on tlTfe snowy 
roads ; and, of course, spent much time in the sugar 
camp making maple syrup and sugar. One day we 
had a "sugaring off" party, to which a number of local 
friends and neighbors were invited. Beth and Wilson 
had brought home some of their school friends, so we 
had a merry house party of young people for tlie 
spring vacation. All of which dear Carol enjoyed 
verv much. 


During the summer of 1909, which we spent abroad, 
Carol's life was so full with all her interests on the 
farms, that she did not seem able to find time to write 
us very often. The following letter was Avritten to 
us from Hilltop Farms, July 8th. 1909, and sent to us 
in England : 

On the fifth of July the boys and I went dorun to the 
village. I was with the the Pringles most of the time, be- 
cause they wanted me, and the boys didn't. Wilson won the 
Marathon race. Please excuse this writing, for brother has 
my pen, and I can't write with this one. 

I had lots of fun, we took our lunch. The horse race 
was fine. Tell father that "Xed G>le" was there, and beat 
ever>' horse in his class. There were two stallions there, 
too, a black one and a bay. Part of the time I went over 
where the barns were, and saw the horses bathed and treated, 
and had lots of fun. I am now placing that "Belle" is a race 
horse, and I fix her up like race horses, after she has had a 
hard drive. I bought a nice sponge, and am going to give 
her a bath. 

The following letter, dated August 26th. 19 10. was 
written to her father while he was absent in Xew 
York, and is the last letter he received from his 
precious daughter: 

I hope you are not getting too tired working, and that 
you will soon come back to the farm. 

Yesterda)-, mother and Wilson and I went to the Mount 
Washington Hotel with auntie. Wilson went to see about 
tutoring, and I went for the pleasure. I have never had such 


a good hotel lunch before, except in New York. In the morn- 
ing, Wilson and I went in swimming in the pool, which was 
fine ; and in the afternoon, we listened to the music, and I 
watched all the fine saddle horses come and go. The next 
time I come up here I am going to bring my riding suit, and 
go on a ride, and some time I should like to go down to the 
stables where they keep the horses. 

Last night mother and I taok Delia down to the Dutch 
Fete, which the people of Littleton were giving for the hos- 
pital. There were long tables for everybody to eat from, and 
it was fine, as there was Dutch cheese and Dutch salad, and 
cofifee and tea and cocoa, and buns and ice cream and cake, 
and Dutch doughnuts. Mather said the coffee was fine, and 
the cocoa was great. 

All the waitresses were dressed up in gaudy colors, like 
Dutch girls, with caps on, and they looked fine. Then there 
was a fortune teller who said I was going to marry when I 
was eighteen and a half years old, — I guess not, — but most of 
the girls want to, so she thought I would, too. They all say 
what you want them to. She said I was very kind hearted, 
and fond of music, and lots of other crazy things which was 
piles of fun. I could hardly keep from laughing, but of 
course, I did not, for she would have been mortally offended. 
Well I nmst close now, so good-bye, dearest father. Lovingly, 

P. S. — Wilson and I took a long horseback ride together 




A C O M P L E 7 E D LIFE. 4q 


It would be impossible to compass within these pages 
all of the letters, in their fulness, which we have re- 
ceived, and which we continue to receive, about our 
precious Child. But we copy for loving eyes char- 
acteristic passages from enough of them, perhaps, to 
suggest how she was held in love and admiration by 
those who knew her. 

A very dear schoolmate, perhaps her most intimate 
child- friend, wrote her as follows in girlish enthusiasm, 
the letter wdiich came too late for Carol's earthly eyes 
to see: 

Dearest Carol: 

I think you arc perfect, and I don't care what anyone else 
thinks. That is a very good quality, and very few people 
have it, — when people ask you for your opinion on a certain 
subject, to tell them exactly what you think. Most people 
change their ideas or say nothing, simply because they arc 
afraid the people will not like them so much. I do not mean 
that you say all the horrid things about a person that you 
can, even though they are true but you merely give all that 
is necessar}', and say what you think. You also never repeat 
what is said to you, which is another excellent quality. 


Another dear child ended her letter with this 
acrostic : 

M C 

A A 

M A R 1 E to CAROL 

I O 

E L 

Carol. I love to write your name. Carol, it reminds me 
of you, and I love the name. 

An intimate child friend wrote to us : 

I want you to know how much I love Carol. My happiest 
memories of her are the rides we had together last year. I 
always felt that I knew her better when we were on horse- 
back together. 

"Carol always seemed to me to be a little above everyone 
in some ways,'' writes one of her schoolmates, "and I always 
respected her, and 1 know all those in her class did. There 
is a great vacancy in our class now, for she made everyone 
draw towards her. Besides being quiet and sweet, she was 
full of fun and mischief, and we all loved it in her, too. Her 
school spirit was lovely, and she interested herself in every- 
thing. I used to look forward to the time, after school, when 
we would walk home together, and have a pleasant talk. It 
seems as though I miss her more than anyone else, for she 
was very, very dear to me. Please accept my sympathy, even 
if I am only a little girl, and please remember that I thought 
a great, great deal of Carol." 


One of Iier sister's intimate friends who knew Carol 
well, writes as follows : 

She was such a rare child, and everyone who came in 
touch with her beautiful personality became so attached to 
her. I shall always remember her unusual lovely manner of 
reserve and dignity, and her many sweet ways. Her passing 
will be a great loss to us all, and to everyone who knew her, — 
and to know her meant to love her. I shall miss her hun- 
dreds of times, and in a thousand ways. 

"Somehow, although I had not learned to know Carol very 
well, 1 feel as though I had lost a loving, brave little friend; 
but I wonder if some of us are not better for having looked 
into her big eyes and her thoughtful face," writes another 
intimate friend oi her sister 

"Through many years to come we shall all love and 
cherish the sweet and happy memory that dear little Carol has 
left us, and I truly think that many of us are better for hav- 
ing known her brave and happy self," writes a schoolmate 
of her sister. 

"I want to tell you how much I loved her. It was not 
often that I saw her, but one day, at dancing class, I found 
her watching, and we had such a nice talk together," writes 
still another of her sister's friends. 

A friend of her sister, who had visited us at Hilltop 
Farms, last summer, writes: 

It seems perfectly remarkable to me that a child of 
Carol's age could leave such an indelible impression, as she 


made on me, and that because of her wonderful personality. 
I really feel as if I had lost a friend, for I grew to be so 
fond of her in that short week. 

Another dear friend of Bcth's, with unusual com- 
prehension of Carol's nature, wrote of her as follows : 

I shall always remember her as I last saw her at Littleton, 
and, as Maeterlinck says, "How can they be dead when they 
live in our memory?" * * * i don't know any child whom 
I have ever admired more, and I can't seem to realize that 
such a lovely soul has passed away. With her wonderful 
power of reserve and dignity, mingled with such love and 
sweetness, Carol was a rare creature. 

"I never expressed my feeling to anybody, even to Carol," 
wrote her brother, from college; "but she lcuczi\ and our 
understanding was perfect. You ought to liave been on some 
of those rides which I took with her this summer, when she 
did the talking, and I listened. I was awed by some of the 
things which she said and understood. She was nearer to 
heaven than any of us. And God only knows what the 
memory of those rides means to me." 

One of her older brother's friends writes : 

During the years I have known her, I have come to think 
of her as a little sister of mine, rather than only as a dear 
friend, and it is this that brings home to me more keenly the 
feeling of loss that has possessed me ever since I have learned 
the sad news from Briggs. 


Another of her older brother's friends writes : 

She was the best little friend I had, and I feel as though 
a sister of mine had been taken. But there is no use in my 
trying to write very much to tell yoU how it has aflfected me,— 
you all know how I loved your little girl, and must ap 
preciate what a loss it is to me. 

Still another friend of Wilson's writes: 

I cannot really say much to you about her; but she was 
a wonder ; so modest, so bright, so sweet-tempered. She 
loved Hilltop and everything about it so much, that you must 
feel that no child ever enjoyed her girlhood more than Carol 
did hers. Her love for the horses made them her com- 
panions there, — companions with whom she shared the day. 
Was any child ever happier or more contented than Carol ; what 
she would have been if she had been spared, we can know from 
her character. Her life has been a les.son to us all. I shall 
always remember the fun we had together, and just now 1 
cannot realize that it is all over. 

One of her teachers writes : 

The news of our loss came as a great shock to all of 
Carol's classmates and teachers, and we have a strong desire 
that you may know in what warm affection and love she was 
held. You only can know how much we shall miss her, and 
how her memory shall ever be kept precious and dear. 

Another teacher writes : 

At school we shall miss Carol more and more as the 
<lays go by, for her place is not one that will be easily nlleii 


She was one of the sweetest girls I have ever known, and 
her influence, so strong and wholesome, will ever be with us. 

A cousin from Porto Rico writes : 

Carolyn was such a dear, gentle, lovable, child. I was ill 
with fever when the news came, and rather weak, at the time. 
At times of bodily weakness I think one's higher insight is 
keener. As I lay in my hammock, thinking of you all, and feel- 
ing very sorry for you, I suddenly felt a great joy for the 
child; I remembered her gentleness and affectionate ways, and 
the world seemed a cruel place for such as she. I thought 
of her as a bird that fretted against the bars of its cage. The 
door had been opened at last, and it felt a great joy and 
freedom in flying and singing outside the cage. But I can- 
not imagine her going far from her Icn'ed ones. Such an af- 
fectionate nature would long to be near its own. I believe 
she is nearer now, and capable of helping you all, more than 
if she had lived on here. 

Another dear cousin writes, from London : 

There is so little to say of comfort to you excepting the 
glorious joy that Carol is now free and where all is harmonious, 
and where there is not the constant adjustment of outward con- 
ditions to try such a sensitive and lovely soul. How lovely it 
has been that you could give Carol all the joys of that great 
farm to live on, — and lovely to look back and see how you 
could supply so much that made her happy ; and to look into 
the future, and kfio7i.' that the promise of fulfilling all the 
dear companionship is made. To wait is so hard, but she is 
safe and happy and radiant. 



"The life of the dear one was a Benediction. I cannot 
realize that her span of life, so beautiful, so dutiful, so sweet 
and charming, has ended," writes a dear uncle. 

A former teacher who has ahvavs been a dear friend 
of the entire household, writes: 

The dear child of such wonderful promise, has been 
taken where she will fulfill that promise better than here. 
* ♦ * It has been six years, I think, since I saw her, and 
I shall never forget her beautiful face, and her intense love 
of the world and of animals. At this moment I recall her as 
riding after dark. Do you remember that she sat with her 
father and me, and how often, in the ride, she addressed him 
as "Father," speaking with such distinctness, before asking him 
the meamng of the darkness and of the objects dimly visible, 
and what the stars meant? I am sure that you must be ask- 
ing almost the same questions now. [We are!] 

Another dear teacher of Carol's who was her 
intimate friend and companion, as well, and who had 
not seen her for several years, writes, on receiving her 
latest photograph : 

Of course, she has grown much since then, but she will 
always be a dear little girl to me, — the sweetest that ever 
lived. I have been thinking what a mere chance brought me 
in touch with you, and you will never know how much you 
have been to me. Knowing Carol I count as one of the rarest 
privileges of my whole life. Just think how easily I might 
have missed it all. 


The faithful trained nurse who attended her in her 
last illness, writes: 

I cannot say the word "death"; but I always think of 
"Dawn" in connection with Carol. 

Another devoted attendant of Carol's, writes : 

She was my comfort and friend, and I am nearly heart- 
broken to think that she is gone. The letter she wrote me 
when at the farms, her picture, and the other little things 
which she gave me at odd times, which remind me of the 
happy times we spent together, I shall value very much. The 
"Star Song" Miss Carol wrote in bed one evening, from 
memory, while I was with her. The memory of her will 
always remain sweet to me, for I know how beautiful your 
daughter was. 

"The memory of her babyhood is still fresh with me. How 
hard she was to win then, and, when you did get her affec- 
tion, how dear she was \" writes one who had been her 
governess when she was a young child. 

A faithful helper in the life of the farm: 

Carol was such a rare child, and so lovely, I shall 
always remember what a nice time we had together in the 
spring, when she was at Hilltop. 


Another writes: 

It seemed so sweet to me that darkness and gloom did 
not shadow her parting, any more than it did her life. Her 
fourteen happy years will be a precious memory to you all. 

A very dear older friend, whom Carol had been visit 
ing, writes as follows: 

I shall never forget how we all loved her while she was 
here for that little visit, and how desolate I was for a long 
time after she went. Her sweet, low voice, and quiet loving 
welcome, when I came home tired at night, just soothed me 
as nothing and nobody else could. I shall never forget how 
I wandered aimlessly about Boston, after putting her on the 
train. ♦ ♦ * A few days with her did more than great 
preachers have done for she was a living example. I know 
one person who will always be better for having known her. 
"And a little child shall lead them," is the phrase that keeps 
coming to my mind. We shall have the strength to follow in 
her footsteps. I cannot help wishing that more knew her a?i 
we did. The anguish at parting is a very small price, — great 
as it seems, — to pay for such a blessing. 

Another older friend writes : 

Carol seemed to be such an unusual child, always. De- 
veloped beyond her years in judgment and force of character, 
and abundantly endowed with many of the most forceful 
characteristics of both her mother and you, she has brought 
a world of happiness into the world, and her influence will 
last how long, — who knows? No one can limit it 


The same friend writes, later: 

How superb her horsemanship was, and how easily she 
used to maike '"Ned" (the donkey) obey, when no one else could 
manage him. Her keen wisdom, her telling little Lincoln that 
he could not jump off the roof of the house without getting 
hurt, but that she could ! 

A former farm manager, and his wife, w^ho were 
particularly devoted to Carol, wrote us as follows: 

If anything could have caused us especial pain, it was 
the news of this bereavement. How we revered your dear 
child! Affectionate, lively, and intelligent, and ever display- 
ing a thoughtfulness far beyond her years. 

Another dear friend writes: 

She had such a look of spirituality that she always re- 
minded me of a better world. The thought in one of Mr. 
Adams' verses comes to me, — "We suffer as we love," — and I 
know that your pain is the keener because your love for her 
has been so deep, so true and so unselfish. You will find com- 
fort in the happy memories of the companionship with a life 
so rare. 

"It was not strange that such a flower was transplanted 
into God's heavenly garden, — she was fit from the beginning 
for early flowering, and even in the sudden call, which meant 
that promise was hers, you have most nobly shown us all that 
she has left a fragrance and a memory that you dared not, 
that you cared not to injure by the rough touch of sorrow," 
writes two very dear married friends of her father and 


**AI1 the week," writes cme of her mothers friends, "I 
have fotmd my tiio^^iti return to the beautiful life which was 
a blessing in your home and which brought its message to 
me in your sorrow as a Benediction and a help for daily 
living. Her gift to me was a sense of nearness to those she 
loved, and to the loving Fa'her." 

Another friend of her mother's writes: 

I met that little daughter of yours one night at Mrs. M*5, 
when we had dinner there together, and she told me then 
how very much ahe loved your home at Hilltop Farm?. My 
thoughts of you, at this time, are of the tenderest, and I know 
you will only be glad to know of one more who has sweet 
memories of your child. 

Another old, intimate friend writer : 

I have looked at the baby picture of CarohTi^ taken years 
ago, and read again the poem* which indicates that even at 
so young an age she had rare qualities. It seemed fitting that 
if she must pass out of your loving and protective care, she 
should go at "Dawn,"' just getting a gflimpse, as it were, of 
the glorj- which should be revealed to her, of the larger life, 
of its service, and of the eternal youth which would welcome 
her to its circle. 

*"To Baby Carol," page 6. 

The mother of one of Carol's intimate child friends 
writes • 


To those of us who knew and loved dear little Carolyn. 
and have counted her among the chosen friends of our own 
children, her loss comes as a ver>' personal one. and brings 
your larger grief ver>' close to us all."" 

Another devoted nx>tiier writes: 

I cannot realize, somehow, that dear Carol has died, 
She had such wonderful power of reserve and dignity, mingied 
with so much sweetness, and I was so fond of her. 

"Dear little girl, her sunny and unselfish nature has en- 
deared itself to nie, and from her I have learned many a les- 
son in kindness and gencleness," is the testimony of another 
of her older friends 

"That the life of such a rare child should be taken from 
this world," writes another friend, "Is hard lo understand. 
though she be saved very much of the sorrow of it. She 
goes, as she came, in all purity, — a lesson for both young and 

"Dorothy and I have missed dear Carol so much this 
aatumiik that I must tell you just that we sympathize most 
deeply with you and your household. The shock is so great 
tha: we cannot realize it, but we are so glad to have known 
that very beautiful child" " 

"Carol seemed ver>- near to each one of us, and her happy 
and beautiful life will always be a memor\- especially dear ' 


"Brave little Carol showed promise of strength in her 
sensitive face. She has had much joy in her young life, and 
she has slipped away from the suffering which comes with 
years and with experience." H. L. C 

"I know that she is now free to be and do all that was 
desired of her. Living, learning, growing, and rejoicing. 
* * * It is beautiful lo be the mother of an immortal 
spirit." M. W. B. 

"It seems as though she was only loaned to you for a 
while, to make you happy with her unusual loving, sweet 
ways, so unlike other girls of her age." S. W. 

"I shall always picture her in her father's lap, telling him a 
story!" J. B. S. 

"Always, ever since she was a tiny baby, I have loved and 
admired your Carol." E. T. B. 

"Your child's sweet and beautiful life, and the love with 
which her memory will be cherished far beyond your family 
circle, must be very precious to you." A. B. C. 

"Her life will be one of the sacred spots in the life of 
your household, that you will fmd to be a ceaseless source 
of inspiration," I. W. 

"I remember Carol best as a little child of six, filled with 
so much imagination, that I have always thought that some 
day we should know more about her dreams." G. G. 

62 C A ROL y N 

"In the early years of our coming to Llewellyn Road, we 
saw Carol often, and her dear, interesting personality will 
always be a loving memory. Few who knew her will ever 
forget her." M. T. B. 

"I have the tenderest and sweetest recollections of Carol, 
as I saw her in her beautiful home life at Hilltop Farms. 
She and her father were such lovers. She had such pretty 
little ways, and said such quaint things. She impressed me 
then as an unusual child, too sensitive, perhaps, for the 
rough ways that must oft be trodden by little feet, and rude 
blasts that sometimes chill shrinking souls," writes a teacher 
and friend of both her father and mother. 

"As I have said to you. more than once. Carol has always 
seemed to me an unusual child; her individuality was so 
marked, and her strength of character so far beyond her 
years. There was a beautiful simplicity and directness in her 
nature, and a love for the important and really essential things 
of life, that, to me, set her apart from ordinary children. I 
believe everyone who knew her well was as deeply interested 
as I in her development and her future. She liad such un- 
usual promise, and such splendid possibilities,'' wi^ites one 
who knew her and understood her well. [E. L.] 


A dear old-time friend of ours ill looking over 
her file of Bibelots came across the following 
lovely poem which seemed to her, as it seems to us, 
particularly appropriate to Carol and we gladly in- 
clude it in this little book. 


You were a part of the green country 

Of the grey hills and the quiet places; 
They are not the same, the fields and the mountains, 

Without the lost and beloved faces, 
And you were a part of the sweet country. 

There's a road that winds by the foot of the mountains, 
Where I run in my dreams and you come to meet me. 

With your blue eyes and your cheeks' old roses, 
The old fond smile that was quick to greet me. 

They are not the same, the fields and the mountains. 

There is something lost, there is something lonely, 
The birds are singing, the streams are calling. 

The sun's the same and the wind in the meadows, 
But o'er your grave are the shadows falling. 

The soul is missing, and all is lonely. 

It is what they said : you were part of the country, 
You were never afraid of the wind and weather. 

I can hear in dreams the feet of your pony, 
You and your pony coming together. 

You will drive no more through the pleasant country. 

You were a part of the fields and mountains, 
Everyone knew you, everyone loved you ; 

All the world was your friend and neighbor, 
The women smiled and the men approved you. 

They art not the same, the fields and the mountains. 

I sigh no more for the pleasant places, 
The longer I've lost you the more I miss you, 

My heart seeks you in dreams and shadows. 
In dreams I find you, in dreams I kiss you, 

And wake, alas! to the lonely places. 

C ARO LY i\ : A C O M F LEI E I) L 1 E E. f^s 


Carolyn was born into tlie Larger Life at dawn, on 
Tuesday, October fourtb, nineteen ten, at Hilltop 
Farms. Littleton, Xew Hampshire. She liad not been 
looking* or feeling her best for about six weeks be- 
fore, though previous to that she had aj^peared l«> be 
in buo\ant health and spirits, and never had been so 
joyous or joy-giving as she was during the early )>art 
of this summer. She was actually ill only four da}s 
at the last. 

On the Sunday before her passing she seemed so 
much better that we were all greatly encouraged, and 
both her physicians and the two nurses gave us much 
hope for her recovery. This encouraging rally, fol- 
lowing the abatement of her fever and the return to 
complete consciousness, gave us the opportunity for 
a communion of heart and soul which is now of the 
greatest comfort and inspiration for us to remember. 
It was as if the Heavenly b'ather in His love, per- 
mitted the earthly father one more Sunday afternoon 
talk with his darling daughter. Of that last sacred 
communion we cannot speak. The beauty of the 
thoughts expressed, and the ineffable tenderness 
show-n, by Carolyn, are 'beyond the scope of words to 

'>6 C A K O L y N : 

On Monday came the inevitable relapse, with the 
return of rapid pulse, high fever, and semi-conscious- 
ness; and very early Tuesday morning, just as the 
grey light of dawn was breaking over the Autumn- 
clad hills in the east, the tired little heart ceased to 
beat, and our precious child, painlessly and peacefully, 
fell asleep. 

As we went forth into the dusk of the early morn- 
ing, suffocated by our grief, a dear little w'hitethroat, 
the bird which Carolyn loved best of all, tremulously 
sang its plaintive Fall song. It was as if her dear 
Spirit was tenderly bidding us not to grieve, that all 
was well with Her and that She loved us just the 
same. Free from all earthly limitations, dear Carol 
was at last at liberty to Hy! 

I! ) 

ti il 


The last story which Carolyn began to read but 
never finished, was the pathetic account of "Dear 
Annie." by her favorite story writer, Mrs. Mary E; 
Wilkins-Freeman. The first part of the story appeared 
in the Harper s Monthly Magazine, for October, and, 
when she had finished that part, she exclaimed, "I 
can't wait until the next number appears!" The de- 
scription of the gentle and loving Annie fits Carol so 
accurately in part, that we quote it here: (She had) 
"a sweet, eager, intent-to-please outlook upon life. 
This last was the real attitude of Annie's mind ; it 
was, in fact, Annie. She was intent to please from 
her toes to the crown of her brown head. She radi- 
ated good w^ill and loving kindness as fervently as a 
lily in the border radiated perfume." 

And again, Annie's mental and spiritual attitude 
during a thunder storm was singularly like Carol's: 
*Tn reality they were all very nervous in thunder- 
storms, with the exception of Annie. She always sent 
up a little silent petition that her sisters and brother 
and father, and the horse and the dog and cat, might 
escape danger." The happy ending of the story came 
too late for Carol. 

The last completed book which she read was the 
pretty tale of ''Mary Cary," by Kate Wrangley 
Boscher, and she liked it so much that she urged all 
the members of her family to read it ; and. when very 
ill and weak, recommended it, also, to her faithful 
nurse. She was thinking of others, and of their 
pleasure, to the verv last. 

68 C AROLY N : 

On Thursdav we returned with the dear Bodv to 
Montclair, where the funeral services were held at 
Irvingcroft, the day following. 

The Rev. Aniory H. Bradford, D.D. officiated, as- 
sisted by the Rev. Robert Seneca Smith, his associate, 
and the Rev. Henry King Hannah. 

Dr. Bradford began the services with an Inv^xation 
which was particularly beautiful and appropriate to 
the occasion, as it emphasized the joy and blessing of 
association with such a Life as Carolyn's for nearly 
fourteen vears. and crratitude for the memorv which 
will alwavs endure. 

Mr. Smith then read the twenty-third Psalm, (which 
was Carolyn's favorite psalm). 

Ihe Lord is my shepherd ; 
I shall not want. 

lie maketh nie lie down in green pasture? . 

He leadeth me beside the still waters. 

He restoreth my soul : 

He guideth me in the paths of righteousness for his 
name's sake. 

Vea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of 

I will fear no evil ; 

For thou art with me : 

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 

Thou preparest a table before me 

In the presence of mine enemies : 

Thou hast anointed my head with oil; 

My cup runneth over. 
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of 

my life : 
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. 


This was followed Ijy the reading" of appropriate 
selections from the Bible by Mr. Smith, who con- 
cluded his part of the services with the reading of 


When the hours of Day are numbered, 

And the voices of the Xi^^ht 
Wake the better soul, that shimbered, 

To a holy, cahn dehght ; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted. 

And, hke phaiitrfins grim and tall. 
Shadows from the fitful firelight 

Dance upon the parlor wall ; 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more; 

He. the young and strong, who cherished 

Xoble longings for the strife, 
By the roadside fell and perished. 

Weary with the march of lifel 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 

Who the cross of suffering bore, 
Folded their pale hands so meekly, 

Spake with us on earth no more ! 


And with them the Being Beauteous, 
Who unto my youth was given. 

More than all things flse to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes that messenger divine, 

Takes the vacant chair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 

\\ ith those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the star>, so still and saint-like. 
Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended, 
I- the .spirit's voiceles.s prayer. 

Soft rebukes in blessings ended, 
Breathing from her lips of air. 

O. though oft depressed and lonely. 

All my fears are laid aside. 
If I but remrmber only 

Such as these have lived and died ! 


Doctor Bradford then made the following address. 
which showed a rare insight into the character of the 
Child, and was referred to hy many of those present 
as one of the most effective and helpfnl sern-Kons which 
he had ever preached to his people : 

DR. Bradford's address. 

In a peculiar sense this is a family gathering, 
and T am permitted, therefore, to 5peak some- 
what more freely and personally than would 
otherwise seem proper on such an occasion. It 
is a great joy to me that I can speak from per- 
sonal acquaintance and remembrance. '•• As 1 
stand before you to-day, a picture arises in my 
mind. 1 see a little girl of fourteen, beautiful 
as an angel, driving a large horse to his place in 
the barn, and greeted as she goes by her father, 
who says, "Carol, dear, will you feed the horses," 
A little girl at home among all the animals, a 
friend and playmate of all the life of the farm 
is the one who is remembered to-day. I once 
heard Ralph Waldo Emerson speak of a friend 
of his as one who had the greatest love for being 
as 'being of any person whom he had ever known. 
This little girl seemtxl to be in fellowship with 
all being, and everything that had life had a 
fascination for her. She lived in sympathy with 

♦Doctor Bradford had been a griiest at Hilltop Farms dur- 
mg the preceding summer. 



all the flowers, the birds, the cattle, the dogs, the 
cats, and even the lower orders of life. Creatures 
whom others dreaded, she loved. She, to whom 
all persons and creatures turned, has been taken 
from the home in which she was a joy and a 
blessing. We think of her to-day in strange, 
new ways ; but we will not think of her as any 
less alive, or any less active than when she moved 
among us with life and strength and beauty like 
a sunbeam. 


There are a few thoughts to which I will call 
your attention to-day. The first one is the Com- 
pleted Life. We should not think of life as 
being complete at any one time more than an- 
other. x\ career which is i)roperly tinislied is 
completed. Jesus said, in the flush of his young 
manhood, 'T have finished the work which Thou 
hast given me to do," Some of the world's great- 
est and noblest have Hvcd to a venerable age, 
and some, like Keats, have felt the "daisies grow- 
ing over them" when barely a score of years 
have passed. This little girl did a great work. 
Jt was her work, and if she lived a thousand 
\ears it would not have been anv more distinc- 
tive and individual than it was. Of her, as of 
the Master, it could be said — she had finished the 
work which was given her to do. She has left 
behind, in the hearts of those who knew her, the 


memory of a pure, sweet soul, untouched by the 
storms of earth, ready for the suidig-ht and the 
service of the Heavenly land. Life should be 
measured by its quality, and not by its duration. 
Some live long and do nothing; some live but a 
little while and are unknown and yet achieve 
much, because thev fill a few hearts with their 
presence and shed light in places which might 
otherwise be dark. Our little friend completed 
her career before she went home. 


The next thought of which 1 would speak is 
the Reality of the Love-life. Nothing is greater 
than love. Drummond has called it 'The great- 
est thing in the world," and he was right. It is 
not only the greatest, but it is also the most en- 
during. Robert Browning speaks of life as "just 
one chance of learning love." If I were to be 
asked what was the greatest thing that this little 
girl did, I should reply, 'she made the love-life 
more real to a few souls than it could have been 
otherwise ; she has furnished to some the most im- 
pressive lesson in love that they could possibly 
have ; and what greater thing can anyone do ? The 
life of love, like the light of the sun, carries radi- 
ance wherever it goes. The circle of those who 
knew her was small, but she gave to them life's 
greatest oi>portunity and has made them all 
richer, by simply giving them the privilege of 
loving her. 



It is not possible that such a fine and ethereal 
spirit should bt hoklen of death. Peter, in speak- 
ing of our Lord, said, "It was not possible that 
such a man should be holden of death." Is not 
that the feeling w hich we have when we think of 
the gotxl, and the beautiful, and the thousands 
who have done great things in the world? Can 
we believe that such as they go out of being as a 
gas jet is turned out? Here was one who loved 
the trees, flowers, birds and animals, and shed a 
love-light wherever she went. Can you think 
of her as having gone out into nothingness? 
Many questions arise which are difficult for us 
to answer; but, while the brave and good are 
around us, while we are bound to one another by 
the cords of affection, we will not think of death 
as an end. Browning once said, "What God made 
best, cannot end worst." It is not easy for any 
to think of their loved ones as utterly destroyed. 
It is better by far to believe that : 

"The friends whom ye bade on earth good-bye, 

With cheeks so pale and wan ; 
They are there in the Hght of a cloudless sky, 

And all their grief is done." 


"At Dawn" : These are the words which told 
us that our little friend had entered into light. 
At dawn — just at the beginning of a new day her 


spirit took its flight from earth to the joys of 
Heaven. It was the beginning of a new day. It 
was not in any sense an end ; it was in every 
sense a beginning, and it was so for us who are 
left behind as well as for her. It was the be- 
ginning of a new and larger life for her — the 
beginning of experiences of which we may not 
speak. For us, it is the dawn of a new hope, 
new aspirations, new resolutions, larger sym- 
pathy, deeper consecration, more blessed service 
for God and humanity.. At dawn — the day was 
just breaking. The real opportunity of achieve- 
ment is still before us. Xow we see through a 
glass darkly ; sometime we shall see face to face. 
Life is a series of beginnings. The night cometh 
but also the morning. Morning follows ever\ 
night. This should not be to us a day for tears 
and sadness; but a day for rejoicing and con- 
gratulations. A great blessing has come to this 
home. One fit to be an angel has lived in it for 
nearly fourteen years ; and, having gone from it. 
has led the hearts of those who remain to things 
above. It was dawn for her ; it is dawn for us. 

These are the thoughts which 1 would leave 
with you to-day. She lived a completed life, and 
a life of love. It is not possible that such a one 
should be holden of death. Her going away was 
a dawn for her and a dawn for us. 

^Fay I leave with you one other thought to- 
day? We are weak and needs niust mourn. We 


miss the presence of one we loved ; but let us not 
forget that even our weakness and limitations are 
known bv our Heavenly l-'ather. Every moment 
we are in His care, and are watched over as we 
watch and care for those we love. "As one whom 
his mother comforteth, so will I comfort vou, 
and ye shall be comforted." "In my Father's 
house there are many rooms; if it were not so, 1 
would have told you. I go to prepare a place 
for you." 

Doctor Bradford then read the Star Song, which 
had been found among ner papers at Hilltop Farms, 
after her death, written in her hand, and entitled: 



Every night, a star high above me, 
Sends its light, clear and briglit. 
To say, *T love you" ; 
Sends its light, clear and bright, 
To say, "I love you." 


In my bed I lie, but am not sleeping ; 
From afar calls a star, 
"My watch 1 am keeping"; 
Frcrm afar calls a star, 
"My watch I am keeping." 

A COM PLE T E D L I E E . 77 

The Episcopal Burial Service was read by the 
Rev. Henry King Hannah, standing by the casket in 
the Hbrary, where the family and kindred were 
gathered ; and the services were brougiit to a close by 
Dixtor Bradford, who pronounced the Benediction. 

In accordance with her often expressed wish, the 
dear body \vas taken to Linden. Xew Jersey, for 
cremation, and the incineration was accomplished at 
twilight, the same afternoon, during one of the most 
exquisitely tender sunsets and after glow effects which 
we had ever beheld. Dawn, and Twilight! 

Sunday nx)rning following, we dejxisited the 
precious ashes in the family plot at Rosedale. Doctor 
Bradford reading: his own verv beautiful Burial Ser- 
vice there, concluding with prayer. Only the im- 
mediate family attending. 

But not all of the sacred ashes were thus deposited. 
In accordance with another often expressed desire, 
some of theni were retained for final distribution 
at her beloved Hilltop Farms "at sunset. " as she said, 
"and when the wind is from the north." 

We selected her "Tree of Life" as the most ap- 
propriate s]K)t and on this ancient pine her devoted 
friends. Mr. and Mrs. William M. White have caused 
the following bronze tablet to be placed as a lasting 
memorial of their dear child-friend. 


Carol s "Tree of Life. " 

here she loved to play. here she used 

to linger for long summer hours 

and read and write and paint 

and dream. and here in compliance 

with her dear wisn are strewn the 

remainder of her precious ashes. 

Erected in Memory of 

1896 .1910 



The following article is reprinted from the White 
Mountains Repuhlic-J oxirnal , for October 7th, and is 
substantially the same as the article which appeared 
in the Littleton (N. H.) Courier of the same date: 

Carolyn Styles Adams, the younger daughter of Mr. and 
Mrs. \V, I. Lincoln Adams, died at her home, Hilltop Farms, 
Tuesday morning at dawn. She had been in ill healtli for tlie 
past six weeks, "the immediate cause of her death being 
Bright's disease. She was in her fourteenth year, but her 
years, though brief in number, compassed a life that was a 
blessing to all who were privileged to share its brightness. 
Mr. Adams purchased Hilltop Farms the year she was born, 
and she had spent a great deal of her life there. No one of 
the five children of Mr. and Mrs. Adams loved the farm as 
she did, or enjoyed the life with such intensity'. She was 
a true child of Nature, possessing an innate appreciation of 
the beauties of out-of-door life, and being devoted to animals, 
particularly to horses. She was perfectly at home in the 
saddle, and her familiar figure, as she rode on horseback 
through local streets, will be greatly missed. 

Her tender sympathy with those less fortunate was one 
of her characteristics. She was an unusual child. Her 
personality was unique and wonderfull}' interesting, and the 
rare beauty of her character, and the originality of her mind 
were constantly illustrated. After her death her father found 
among her belongings the following little poem in her hand- 
writing. There was no mark whereby to tell the authorship 
and it is supposed to be her own production. It shows the 
high quality of her thoughts and a child's imagination rich 
in promise. 

(Then followed the "Star Song.'" which is printed on 
another page of this little volume.) 

So CAROL y A" ; 

The foliowing notice was printed in The Montclaif 
Times, of October 8tli. and is practically the same as 
the one wliich ai>peared in The Moutclair Herald, on 
the day previous : 

As tlie bun rose over the Xew Hampshire lulls Ia>t Tues- 
day morning, one of those short lives that ennoble and en- 
rich all who enter into contact with it came lo a peaceful 
close. Carolyn Styles Adams, the second daughter of Mr. 
and Mrs. \\". I. Lincoln Adams, of Montclair, although only 
in her fourteenth year, had lived a life which no one who 
knew her can ever forget. She died, as she had lived, so 
happily, at Hilltop Farms, near Littleton, Xew Hampshire. 
This was as she had wished, for every nook and corner of 
the rolling countrj- about her had its separate memory for 
her, as indeed it was sanctihed by her presence. 

A beautiful spirit with a philosophy all her own, a de- 
voted nature lover, a rare little horsewoman, and a friend 
of all dumb animals, Carol} n possessed the soul of a poet. 
She leaves behind her, besides her parents and brothers and 
sister, a hnst of sad faced young friends here and elsewhere, 
and with older ones who knew her, one of those ineflfable 
recollections wliich lime sweetens rather than effaces. 

And the following" was the particularly appropriate 
notice which appeared in Oiiv Week, the official pub- 
lication of the First Congregational Church, of Mont- 
clair, for October 9th: 

"At Daw.n." 1 hcse beautiful and suggestive words told 
us during the last week that Carolyn Adams, daughter of Mr. 
and Mrs. \\". I. Lincoln Adams, had entered into a larger and 
fairer life at Littlct^.n. X. PL A large circle of friends will 
miss her sweet presence, and a still larger rmmber offer their 
sympathy to the fami'> . We shall not forget ;hat she went 
away "At Dawn.*' What wc blindly call death ought always 
be r' garded as "Dawn.'' 



'Twas just at dawn 

Her gentle Spirit took its flight ; 

The soft night-mists lay still and white. 

As She lay in her calm; 

And pearl-grey was the tender light, 

Which ushered in that morn. 

A little bird (the one She loved) 
Sang softly from the tree, 
The "song that said a thousand things. 
And seemed to say them all for me !" 

And now I wonder, may it be, 
(Whene'er that song at dawn I hear), 
My Carol's soul comes back to me, 
Her loving Spirit then is near ! 


Wt Buffer as mr InuF: 

(Tbr mnrr intrnnr tbr Innr. 

QJlir brr^^irr, Iriirr. murr uusrlfisb. 

CThp krrnrr pain. 

Ah. (Bob! ffihat must it br fnr abrp? 

(Tbou uibu lunrst all — tnfiuUrly! 


T)cr Room, 


Cbi9 19 her room. Let no one enter b<rc 
mho enters not with bravc-eycd cheerfulness. 
'CQhat though its silence wound thy heart anew 
Hnd each dear object moch thy loneliness; 
CShat though the patient place her image lach, 
Xs grief so selfish it would call her bacU? 
Chis is her room. Let no one enter here 
<JUho comes not in with loving cheerfulness. 

Hy this is still her room. Cum not away 
Cill in thy heart is sweet assurance born 
Chat hence her presence has but seemed to fade, 
Hs some soft star fades in the blue of morn, 
3nd that her spirit hovers here to bless 
Our aching hearts with soothing tenderness. 
Chis is her room. Cum not away until 
praise, love, and cheer arc in thy heart new born ! 

Carolvn's room in Knoll House, at Hillt >p 
Farms, rear Littleton. N. H., and ia Irvingcroft, 
at Montclair. N. J., have both been kept just as 
she left them, and a copy of this poem hangs 
in each room. 

^ r