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THE LIBRARY
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THE UNIVERSITY
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LOS ANGELES
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Katharine F. Richmond
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DISCOURSES AND LiriTHRS
COMMEMORATIVE OF
EMILY LANE SMYTH,
WIFE OF FXGOV. FREDERICK SMYTH.
' Fold her, O Father, in Thine arms.
And let her henceforth l)e
A messenger of love betweiMi
My hnman lieait and Thee,
Till glad I hear her welconK- voice
To heaven and home for nie."
MANCHESTER, N. H.
JOHN H . C L A k K E , P R I N I' F. R .-
1S85.
f
VIA SOLITARIA.
Aloue I walk the peopled citj-,
Where each seems happy with his own ;
O friends ! I ask not for your pity, —
I walk alone.
No more for me yon lake rejoices,
Though moved by loving airs of June;
() birds ! your sweet and piping voices
Are out of tune.
In vain for me the elm-tree arches
Its plumes in many a feathery spray ;
In vain the evening's starry marches
And sunlit day.
In vain your beauty, summer flowers ;
Ye cannot greet those cordial eyes;
They ga/e on other fields than ours, —
On other skies.
The gold is ritled from the coffer.
The blade is stolen from the sheath ;
Life has but one more boon to offer.
And that is — Death.
Yet well I know the voice of duty,
And therefore life and health nmst crave,
Though she who gave the world its beauty
Is in her grave.
For life to me is as a station
Wherein, apart, a traveler stands, —
One absent long from home and nation,
In other lands.
And I as he who stands and listens.
Amid the twilight's chill and gloom,
To hear, approaching in the distance.
The train for home.
For death shall bring another mating.
Beyond the shadows of the tomb;
On yonder shore a bride is waiting
Until I come.
Thou, then, the longing heart that breakest,
Stealing the treasures one by one.
I'll call thee blessed when thou raakest
The parted one."'
A MEMORIAL.
The subject of this nieiuorial, Emily (Lane) Smyth,
was born in Candia, K IL,.Tuly 22, 1822, the fiftli of a
family of six, one brother and five sisters. She was the
dauLchter of John Lane an<l Xabby (Kmerson) Lane, and
u:rand-dau<<liter of Col. Nathaniel Emerson, who served
under Stark at Bennington. Her father was a prominent
man of afi'airs in town, justice of the peace, surveyor,
re})resentative in the state legislature, general legal ad-
viser, a man of most kindly disposition, and fine, gentle-
manly demeanor. The mother, in her later years an
invalid, was a lady of (juiet tastes and admirable discre-
tion, full of that wisdom so needful in the administration
of the household. The atmosphere of intelligence and
the firm but gentle training of this Christian liome liad
much to do with the character of .\[rs, Smyth.
liichard Emerson Lane, the first-born of the family,
graduated at Dartmouth in 1841, and died suddenly at
Lewiston, X. Y., in 1842, where he was teaching. The
survivors are Sarah Tilton, Mrs. Warren S. Childs, of
Henniker, Ilannali Godfrey, Mrs. Henry M. Eaton, of
Candia, Abby Emerson, wife of tlie late Richard H. Page,
of Candia, and Liicretia, Mrs. Francis B. Eaton, of Man-
chester.
Mrs. Smyth was a bright and ready schoUir in tlie
common schools of her native district, — at that time thor-
oughly good so far as they went, — and in the town high
school, usually taught by college graduates. She took
an after-course in a young ladies" seminary at Charles-
town, Mass., and was for several terms thereafter a teacher
in Manchester and in other places, and in this capacity
she was as highly appreciated and as nuich beloved in
the days of her youth as in after-times and in wider
spheres.
She was married to Frederick Smyth, December 11,
1844, and thenceforth she became one with her husband.
There was nothing needful to be done in her new home
in Manchester that she did not know how to do and to
do well, and she felt it a disgrace to sit with folded hands
wliile her companion pushed his fortunes alone. But to
be a shining example of all the domestic virtues was by
no means the extent of her endowment. Iler father's
knowledge of public affairs made her ac(|uainted with the
tlctails of business, the city clerk and the bank cashier
could call on her for aid when needful, while her personal
beauty, the rare charm of her conversation, and the win-
ning ease of her manner everywhere made friends. So
time passed, and for the most part, or all but about two
years of her long and happy wedded life, she was blessed
with excellent health, and from first to last, in the cottage
on Merrimack square, or in the governor's mansion at
" The Willows,'" her graces seemed but the spontaneous
overtiow of asunny and genial nature, worn, indeed, with
a dignity that commanded respect, but touched with no
tinge of hniitoir. And what shall I say of the delights
of the home, of those traits which made the place a
heaven on earth?
With her husband she had grown up side by side ; he
was one of her nearest neighbors and her schoolmate,
and so, when joined [)y the tie of wedlock, her feelings,
her thoughts, and ambitions were wholly in unison with
his, and t)ut of this grew a beautiful circumstance, — too
rare, indeed, in this l)usy age. Xo two people in public
or in private were so constantly togcthei-. The lodgl; or
the smoking-room iK'ver drew him from her side: with-
out her he was never seen at the play, the concert, or the
lecture, and on their travels, pcojile noting the odd fact
of a gentleman thoroughly devoted to his wife have con-
cluded them to be iicwlv married.
She delighted in the country drives about Manchester,
and day after day, in all inviting seasons, through new-
cut roads or grass-grown ways, they were often met as
evening drew on seeking health and the purest pleasure.
Mrs, Smyth had a passionate love for wild flowers ; she
knew their secret haunts, and she brought home from
her journeys seeds out of the wonderftd natural gardens
of other lands and planted at " The Willows." As she loved
ilowers, and as she cared for birds and the nests about
her place, so was she very sweet and gracious in her
manner to little children. Of the trees and the shrubs,
the very hedge-rows about the place, it may be said that
they were personal triends ; she saw them set, and watched
with loving interest over their growth. When her hus-
band, wearied with intense application to business, came
home, her foot was first upon the lawn, her carol greeted
him at the open door with never-tiring freshness.
In the course of her husband's pu1)lic life she was called
on to entertain as guests some among the most distin-
guished people of the United States, — Chief-Justice Chase,
Chief-Justice Waite and family, President Hayes and
wife, tlie wife und daughter of Gen. Grant, Vice-Presi-
dents Hamlin and Colfax, Henry Ward Ik'ccher and
wife, Gens, liutler, Martindale, and Chamberlain, Post-
master-General Key, Judge Bond of the United States
eircuit court, Hon. W. M. Evarts, Mrs. Mary A. Liver-
more; and it was lier delight to welcome to her home tor
a ])rief rest that hard-working, eloquent native Greek
missionary, with his efficient helper and wife, the Rev.
George C'onstantine, of Smyrna. One of the most nota-
ble events immediately preceding her fatal illness was the
reception tendered l)y cx-Ctov. Smyth to the Kepublican
candidate for the presidency, the Hon. James G. Blaine.
Adejit as she was in the art of making a pleasant
home, she ^^•as always ready at a moment's notice to
accompany her husband on his numerous excursions, and
he rarely lel"t home Avithout her. In this numner she
became widely familiar with our own country, journeying
frequently \vest and south, to the Canadas and California,
and later to Mexico aiul Cuba. In 1878 Mr. and Mrs. Smyth
went abroad, visiting points of interest in England and
Scotland, and after a week in Paris went c!<i Egy})t to the
Holy Land. At that time they visited Smyrna, Constan-
tinople, and Athens, returning to Paris by way of Xajtles,
through Konu', Florence, ^'cnice, and Milan, with a brief
stop in Switzerland. After some needed rest in J'aris,
they came home ria Dublin, Edinlturgh, and London.
Four years latei", while revisiting numy of the [»laces
above iiamofl, tliey made a more extt-ndefl tour of tlie
Holy Land, went through Spain to Gil)raltar, and to Tan-
giers on the African coast, made tlie voyage ui> the Xile,
visited Damascus and Baalbec, and from Constantinople
crossed the Black Sea to Varna, went through Roumania,
Bulii:aria, and Hungary down the valley of the Danube
to Vienna, and back to Paris via Munich and Strasbourg.
Atter a few months' rest at home Mrs. Smyth seemed
in unusually good health and spirits, and often narrated
in the company of the friends she loved many interesting
incidents of her journey.
In the summer of 1884 she was not feeling (piite as
well as heretofore, and in the hot days that followed in
the early September was attacked by a sudden indisposi-
tion which seemed to threaten })aralysis. She, however,
]»artially recovered un(l(^r the care of her attending physi-
cian, Dr. Thomas AVheat, and some weeks later consulted
Dr. William A. Hammond in Xew York city. Some-
what Itenefitud she returned home, V)ut soon experienced
i\ relaytse and was t-ontined to her room. Her physician
and friends, however, were hopeful of her recovery.
Later in tlie ease Dr. John L. liol)inson was called in
cojisultation, and Dr. Hammond summoned from Xew
^'ork. Her malady was then jironounced to be Briglit's
disease, and while no hope was given of a permanent
9
cure, it was thouii'lit slie inii2:ht <ret 'al»out and ciijcn- yet
even some years of comfortable health. For some days
tiie indications were favorable, and then she ii^rew speedily
worse. Aii:ain Dr. iramniond came, this time oidy to
confirm the fears of her friends and the opinion of her
attendinij; physicians. She saw and remarked on the
anxious faces about her, and divined the worst. She was
\'erv calm, and she alone of all the sad ii'roup could smile
and speak in her old cheery way. On that same day,
Saturday, January the lOtli, after conversation with her
}>astor, the liev. Dr. Spaldinsi", she was received into the
URMnbership of the Franklin-street church. On Sunday
she was perfectly clear in her mind, conversinsj: much
and identityinu'. as her husband read to her from the
Scri[)tures, localities they had visited toii'ether in the Holy
Land.
Durini!; the days that remained she was sli_ii:htly wan-
deriuii', but ii:reeted her friends in fre(pient lucid intervals
with her old charminii' smile, was solicitous about the
trouble to which she was puttinii' her devoted husband
and sisters and faithful nurses, and so courteous, kindly,
C'hristlike to the very last, on the 14th day of January,
ISS."), about ten in the morninu', }>assed on up tiie shininii-
way to the Xew Jerusalem.
F. B. EATOX.
10
The funeral services took place on Sunday, January
the 18th. Prayer was ottered at the house by the pastor,
the Kev. George B. S[»alding, I). D., and a hymn sung
by the Franklin-street quartet. As the cortege passed to
the church, the chimes, which were presented to the
society by ex-Gov. and Mrs. Smyth, rang PleyeFs Hymn,
Bethany, Afount Vernon, Naomi, and other airs in keep-
ing with the occasion.
At the clnirch the order of service was as follows: —
Organ Prelude.
Singing — " Come, ye disconsolate, where're ye languish."
Scripture Reading from 1 Corinthians, xv. 1-55.
Prayer.
Singing — "Come unto Me when shadows darkly gather." — Tune of
Henley.
Discourse by Rev. (ieorge H. Spalding, D. I).
Hymn — " Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away." — Tune of floUey.
Remarks and Benediction hy the Rev. C. W . Wallace, D. D.
The spacious church was tilled to its utmost capacity,
and hundreds were unable to tind entrance. Friends
were present from Concord, I'ortsmouth, and other
}»laces, and thousands availed themselves of the opportu-
nity to look for the last time on the face, regnant and
beautiful even in death, of her they had known and
bn'ed so well.
DISCOURSE.
BY THE KEV. GEOlKiE 15. .Sl>ALI)IN(i, 1). D.
1 Cor. XV. 55. — "• () ])eatli, whei'c is thy sting? 0
(iPiive, wlierc is thy victory':'''
This song of trinni})!! is the cclio of tlie lingers voice
wliich years hefore had 1)een heard in tlie garden ])y the
rocky tonih : " lie is not liere, hut is risen."' That sceiie
of sorrow in whic-h Mary and the disciples mingled was
at once transformed into a scene of ghuhiess. The wail-
ing cries of hroken hearts gave way to exultant shouts.
'' The Lord is risen indeed I '" " The Lord is risen indeed! "
The garden hloomed again. The stern, rocky grave was
buried beneath its flowers. .Joy tilled all hearts. Death
at last had been concjuered. Their Lord was ln-nceforth
" the Prince of Life." And by His resurrection these,
Ilis disciples, connuered death. They who, like all man-
kind, through fear of death had all their life been subject
to bondage, were now forever delivered. One after an-
other they died: but the King of Terrors had no teri'or
for them. The survivors bore their loved comi)anions
12
one by one to the grave, but the grave was radiant with
heavenly hope. Though there was a tender sorrow at
every remenibranee of James's virtues and cruel deatli,
and of Ste[)hen's heroism and shining faith, yet their
believing friends, all unmoved h\ the tragic scene, always
spoke of them as " fallen asleep in Christ."
Years went l)y. The name of Christ had penetrated
into new countries, among men of foreign birth and faith.
It had crossed the Mediterranean, and drawn to it a clus-
ter of believing men and women in the city of C^orinth,
where, beyond any city of the times, luxury and sensu-
ality, stimulated by the gambling spirit of commercial
life, raiikly grew and tlourislied. Men, women, and chil-
dren died out of this little number of Christ's followers
as died those of other classes in the great city. House-
holds were broken as well among the members of the
little church as among the eager merchants who ke}»t the
streets, ports, and seas Inisy with their enter}>rise. or
among the gay revelers who with that recklessness begot-
ten (if skepticism challenged each other to some fresh
ex<'ess, with the cry: "Let us eat and drink, for to-mor-
row we die."" I'^verywhere in that splendid city, in every
street, in every circle of life, children, youth, beauty,
strength, manhood, all alike ownetl the [tower of death
13
tuid yielded to his inexorable .sway. . But to these Chris-
tian believers, in tlieir hour of bereavement, in the shad-
ow of death, in their farewells to the <lying, by the closed
tonil), amidst tears of fond remembrance and feelings of
mightiest loss, the scene of the blooming garden, and the
vacant sepulcher, and the risen Clirist, and the glad dis-
cijties renewed itself. The shout of triumph heard from
angels' lips, and caught up by Mary and tlie disciples,
was again repeated with the same exultant cadence. In
tlie face of death, before the open grave, above the recum-
bent forms of their loved ones, these followers of the first
disciples sang their triumiihant song, " O Death, where
is thy sting? 0 Grave, where is thy victory? " It stands
as among the clearest facts in liistory, as a veritable ele-
ment in human ex[terience, that all through the ages
since, death has put on for a large part of the human race
an altogether new aspect. Since Christ died and rose
again, the atHie-tiuns of humanity have clianged their
character. S(-)rr()W is not what it was before lie came.
Death is not what it was since lie slept in the grave.
The grave is not what it was since He ascended. Sepa-
rations are not what they were since he opened to men's
eyes the " Father's house,'' and brought so consciously
near " the whole familv in heaven and earth."
14
This feeling of lofty cheer manifested itself in the
funeral rites of the early believers. The procession to
the grave was one of triumph. Those who took part in
it carried in their hands branches, not of the gloomy
cy[>ress as did the Greeks and Komans, but of palm and
olive, as of those who celebrate a victory. Leaves of the
evergreen laurel and ivy were placed upon the bosom of
the deail, a token of immortal hope. The nearest friends
carried lighted lamps or torches. The procession did not
move forward in silence but with chants and hymns.
Believers in Christ left to the Komans the use of black
apparel, and to the Jews ashes and rent garments. They
clothed themselves in purest white.
So, always since, in times, and among believers of larg-
est faith, the gloom and despondency which death brings
to the heart when left to itself have ijiven wav to feelincrs ot
thankfulness and victorious hope. They have been able
in all their tears over the dead, and in all their own near-
ness to death, to exclaim, " O Death, where is thv stingr?
() (ira\e, where is thy victory? ''
Ft is among such joyous and trium}>hant feelings as
these that I ajtproach the sul))ect tliat is more immedi-
ately in your thoughts.
The contemplation of such a nol)le life as has here
15
coino to it8 oartlily end, — the analysis of" a character in
whicli met 80 many a<hniral)le (lualities, ought to be
attended witli feehngs of supreme comfort ; nay, more,
of elation and triumpli ; for death, in all the desolation
and loss tliat he has liere acconi[»lished, lias not liere con-
(juered. The victory is liers, whose faith took hold upon
Christ, whose' life was suffused with His grace, and whose
virtues were such that death must needs glorify them, and
open to them in anotlier existence a larger s[)here for their
freest exercise.
An illustrious French writer has said that it is the
most felicitous of all things to he born well. In this re-
spect we may count Mrs. Smyth as most happy; for she
whom we had come to admire as in the higliest sense a
typical New Kngland woman, was ])orn into the l)est
Ni'w England iuHuences.
There was, tirst, the iV«//" Enfilaiid Home: the mother,
amialde in cliaracter, tender and faithful in her endless
ministry: the father, the most distinguished man in
the town, the counselor for a wide neighborhood, jus-
tice of the ])eace, land-sur^■eyor, re})resentative to the
general court, a man who was deeply interested in the
education of the young, himself an old teacher, who
owned the most shares in the villau'c circvdating librarv.
IG
and \\iio introduced the largest part of its well selected
books into his own family; a man, unlike most ^ew
England fathers of his time, who ruled his household
with love, and entered with sympatliy and keenest zest
into the life of the youngest; and withal a deeply religious
man according to the Old Testament type, reverential,
devout, conscientious, full of the solemnities, obligations,
and lidelities of religion. It was a happy household,
where the members were knit together by a common
service and sacrifice, a common dei»endence and helpful-
ness,— where the two mightiest forces that can mold
character, human love and religious feeling, were ever
liresent. Among such inlluences was this one born and
nurtured, and so she grew to be a girl of uncommon
beauty of person and spirit.
And there was the Xeir Enyloitd District School, where
she was for the most })art educated. Here, in our coun-
try, there has been no better method for the development
of mind and character to meet the relations of life. The
district school " numl)er two,"' '' the meeting-house dis-
trict '■ at Candia, was among the very best. Because the"
wealth of the town was mostly centered there, the school
year for the children was the longest, and the teachers
Were most often undei'-i^raduates of the college. The
17
few months spent at the seminary at Charlestown, Mass.,
gave a grace and iinisli to the girl's mind and manners,
but those ])road, popular sympathies, and democratic
principles and impulses which so grandly characterized
the woman through every successive stage of her brilliant
career, were fostered and strengthened in the common
school.
And besides the New England Home and the New
England School, was the Nero Eiuiland Church, which
last added its powerful inHuence to shape this life to its
great uses, and to develop in this character its mingled
strengths and graces. The country church of half a cen-
tury ago was the center of intellectual and social as well
as spiritual life. The doctrines preached from the pulpit
were strong and distinct, full of solemnity and alarm.
Keligion, as it impressed itself upon the consciences and
fears of men and women, was a deeply serious and awful
thing. This impression has ]>een seen in the life-long
views of her who has gone from us, iu:>t affecting so much
her life and character as her opinions and feelings in
respect to her own relations to the church. The momen-
tous nature of a public confession of Christ, or, as the act
was formerly designated, "a profession of religion,"
wrought in her utmost self-distrust and sore timiditv
18
whenever she attempted, as many times she did, to as-
sume this <hity, a sense of which was always with her.
It was only hy a supreme etfort to overcome the shrink-
ing feelings implanted in her very sonl in her early youth
that she was at last enahled, with peace and comfort, to
enter into an outward union with Clirist in His church.
But her earlier religious training did not fail to work out
in her happier results. It gave to her an unfailing de-
voutness in the whole temper of her soul, tilling her with
great reverence, and holding her through all the experi-
ences of her puhlic life sensitively conscientious in word
and action, and rigorously ol)servant of religious form
and service. The prayer-meetings of her younger days,
with their solemn voices of heseeching, and their sweet
songs, never were forgotten by lier. The old tunes, the
old hymns, she sang them through all the twilight hours
of her life. Her soft sweet voice echoes through the
evenings at home, and will echo while there are hearts
there to weep, and rejoice over a Ijlessed, happy past.
There was needed only one other experience to crown
this young life, and to equi}* this so richly endowed na-
ture for its noble career. At the early age of eighteen
Mrs. Smyth l)ecame a teacher in the common school.
She taught in her native town and in Chester, and here
10
ill Manchester. She was highly successful in this most
important service, and it was an echication in itself, devel-
oping that superb self-control, and that quiet but master-
ing control of others, that independence and self-reliance
which entered so largely into her after life.
At twenty-two years of age she was married and began
her life in Manchester, which has been continued through
these forty ^-ears. I need not trace its outward events^
nor speak in detail of those unusual circumstances which
have served to make her name and position conspicuous
in the public estimation. I only want to set forth anew
the always needed lesson of life. Here, forty years ago^
began a true marriage union, in humble circumstances
at first, but hand joined to hand, and heart to heart, and
lives blending into perfect unity, in oneness of struggl'e,
oneness of aim, rising together by mutual help through
the long years into stage after stage of success, of pros-
perity, of high ofHcial honor, of distinguished public
service, until a great number in the state and outside the
state have looked uiton it with praise and admiration.
How much her calm, strong judgment, womanly wit, and
winning, pojiular address and unfailing inspiration of hope
and love have helped to this success, none so largely and
thankfully acknowledges as the one who mourns her
most to-dav.
20
111 my analysis of the influence one exerts upon others,
something certainly is to be matle of personal appearance,
of outward manner. As Virgil long ago sang, " Even
virtue is more fair when it appears in a beautiful person."
How much the goodness and kindness of this heart
strengthened their power over us by the outward grace
of feature, the majesty of form, and the charm of man-
ners, none of us can tell, although we all felt these. In
her very unconsciousness of all this was the secret of her
power. Everything about her was so full of simplicity,
so natural, so altogether free from the artilicial, the for-
mal, the conventional. Under all beat a loving heart,
full of sympathies, prompting her to constant ministra-
tions to the poor, the unfortunate, and all in suffering.
Her warmest friends were the poor, for in her own dear
A\ay slie so gave to them that they felt she was a friend
and not a patron, — somehow one of them. I count it
tlie noblest thing in this true woman that as she rose
from stage to stage in social position until she stood at
the highest, she carried up with her all the associations,
friendships, and sympathies which were with her at the
first. From her social queenship she could go back to
her native town, and the sweetness and simplicity of her
girlliood were still with her, and old friends and new
21
friends rejoiced in her presence. There was no hauieury
no exclusiveness, no self-consciousness, betraying her into
silly speech or forbidding manner. She provoked no
jealousy. Slie created no envy, — only the emulation of
all noble hearts to be like her in the sincerity of her soul,
the sweetness of her charity, and the graciousness of her
life. Nature had done much for her outwardly and
within. Her temperament was warm but free from pas-
sion. She held herself with a surprising evenness. Noth-
ing could fret her into a violent assertion. She was always
sunny and cheerful, and it was her very nature to ray forth
good feeling into the very lives of those who met her.
She Avas above all accusation in her talk of others. She
could not stoop to that gossip that with such a reckless
judgment slays the reputation of half a neighborhood.
Who can recall a bitter word of hers ? She had that
charity of si)eech that would cover a multitude of sins.
There arc women of great character, and it may be
utmost worth, who in this or tluit quality rise before us
in their superiority. Here is one radiant in beauty, daz-
zling by the display of elegance in all external (pialities ;
here is another of keenest intellectual wit, whose brilliant
sayings fill us with admiration or fear; here is another,
whose attainments in knowledge or arts make her name
22
famous ; here is still another, whose whole life and char-
acter find their expression in a self-absorbed devotion to
some noble object. But she wlio rises before my vision
to-daj surpassed these difterent t}7>es, each superior in its
own way, in that she combined in herself so many excel-
lences, blending so harmoniously charm of manner,
majesty of person, strong judgment, utmost good sense,
warm sympathies, truest humility and sincerity, religious
reverence, faith and love, — blending all these so as to
make more conspicuous than any gift or grace she pos-
sessed that complete womanhood , which is the best gift of
heaven to earth. Such was the poet's high ideal.
" I saw her upon nearer view,
A spirit, yet a woman too !
» » #
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food.
» « « «
A perfect woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command ;
And yet a spirit still, and bright,
AVith something of an angel-light,"
There are two thoughts which we may well carry forth
into all the life that may yet remain to each of us. First,
23
a grateful sense of God's goodness, in giving to us such a
character and life as we have been contemplating. It
has been passed here in this community, in this church,
in our homes, in the home where most it revealed itself.
It has blessed and cheered, it has comforted and inspired
a great number ; the sympathies and affections of
this heart have strengthened many of you. The sun-
shine of this face has fallen upon many of you. The
help of these hands has been felt l)y many of you. The
graciousness of this life has sweetened many a bitter ex-
perience of yours. Here is much to be thankful to God
for. Let not a sense of i)resent loss, or an apprehension
of future loneliness, make you forget the many years in
which God has made the blessings of such a life continue
with you. God was in this nature. He created it, and
He developed and sanctified it by His discipline and grace,
and He has made its strength and beauty to pass before
your eyes, to inspire, rejoice, and comfort you. To His
name be praise even from 3'our broken hearts.
And the second thought is that of the inspiration of
such a life. The more we look into this character the
more clearly shall we see that its real force and influence
were in its spiritual qualities. Take away the personal
charm of face, form, and manners, there would still
24
remain love, fidelity, charity, religious principle, faith,
and reverence. Take away all the outward conditions
of material prosperity and social rank, and these spiritual
elements would ahide. Her goodness, her sweetness,
her sympathies, her devoutness, were hers, back in the
days of struggle and sacrifice. These were the sources
of her influence and the elements of her nobility then as
ever afterwards. And these exist to-da^-. They outlive
life ; they take hold upon eternit}'. The outward form
so beautiful, — the grave will hold and despoil that; but
the real self, those invisible spiritualities which made up
her character and drew our love, and made her such a
blessing, death has not touched, the grave cannot hold.
From the upper heavens I hear, as it were, her glorified
self saying to us amidst this scene of death and sorrow,
and over the grave where we shall place her — saying, in
clear exultant tones, " O Death, where is thy sting? O
Grave, where is thy victory ? Thanks be unto God which
hath given to me the victory through my Lord Jesus
Christ."
REMARKS.
BY THE REV. C. W. WALLACE, D. D.
Dr. Wallace having been introduced as the early pastor
of the deceased, said that he desired to utter brietly a few
sentiments regarding the loss of one he had known for
many years, and spoke substantially as follows : —
I remember, and it was seemingly but the other day,
when a young man and his young bride came into my
congregation and took seats on the l)road aisle. They
were reverent and attentive listeners, I took notice of
their early struggles up and on, as they set about accom-
plislnng the work appointed them to do. I saw how
easily and with what completeness their aims were
blended into one, and how well she did her part in wliat-
ever position her husband attained.
Coming from her countrN" home she never seemed to
make any effort to reach what are sometimes called the
higher circles of society, and yet when there she fell into
her place as naturally as though it were hers l»y right.
She felt that she could afford to be social and courteous
26
in all place^j. I remember calling upon Mrs. Sni}*!!!
shortly after she moved into her new home at " The Wil-
lows" ; she showed me all about, took me into the cham-
bers to see the outward views of varied and beautiful
landscape which each commanded. I admired things
without and within ; everything was surpassingly- harmo-
nious and in good taste, and as I was about to come away
I remarked : " This is beautiful. This is good enough
till you reach that house not made with hands," She
made no answer in words, but her countenance expressed
an eloquent response to my suggestion.
She had much to live for. With rare natural gifts, an
abundance had been bestowed upon her; everyone
looked upon and admired her. Doubtless there are
women who from smaller circles would be as greatly
missed. Hers was a wider sphere ; more eyes were upon
her ; and yet none had aught to say against her.
This beautiful person when she felt the hand of death
approach looked not to the east nor to the west but above,
to Him who said, " He who believeth on Me shall never
die." To us here there has come a great sadness; her
form is here, but she has gone. Everyone feels a per-
sonal share in the loss which has befallen us. But it is
only for a brief time. I look out. It is winter time.
27
God has Hlieoted the earth with a .mantle of snow, em-
blematical of the pure life which has just departed. It
seems hard to lay her away in the cold ground; ])ut
reflect, my friends; she whom you loved is not there in
that colHn; she has gone upward to a better region, and
out of this thought comes a l)lessing for all. "We are
here only a short time. We are l)ir(ls of passage, and soon
go beyond, to tliat region whither we are all traveling.
LEITERS.
Portsmouth, January 14, 1885.
My Dear Sir : —
Please receive the assurance of my lieartfelt sympathy
in your bereavement. The departure of so excellent a
woman as Mrs. Smyth is a public loss, and while the
hearts of your friends everywhere are tilled with sadness
at this dispensation, there is breatlied a prayer that you
may be strengthened and sustained in this hour of your
great afliiction.
With very kind regard,
Your friend,
WILLIAM II. HACKETT.
(Clerk U. S. Court.)
Hon. Frederick Smyth, Manchester,
Amherst, January 14, 1885.
My Ever Dear Friend: —
And now the windows of your house are darkening.
I know all what it means, having felt the same ; and from
my loneliness of years hasten to express to you my tender
sympathy in your great loss, — a loss so great and a bur-
30
den so heavy to be borne that naught but the grace of
God can sustain you, — and to that, with all my heart, I
commend you, with the earnest prayer to Heaven that
3'ou may be abundantly " comforted with the comfort
wherewitli we have been comforted of God."' God is
faithful who hath promised, and will as surely fultill.
Yours in Christ,
(And surely that means sympathy and love),
E. D. BOYLSTOX.
Englewood, X. J., January 14, 1885.
Dear Friend : —
I am filled with dismay and grief at the thought of
your sorrow. How I do wish I could comfort you. Be-
lieve me, I do pray for you with all my heart and strength,
and I knoir God will sustain you. Remember it is only
for a little time — the years slip away so (piickly — when
we will all meet again, purified, chastened, and godlike.
How my heart aches for you ! It is well with Emma.
It would be selfish and unkind to ask her to forego the
heavenly pleasures which await her release from the pain
of earthly existence. I only hope that her suffering may
not be long, or that she may be happily unconscious of it.
Poor dear friend, in spirit I walk with you. * * *
Kiss dear Emma for me. How little I dreamed of this
when we last met. I remember yet her hearty laugh ; it
sounded so like her old self that I nearly forgot mv fears.
31
Dear frieiul, I know my words see-ni idle, empty sound.
It must l>e so for a time, but, litippily, God lias arranged
that our atHictions grow into tender memories. So will
yours, though you cannot now so believe.
May God help you is the prayer of your friend,
Mks.*^ JULIA DUXCAN.
(Telegram.)
Boston, January 14, 1885.
Hon. Fkederick Smyth, —
My Ucar Governor: — Allow me to tender to you in
this hour of your bereavement my sincere sympathy and
condolence for tlie very great loss you have sustained in
the removal from this world of one whose cheerful words
and pleasant smiles have made life to you a joy.
J. V. joiixsoN.
Portsmouth, January 15, 1885.
Mt/ Dear Governor : —
We grieve with you over the death of dear Mrs. Smyth.
My heart bleeds for you in your desolation. I hoped
until the last that we might hear of such improvement in
her condition that she might be spared a long time, and
that I should see her a good many times.
I spent a very deliglitful afternoon with her at your
house last July, and since she bade me good-bye at the
32
horse-car I have not seen but have thought of her a great
deal in her sickness. I am grateful for the friendship
and acquaintance of so noble and lovely a woman.
But now she has gone to swell the number of the
blessed, leaving behind many aching, loving hearts, but
also many sweet memories and loving deeds to gladden
the days that are lett her loved ones. May He who
knows your sorrow and who cares for you as none other
can, keep you in his love and bring you purified into the
bliss of the redeemed, is the prayer of
Your long-time friend,
Mrs. AAHOX YOUXG.
(Telegram.)
Concord, X. H., January 15, 1885.
Ex- Gov. Frederick Smyth : —
My deepest sympathy. Beloved in life, death embalms
her memory in all hearts.
J. E. PECKER.
Concord, X. H., January 15, 1885.
Mj Di'iir Governor : —
Through all the first weeks of anxiety, I had hooted
that you might not l)e called upon to pass through the
same sorrow that came to me. God in His wisdom has
<lecreed otherwise, and vour consolation must be that our
33
loss is her gain, and in the remembrance of her lovely
and noble life. May our Heavenly Father give you
strength to carry you through this severe affliction.
With my warmest sympathy, I am
Your sincere friend,
J. H. PEARSON.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, Manchester.
Dover, IST. H., January 15, 1885.
Dear Sir : —
I read with much pain of the death of your excellent
A\ife, and just write a word to express my deepest sympa-
thy, though I know that at such times words are l)ut
empty things. A\^ien we say that she was a thoroughly
good woman, and most thoroughly loved by those who
knew her best, we but give expression to the heart-felt
conviction of all who knew her character and worth. I
shall always remem1)er with pleasure your words and acts
of kindness to me, both while acting chaplain at the Sol-
diers' Home at Augusta, Me., and while a pastor at Man-
chester. May God l)les8 and sustain you in this hour of
affliction. AVith warmest aifection,
I remain your liuml)le servant,
H. F. WOOD.
(Pastor Baptist Church.)
34
Eppixg, January 15, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
J/j/ Dear Friend : — Mrs. Prescott and I read with the
deepest sorrow yesterday of the death of Mrs. Sm3^th, and
we convey to you our sympathy in this sad bereavement.
"We knew of her illness, but did not know her condition
was so critical. She was always a warm friend to us, and
we both feel that we have lost one of our best friends who
always took a lively interest in our prosperity.
Again, my dear governor, allow us to express our
strongest sympathy.
Very sincerely,
B. F. FRESCOTT.
(Ei-Gov.)
Concord, X. H., January 15, 1885.
J/y i)6rt/•.SV/•.• —
I have just heard of your sad atHiction, and trust you
will not think it an intrusion at this time, which must be
so sorrowful for you, if I venture to write to you a few
lines of sympathy.
A kind, dear woman was your dear wife. " In her
tongue was the law of kindness.'' I liave said to myself
as I have thought of her to-day, " She was alwa\-s so kind
and dear a friend to my dear wife, who has gone before
her, and who loved her so much." I feel most sincerely
grieved to tliink you should have to bear so terrible a
35
loss, and am certain that the entire community shares my
own feeling; for when one so conspicuous for only good
deeds and charitahle labor, and so noted withal for her
Christian virtue, is taken from our midst, tlie loss is in
one sense a public one. But I know liow little any poor
words of mine will avail to comfort you, but at this time
didn't wish to be thought lacking in sympathy for you.
Faithfully yours,
«. C. EASTMAX.
Laconia, January 15, 1885,
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
M'l Dear Sir : — I had but just written to a friend with
reference to the death of his wife, when I took up a news-
paper and read a notice of the death of Mrs. Smyth. I
liasten to tender my sympathy and that of Mrs. Hibbard,
on account of your great bereavement. "We had lieard
of her serious illness, but were hoinng that her life might
be s}»ared and her health restored.
- Very truly yours,
E. A. HIBBARD.
(Ex-,Ju(lge Supreme Court.)
(Telegram from New York.)
You have our deepest sympathy.
{^h\s.) LAURA A. and DOUGLASS GREEX.
36
88 Pleasant street, Concord, N. H.,
January 15, 1885.
J/y Dear Gov. Smyth : —
I am deeply pained to learn of the death of dear Mrs.
Smyth. I have been anxiously hoping for favorable news
during these past weeks of suspense. I have lost an old
and valued friend, and one more tie connected with the
happy years of my life is broken. Your wife has always
been my ideal of perfect womanhood, and was held in.
high esteem by Mr. Warde. I cannot refrain from tell-
ing you of my own sorrow in her loss, and heart-felt
sympathy for you in these dark hours of bereavement.
May the loving Father comfort and help you to endure
this blow from His chastening hand.
Very sincerely yours,
(Mrs.) M. C. WARDE.
Concord, January 15, 1885.
My Dear Sir and Brother : —
It was with deep sadness that I read, " Mrs. Smyth,
the dearly beloved wife of ex-Gov. Smyth, is dead." I
know that no words of mine can do anything to relieve
the groat sorrow that has come upon you, Init I do most
deep]}- sympathize with you, my dear brother, and most
heartily do I pray that He who rules above may u})hold
you in this trying hour.
Courteously and fraternally yours,
J. FRAXK WEBSTER.
37
Manchester, January 15, 1885.
My Dear Governor : —
I cannot refrain from offering you my tenderest pity
and heartfelt sympathy, deepened and strengthened by
over forty years of continued friendship. May our Pleav-
enly Father give you the consolation of our holy religion,
and with His love soften and help you bear this terrible
grief and aftiiction. With tenderest regards.
Very sincerely yours,
Mrs. W. B. AVEBSTER.
Young's Hotel, Boston, Mass.,
.January 16, 1885.
My Dear Governor: —
I am sure very many feel that they share with you the
great loss you now sustain. You have my sincerest sym-
pathy, and deeply do I regret that your noble wife could
no longer have been spared to you and her numberless
friends.
Vejy respectfully yours,
CHARLES V. LIVERMORE.
Mr. Smyth, —
Dear Sir : — I have but just heard of your sad bereave-
ment, and I want to tell you how sorry I am, and how
much I sympathize with you in your great sorrow. I
cannot realize that she has passed from us. Though I
38
had heard ot her ilhiess, I also heard she was recovering,
and hoped it was so until I heard of her death. It seems
80 hard one should he taken who had so much to live
for and everything to make her happy. Oh, why should
those he taken that are most needed, and others left that
would he glad to go I Such things are hard for me to
understand, hut it will all be made plain sometime, and
though it is hard to see the light now, we know it is but
a short time at the most when we shall meet those we
love in another world. She will be missed everpvhere,
for she was a lady highly esteemed and loved by all who
knew her. To me she was the perfection of womanhood ;
and, although our accpiaintance was slight, I shall never
forget her.
I wish I could say something that would help you. I
know how hard it must be for you to be reconciled to
her loss, but I think it must be some consolation to look
back upon such a happy married life as yours has been,
and the many happy years you have enjoyed together.
That makes it seem all the harder to bear at first, but in
after years it will be a great consolation to look back and
think of that happiness and feel that there is nothing to
regret, that you were all in all to each other while she
was spared you.
It all seems dark now, but the light must come, and
the sorrow will Ite easier to bear.
Yours res})ectfully,
ADDIE I. AMES.
447 Shawmut avenue, AVednesday, a. m.
39
Dartmouth College, Hanover,
Ja^iuary 16, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
My Dear Sir : — It is with great surprise and pain I
have read the announcement of Mrs. Smyth's death. I
had seen the statement of her illness and the anxiety felt
for her, but it seemed incredible that one Avhom I had
known to be unusually vigorous and active could pass
away so soon.
Allow me to express to you my deep sympathy with
j'ou in your great affliction, and my strong sense of her
great and many excellences, and of the personal friend-
ship which I highly prized. She was in many respects
a rare woman, and in her memory you liave all the com-
fort that bright recollections can give.
I trust that you may also be sustained by those reli-
gious consolations which alone can fill such a void.
Yours most sincerelv,
S. C. BARTLETT.
Pittsfield, January 16, 1885.
Jly Dear Gonrnor : —
You have our heartfelt sympathy in this hour of be-
reavement of one of the noblest of wives. Trust a little
time till you meet.
Tenderly yours,
(Rev.) JOSEPH HARVEY.
40
Dayton, Ohio.
My Dear Friend, Gov. Smyth : —
Mrs. Giinckel just brought me the sad news of the death
of dear Mrs. Smyth. It was a great sliock. She looked
so well, so full of life, the last time I saw her, that I never
connected death with her. Xo words of mine can assuage
your grief, but having passed through the same dread
ordeal, let me commend you to a loving Father who
doeth all things well. May God bless you, and help you
to bear this great attliction, is the prayer of
Your friend,
(Mrs.) ELIZA McDERMOT.
18 Bowdoin Street, Boston,
January 16, 1885.
Dear Gov. Smyth : —
I have just learned of your great atttiction, and I can-
not write all that is in our hearts for you to-day. They
are full of a double sorrow, — for 3'ou, and for the loss of
our dear angel friend. She was so good. My poor
friend, I wish I could tell you how much we feel, but at
such a time words seem worse than useless to assauge
your great grief.
We regret so much not l>eing able to come up, but are
compelled to go to Xew York, where we will be for a
month at the Fifth Avenue theatre. When you feel like
writing let us hear from you. With earnest, heartfelt
sympathy. Your sincere friends,
Mrs. dace AXD REGIXA.
41
U. S. Senate, Washington, D. C,
January 16, 1885.
3Iy Dear Friend : —
I have just seen the intelhgence of the death of Mrs.
Smyth. So very, very sad to me and to every one who
ever knew her, what an overwhehuing afHiction to you !
I feel too deeply for your grief to intrude with words, but
I do hope that you will accept the most earnest sympathy
of Mrs. Blair and myself in this great and irreparable
loss. More tears will consecrate her memory than that
of any woman of the state in her generation. Do not
break under your great load of sorrow. Thousands of
friends will bear you up with the love of full and burst-
ing hearts, and there is always the strong refuge which
you know in the bosom of the everlasting Father of all.
God bless you, my dear, dear friend. It is all lean do.
Sincerely your friend,
HENRY W. BLAIR.
Hon. Frederick Smyth.
Gov. Smyth, —
My Dear Friend : — I cannot refrain from writing you at
this time, to express my deepest sympathy for you in the
great sorrow which has come to you in taking from you
the light of your beautiful home, the idol of your heart.
May you have strength and light from above for the days
which come. I tind no words to express tlie deep sorrow
42
of my own heart as I remember the one who was always
mv friend and adviser. Your srood wife was indeed
queen among women, and without a peer in her noble,
grand, and lovely character. To you she w^as ever}i:hing,
and I realize how much she was to me and mine. I
shall only realize that she is gone when I look upon her
dear face for the last time at her burial. Pardon me for
saying so much, for my heart dictates the words, and
believe me always,
Very truly, your friend,
ABBIE M. HEAD.
(Wife of ex-Gov. Head.)
Boston, January 16, 1885.
Mj Dear Mr. Suvjth : —
Allow me to express my deepest sympathy for you in
your recent afliiction. It was with great pain that we
read of the death of your good wife. I hope you will try
and not feel too much depressed over what we cannot
help, and any time you are in town please give Mr.
Brewster, Mrs. Estabrook and myself a chance to shake
you by the hand.
Yours truly,
A. F. ESTABROOK.
(Brewster, Cobb, & Estabrook, bankers.)
43
Candia, X. H., January 16, 1885.
Dear Uncle Ih'ederick : —
Allow me to offer my sympathy. I grieve, too, over the
loss that has come to us all. I shall not forget the kind-
ness shown me in the i)ast hy Aunt Emily, nor hy you.
Have you read that heautiful hymn, " Lead, Kindly
Light?"' With little change it seems suite<l to you in
these sorrowful days.*
A'ery truly yours,
ELLEX S. EATOX.
Phillips Academy, Axdover, Mass.,
fFanuary 17, 1885.
31 ;i Di'nr Sir : —
Human sympathy is such a help in reaching forth to
the ])ivine tliat I make hold to write a word to you in
view of your recent hereavement, though I can hardly
liope that it will he so much a satisfaction to you as to
myself. I have sach a recollection of ^frs. Smyth's dig-
nity and graciousness of manner, and the sweet accord
which seemed to exist l)etween you in all your plans for
mutual jiap})iness and usefulness to the world, that it is
hard to realize that your lives are henceforth to he no
longer one on earth as heretofore they have heen one, as
hereafter they shall be one in heaven.
The words of eulogy belong to other lips than mine,
*Carilinal Newman'.-? poem will be found at the end of this memorial.
44
but I am permitted to offer a very real and genuine
expression of my sorrow in your sorrow, and to bespeak
for you all the comfort and grace which can come to
stricken hearts from the God of all grace and comfort,
who has for us only thoughts of love and mercy and help.
God bless you, my dear sir, in your grief, and make it
easier to see through the darkness to the light, and from
the grave to the glory unutterable. You will receive a
great many letters. May they all help you in your
sorrow.
Very faithfully yours,
C. f". p. BANCROFT.
Claremont, January 17, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
Dear Afflicted Friend: — The words of sympathy in this
time of your great bereavement are almost idle. Cer-
tainly they are i)Owerless to console. Yet it is riglit that
you should know how keenly your friends do sympathize
with you, and how fully they ap[)reciate the irreparable
loss 3'ou have sustained. Be assured tliat Mrs. Walker
and myself grieve with you, and especially at the unex-
pectedness of the event, and at the thought that we shall
see her lovely face and form no more, who brightened
your life and in whose presence her friends always re-
joiced.
Sincerely and truly yours,
J."^S. WALKER..
45
South Newmarket, January 17, 1885.
Please accept our heartfelt sjiupathy in this, your
deep afHiction. The event was to us wholly unexpected.
Effectual comfort cannot come from man, only from God.
Very truly vours
JAMES H. FITTS.
(Pastor Congregational Chureb, South Newmarket.)
CuNCOKD, January 17, 1885.
My Dmr Sir : —
While on my way home from New York I heard of
the decease of 3'our wife, and was greatly shocked by it.
My heart is full of sympathy for you in this great sorrow.
Having myself been called to drink this bitter cup, I can-
not but be profoundly moved when any friend is sufier-
ing in like manner. It certainly does not fall to the lot
of many men in this world to enjoy the love and loving
companionship of such a rare and noble woman as was
Mrs. Smyth. This nuikes your loss all the greater, but
it will also awaken your gratitude that so great a bless-
ing w{is vouchsafed to you for so long a period in your
litb.
I am convinced that no one can enter into your sor-
row and realize its crushing weight who has not passed
through a similar trial, and that enables me to enter into
your feelings. If the sympathy and kind regard of friends
could ease the pain which fills your heart, your sorrow
would be ([uickly assuaged.
46
From personal experience I know that there is but
one source from which to obtain real comfort and sup-
port, and I pray that He whose infinite love and compas-
sion is able to sustain you, will be your constant help.
I would not intrude into your sorrow, but I could not
refrain from giving you in some way assurance of my
deep sympathy in this, the great sorrow of life.
Most sincerely yours,
L. b. STEVEXS.
(Senator.)
Portsmouth, January 17, 1885.
Of her it may truly be said, my dear Mr. Smyth,
" None knew her but to love her,
None named her but to praise."
Every one is full of her praises and of her kindly acts.
My sister and I have thought of her and of you con-
stantly, and when we learned the sad truth we could not
credit it, so earnestly had we hoped for her recovery.
How we shall miss lier? we always regretted the short-
ness of her visits and trie<l to keep her longer with us.
It was a benediction to have her with us. But you in the
lonely house, no Emma to meet you with pleasant smile
and that look of interest so peculiarly her own, what can
we say ? It is vain to try to comfort you, but we all felt
we must send just a word to let you know our warmest
sympathies are yours. AV"e intended going to assist in
47
the last sad rites, but the weather is so forl)idding and
we should be compelled to stay away all night, so we
must content ourselves with being near her in spirit.
Accept, dear Mr. Smyth, our wannest good wishes that
you may be sustained and comforted in this most griev-
ous atHiction.
Yours most truly and sympathizingly,
KATE MILLER.
(Late Mrs. Frank Miller.)
High School, Gloucester, Mass.,
January 18, 1885.
J/y Dear Sir : —
I am well aware that it is not for the stranger to inter-
meddle in such a grief as yours must be in the loss of so
estimal)le a wife, but I may be pardoned the seeming in-
trusion in my wish to let you know how very helpful she
who has gone was to me at a very critical jtoint of my
life. It was your own courtesy and that of Mrs. Smyth
that led you, on the^ occasion of the return of the New
Hampshire regiments from the war, to meet in a social
way at Concord the oiticers of our regiments. As one
of these, I recall with })leasure the cordial greetings and
hearty good-will of our war governor and the now la-
mented lady who stood by his .^ide. In conversation with
^STrs. Smyth that evening, she asked me what I, a young
an inexperienced otticer, proposed to do next in the
48
world, and when I told her that before entering the ser-
\'ice I had thought some of getting an education, but was
not sure that I could attbrd the time, she seemed in-
spired out of her own interest to urge me to go on with
my original purpose. Her words meant very much to
me, as I have always thought they were the deciding
motive in my choosing a scholar's life.
In later years at Manchester I had occasion to thank
her with all my heart for this timely advice and helpful
word. The sad news of her departure and your own ex-
ceedino; trial has served to recall afresh the debt of crrati-
tude I owe her. If I may put no other tribute to her
worth, I trust that you will allow me this word, poor as
it is, of recognition and thankfulness.
With sincerest sympathy for yourself,
I remain,
A. W. BACHELER.
(Former principal of Manchester High School.)
Candia Village, January 18, 1885.
4 O'CLOCK p. M.
M^ Dear Frederick: —
Allow me to drop the sympathizing tear over the re-
mains of the dear wife of your youth as you lay her
away to remain until the bright morn of the resurrection
shall her and mv dear Sarah brina; forth airain to life.
49
O may wo be ready to greet them to part no more for-
ever! This loss brings fresh to my mind tlie sym}>athy
of yourself and your dear Emily, now almost tliree years
ago, when 1 laid my dear Sarah away, but T trust our
loss is their gain. May we so shape our lives, I say
again, that we ean greet them beyond the river. It will
not be long before we shall go to them as time passes
on. I feci that I am nearing the shore, being past eighty-
one. Trust in God, and believe all things will work
for good to them that love God and keep His eommand-
ments.
^'ours truly,
JOXATHAX MARTIN.
WasiiiN(;ton, January 18, 1885.
J/'/ Dciir S')iroir-Stricl,-< II Friend : —
It is not without reluetanee that I intrude upon the
sacredness of your grief, but I eannot refrain from otter-
ing you the sincere condolence of my wife and myself.
It seems hardly possible that one so large-hearted, so
sympathetic, so usefivl, and so loved, should have thus
been summoned across the dark river. But the ways of
Providence are inscrutable. A few years more, my dear
frieiul, and we shall be relieved from earthly sorrows and
trials, and meet again the loved ones who have preceded
us. My wife joins me in sending you our symjiathy and
love. Faithfully yours,
^r T^ ^ BEX: iM":RLHYrO()KE.
Hon. rREUEKICK >.MYTH.
4
50
Washington, January 18, 1885.
My Dear Governor : —
I noticed in a newspaper that Mrs. Smytli was seriously
ill, and almost immediately thereafter that she had left
you. I have thought what a change and serious blow
this must be to you. It rarely falls to the lot of husl)and
and wife to be so much together as you were, — to travel
together so much, to see, experience, and enjoy so much
in company. This habit will make your life seem all the
more strange and desolate now, and its burden very hard
to bear.
I never speak of the hope of consolation to a friend so
bereaved, it seems like formality if not mockery; but I
give you all my sympathy, and I can certainly s})eak to
you of the universal feeling concerning your wife, that
she was cheerful, helpful, lovable in character and dispo-
sition, in the opinion of those who knew her little or
much. You will have none but tender recollections of
her, exce}>t that you will be prouder than ever of her
noble qualities of mind and heart.
It is thirty-three years, my friend, since you began to
help me start in life. There have been ups and downs,
chances and changes, but nothing which prevents my
heart from going out to you very warmly in this grievous
hour of your great trouble.
Truly yours,
v. E. CIIAXDLKK.
(Secretary of the Navy.)
51
North IIadley, Mass.,
January 18, 1885.
Hon. Fkedekick Smyth, —
31)/ Dear Sir : — I hope it will not secni an intrusion
for me to exi)ress to you my sincerest sympathy for you
in your sore affliction, at this hour when you are prob-
ably laying away the loved form of your sainted dead.
Our Thursday's daily announced the death of your
wife, and a letter from my sister, a parishioner of her
cousin, Rev. J. II. Fitts, of South Newmarket, N. IL,
told the time of her funeral. I do not know that I ever
met you, but have otten wished for the time when I
could accept the kind invitation of Mrs. S. to call on a'OU
when both were at home. This invitation was given
over two years ago, when I called at your residence with
the wife of my cousin, J. C. French, on my way to preach
in Pittstield in memory of our grandmother. (She was
a Lane, and cousin of my father, who died October 27,
1884, at Stratham, N. H.)
My reason for calling and basis of our acquaintance
was our common ancestry in descent from IJea. Joshua
Lane, of Hampton, son of William, and grandson of Wil-
liam, the immigrant in 1650. He (.loshua) was great-
great-grandtather to Mrs. S., myself, and many others.
After kindly showing us over your beautifid grounds
and a large part of the mansion, we went into the library
to see a globe lately purchased rotating by clock-work ;
then, in view of a bust, she asked me if I recognized it as
52
of any one I bad seen. I did not recognize yours but did
hers, and rejoice tbat you bave tbis comfort in your k)ne-
liness. In pictures of Queen Victoria's family group
since Prince Albert's death, I ever notice his bust in the
background. I trust you have a memento which will
seem as precious. And may the strong faith and stead-
fast hope which in an unusual degree have T)een continued
in our (Lane) family line, which I trust was her stay and
statf when she (with the son of God) walked the valley
of the shadow of death, Ije also your comfort till you
come to the meeting-place l)eyond.
Much of our conversation at the time of my call was
upon our ancestry, and my discovery, in the neglected
cemetery at Hampton, of the graves of Dea. Joshua
Lane and wife and probably of his father and mother.
The grave marked " A\". L." we think is of his tather,
because near his own in the same row, one (of his mother,
probably) between, and because in bis diary which I have
he wrote, giving date, this day " my honored father died
at my house." At ^L"s. Smyth's request I afterwards
sent her the direct line of her ancestry to William from
England, and a })lan of the location and position of the
graves in Hampton's oldest cemetery, together with the
strong desire of some of us to see that sacred spot secured
from fast-coming oblivion. I told her of our i»lan, by
contributions from descendants to [ilace a plain but dc-
sii'able granite monument thereto mark those four graves
and tell of the ancestor of the familv.
53
I have l)t'tbre me her iv})]y, in wliich she wrote: " You
are very khid to devote so much tune, hut I assure you
I appreciate and am very i^ratetul for this history of our
ancestry, and also for the plan of their resting-[»lace. I
hope to visit it sometime. My sisters, also, have been
e([ually interested, and would he })leased to meet you.
When our clergymen cousins move in the matter of a
monument to our revered forefathers, I have no doubt
they will find a ready res})onse from many of the numer-
ous Lane tribes, I don't know of any among them who
have great }»ossessions of this world's goods, but I believe
'blood tells,' and so we are rich in the priceless inlierit-
ance of honest, upright, Christian ancestry, and I trust
we are not unmindful of it."
The delicate way in wliich Mrs. y. used our distant
family connection to make me feel at home with her
won my sincere regard. My little l)oy of four summers
rememl)ers Ikiw she let him ride the (statue) pony near
the stable, and when we left we ho[)ed to meet you both
again.
^Nlay your sorrow be softened by the thought of the
treasure once in possession, but now transplanted to await
you in the home above.
Sincerely yours,
*.T()TrX AV. LAXE.
(I'jistor Second Churcli. Uaillcy, Ma<s.)
54
Tamworth, January 19, 1885.
J/y Durr Friciid : —
Words are inadec^uate to express my lieartfelt sympa-
tliy for you in your great bereavement at the loss of your
dear "wife. The sorrow occasioned hy her death pervades
tlie entire community. Slie was beloved by all.
A^ery truly yours,
XATT HUBBARD.
Lancaster, January 19, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
My Dorr Governor: — Mrs. Jordan and myself were
saddened by the intelligence of the death of your most
estimable wife. "We had been nuide aware of her illness,
but in common with her thousands of friends who were
ignorant of the nature of her malady, had hoped the dis-
ease would not prove fatal. AVe both well remember her
kind, benignant, intelligent face, her winning, assuring
manner, and her true, womanly grace and excellence of
character.
Mrs. Jordan, you may recollect, met her at the Twin
Mountain House, and has ever since highly esteemed her.
For years I have known of her as a lovely and loval)le
woman. You have our deep symjiathy in your great
affliction, and in a loss greater by far to you than if all
else had been taken and she left.
Respectfully yours,
Mr. and Mrs. C. B. JORDAX.
00
2^^EWP0RT, January 19, 1885. "^
My Valued Friend : —
Mrs. Adains and myself desire to assure you of our
deep personal sympathy. The accpiaintance of Mrs.
Adams with Mrs. Smyth was brief, but sutticient to com-
mand her highest respect. The news of her sickness
alarmed us, but we hoped and prayed that she might live.
The result realized our worst fears. " Her sun has gone
down while it was yet day." Her preeminent womanly
(jualities, her true Christian spirit and life, her constant
deeds of charity, her intellectual superiority and culture,
her affability of manner, her purity of heart and mind,
her friendship for all classes, greatly endeared her to all
who knew her })ersonally or by reputation, and we keenly
feel tlurt: what she was to you in heart and life, not only
as the companion of your days, but as the sunlight of
your dwelling and the joy of your heart, constitutes a per-
sonal loss to vourself beyond the power of words to
express.
May you have the aid and sustaining power of divine
strength, and be cheered by the certain prospect that
when you shall go over the river you will meet and l)e
with the loved one in the higher life and service to which
she has now been divinely called.
Most truly yours,
(Rev.) ]'\ S. ADA>[S.
56
Newark, ()., January 19, 1885.
3Iy Dear Uncle : —
It is with }»rofoiind sorrow that I liavo heard of the
death of your dear wife, my Aunt Emma. Truly you
have suffered a great affliction. She was my ideal of a
true and noble Avoman. Be assured all who knew her
share in your sorrow ; yet He alone who has called her to
enjoy the reward she justly deserves by a life so nobly
spent, can offer you any consolation.
Think of her as " not dead, but sleeping," waiting to
join you on the other side of the river, never to part again.
All join in sympatliy for you.
Your niece,
ABBY METZ.
Boston, January 19, 1885.
IIox. Frederick Smyth, —
Dear Sir : — It was with a feeliiip" of pain that I read in
the morning paper of the death of the "sharer of your
joys and sorrows."
In the long ago, when I was scarce seventeen, 3'ou
repeated the always sacred words that linked my life witli
the late Isaac Baldwin Ilobbs, and memory has always
] (reserved a very pleasant recollection of her A\ho is gone
while we were awaiting your an-ival ; and so I have
always felt a kindly interest in you both, and though a
strangei', been very glad of your success in life. I, too.
57
know what it means to see the dear one fade from siglit,
because h)ve, however strong, cannot stay the good All
Father's mandate, and so most deeply do I symitathize
with you in this your great bereavement. ] 'lease do not
think me presuming, l)ut believe me, I have always held
you both in kindly remembrance.
Very sincerely,
MAliY k IIOBBS.
New Ipswich, January 19, 1885.
IIox. F, Smyth, —
J/y Diur Sir : — I have just seen the notice of your sor-
rowful berea^'ement. I hasten to tender you my deep,
my heartfelt sympathy in this hour of crushing loneliness.
I do not teel myself gifted as a comforter to im[>art con-
solation to one so suddenly and deeply involved in sor-
row, but there is one whose tender loving-kindness is
assured to the heavy-laden who look to Him for help.
The desolation of your home Avill be more and more
apparent as the days r^iid weeks pass on. I know it all.
Six years to-day since my companion in life's struggles
and trials passed to the higher home ot eternal joy and
»»j^^4- '1^ -T- •?* "I^
In closing, I commend you to Him whose compassions
are very great, and who knows the keenness of your sor-
row, and will heed your tears and cry for help while you
pass the waters of coming l)itter loneliness.
^'^ery truly yours,
^ \VILLIA^r D. LOCKE.
58
The Vendome, Boston,
January 19, 1885.
My Dear Goanwr Sm^th : —
You liaA'e my heartfelt sympathy in the hour of your
great bereavement. I know it all from experience, and
have full knowledge of what you are to endure in the
present and as well in the future, in the loss of your wife.
I reniemher well my lirst interview with Mrs. Smyth at
my liouse in Marlborough street, and in Mrs. Bryant's
lifetime. AVe often spoke of your wife's loveliness of
person and manner. I remember my interview with
Mrs. Smyth during her illness on my calling to pay my
respects at your door in the autumn of last year, and the
fact that she insisted on answering my card in ])erson by
coming down from her sick chamber, and I shall long
carry in my mind the sweetness of exjiression with which
I was welcomed. Words, I know, seem hollow at such
times, but I could not resist addressing you a few lines
of consolation and respect. J^elieve me
Your obliged friend,
GHIDLEY J.V. HKYAXT.
Franklin, January 19, 1885.
Frit, 11(1 SiHf/l/i : —
All(jw me to express my kind and deep symjtathy to
you in conse(jueiice of your recent great bereavement.
To nu' it was unexpected. Your good wife always ap-
peared as the picture of health and long life. I cannot
59
roiilize that we (?luill see no more here in tliis lite that
animated, aetive body, that .smilintj, benevolent counte-
nance, and hear no more the attractive words of that
sweet voice; all lovely traits in the person and character
of your late estimable wife.
But our experience has taught us that ''Death loves a
shining mark," and often, too often, we are apt to think
his relentless arrows are aimed at the useful and strong.
>ray Wf not ho]>e that your loss \\\]] be her gain 't that
tlu' immortal soul — what ^'oung the poet denominates
the " vital spark of heavenly flame"' — yet survives in a
more happy and glorious state of being, in a higher
sjdiere of existence? lievelation teaches us, that when
man was created the Almighty breathed into him the
breath of life. Must we not belie\'e that this inspiration
from the Almighty embraces not only the short lives
allowed to humanity here, but also the immortal, intel-
lectual life allotted to the just nuide }terfect, or to the
angels ill heaven':' Tome the promise is very comfort-
ing, that there is a plaee of rest, where sin and sorrow can-
not come. " In my Father's house are many mansions,"
all titted and prejiared for those who may enjoy them.
The duty is enjoined upon us to sfrirc while here to obtiiin
an inheritaiiee in these heavenly places. Our severe
attiictions visit us as reminders of oiii- mortality as well as
of duties to be performed.
Xow I think of your wife as in the full enjoyment of a
heavenly }>lace, the glory of whieli the eye has not seen
60
nor the ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of
mortals here to conceive of; therefore be comforted.
" Blessed are those who monrn, for the}' shall he com-
forted; '' so says our Divine Master.
A British poet prepared an epitaph for a deceased lady,
his heloved friend. It was in these words: —
"Here sleep in dust and wait the Almighty's will,
Then rise unchanged and be an angel still.*'
I ado}>t the sentiment for your wife, amended, that she
rose as the angel the moment this mortality put on immor-
tality. The poet Collins wrote a sweet verse in hehalf of
one of his deceased female friends: —
" Each lonely scene shall thee restore.
For thee the tear be duly shed ;
Beloved till life could charm no more.
And mourned till pity's self be dead."'
I remeniher you ha\"e already a heautiful monument
jirepared of your wife in one of your rooms. This she
(k served. But he a.-^sured her many virtues and }>urity
of life have erected durable monuments in the hearts of
many Iriends who knew her worth. My wife, now on
her sick bed, and destined to follow your own soon,
wislies me t(^ express her sympathy with you on this
oecasioii.
Truly ever,
G. AV. XESMITH.
61
Daktmuuth CoLLE(iK, Juiiiuiry 10, 1885.
Hon. Fkkdkkick Smyth, —
Dear Friend: — Pardon me for wisliing to tell you how
sincerely I feel for you in your great atHictioii. From
what I have been called to meet myself I know too well
what such a bereavement means; the very heavens are
clouded, and the whole earth is made a desert. But there
is one tliinii;, — we can now enshrine them as never l)efore
in our ap})reciation, esteem, and love. Their numberless
excellences and jU'iceless charms take on a perfection
greater than ever. These dearest ones of our lives, — we
at last do them better justice ; and may we not trust that
lie who fully knows their hearts and ours, supremely
loving them and sym}»athizing with us, may ever com-
municate to them the knowledge of this worthier, deei>er
love of ours for them V Certainly we do know that
lie is in every way advancing their happiness, and Avill
far transcend our best imaginings of what will give them
joy; and let us ever, amidst our overwhelming sense of
loss, pray and endeavor to be grateful for \\'hat they now
sliare, and for all th-ey were to us when on earth. Per-
haps, too, the precious links which have bound them so
blessedly Xo us on earth, will seem in time no less precious
because the other end of the golden chain is now in
heaven, ^[rs. Smyth's death has brought afresli to uiy
mind and heart the death of her brother Richard, tlie one
of all my college classmates who I think loved me best,
and whose death I cease not to this dav to feel and to
62
lament. How blessed must the meetiuo; be of kindred
and friends in that better world, while there will also be
the pouring" forth of endless gratitude for immortality
and salvation to Him who hatli redeemed us by His blood,
and is the resurrection and the life.
I remain, dear friend,
kSincerely and truly yours,
H. E. PAKKEK.
(Professor at Dartmoutli Colleg'c.)
DovEK, January 20, 1885.
31;! Di-ny Goceri'ior : —
I notice with sadness the decease of your dear wife.
Please accept my sincere sympathy for you in your great
attiietion. I realize fully what it is. My good father
died December 25.
"With the kindest regards
I remain sincerely yours,
CHARLES A. TUFTS.
Camptox, .January 20, 1885.
71/y Dear Friend: —
I most deeply sympathize with you in your very great
sorrow. Years ago I passed through the same furnace,
so that I know from experience how to feel for you.
"^'our wife was to you no common hel}»mate. From all
63
I hud ever rseeii of her and from all I heard, she wan a lady
of rare attainments, and nseful in a)l tlie walks of life.
Bnt, my dear sir, you will miss her as no other can.
As the days come and go you will feel her loss as no one
can tell. "Plow lonely! " you will say, as you return to
your home day after day. Xo one now to share your
joys and help bear your burdens, as she could. If you
had plans to mature and carry out, who so ready to assist
and advise as she? Your most tried and confidential
friend is gone. How lonely now the house, how dark
the very road seems to you, now tlie great earthly burden-
bearer of your life has passed away!
But, my dear triend, I do not write thus to make still
deeper the wound in your heart already made, but to
give you some little evidence of my deep interest in you
in this your sore trial, and more especially to ask you to
look u[)to the great heavenly Burden-Bearer, for He says,
" Come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest." ^'es, there /'c.' rest in Jesus. Does not
hea^'en now seem more attractive than ever before ? May
not this be a divine call to a higher and a brighter conse-
cration in the service of the dear Master?
Let me assure you there is joy in believing and peace
in .Tesus. Will you sutler me to give you one kind word
of advice now in this your great need ? It is this: Go
to Jesus ill your closet, and tarry there till you shall feel
His presence lighting u}> your very pathway. Xo earthly
hope or prop satisties now, but Jesus says, " In me ye
64
shall have peace." O that blessed peace ! may it be yours.
Please accept these few lines of sympathy and kind ad-
vice from
Your true friend,
W. G. BROWX.
(Agent N. H. Bible Society.)
U. S. Senate, Wasiiin(;ton, D. C,
January 20, 1885.
J7'/ iJi'n- S'r: —
I have learned with deep regret of the recent death
of Mrs. Smyth. It was entirely unexpected, though I
thought at the time J was at your house last autumn that
she was not in her usual health. Mrs. Pike joins with
me in sending you our condolence and deepest sympathy
for your great l)ereavement.
I reuutin ycjurs most respectfully,
AUSTIX F. PIKE.
Hux. Fkederick Smyth.
Lawrence, Kan., January 20, 1885.
Ex-Guv. Smyth, —
Bihii-ul Sn' and Frktnl : — A }tostal card froui our
daughter, Mrs. E. B. Payne, s}icaks of Mrs. Siuyth's
death. Is it so ? That excellent lady, your admirable
wife, called away, and you to walk alone I
65
I liasteii to send my lieurtie.st 8ynii):itliy uiul (lee[)est
contribution of love in tliis your great l)ereavenient. Had
I not walked a similar pathway (1862), I should hardly
feel that I could say one word under a trial so very great.
How again she comes to me as I recall her handing me
her large woolen shawl on the ship the first night out
from Ik'vroot as I was al)Out to cam[i on deck, and I see
her as she sat in the studio in Home, as she talked to me
as the artist was turning her womanliness into marble.
Again she comes to me as I sit at your table in your own
house, from whence she has just been taken out.
Jt was infinite love that gave her to you, and the same
love has taken her. Be comforted, dear sir, He makes
no mistakes. His name is love. Could you write me u
little concerning her sickness and death ? 1 shall value
it so much.
Most fraternally and under much obligation,
(Rev.) H. K. BUKXELL.
Xasiiua, .January 23, 1885.
J/y J)f<(r Goccnior tSm^/th : —
The sad news of your great loss was to me like a }»er-
sonal bereavement. Xo one eould meet Mrs. Smyth
without yielding at onee to the charm of her sweet pres-
ence. Her nature was so flower-like that it drew out the
best that was in one, and attracted it to itself as a flower
draws sunshine. Althou<di 1 am one of the vounirest and
66
latest of her friends, I am none the less unwilling to re-
lin([uish my claim to that title, and shall always carry in
the holy of holies of my memory the rememhrance of
her kindness and cordiality to me. The recollection of
that sunny May-day, which was made especially sunny
to me by being passed constantly at her side, is among
my most delightful memories. I still keep a flower she
wore, which she gave me at parting as a souvenir of our
pleasant time together.
I send you this, not in an impossible hope of attempt-
ing to offer the least consolation to such grief as yours,
V)ut l^ecause of a natural impulse to tell you how dear slie
Avas to even me, a young, lately made friend, and how
far the gentle influences of her life extended, that she
could make even one chance meeting on an unimportant
occasion memorable because of her presence, and l)ecause
her gentle loveliness illumined it.
My grandmamma, who has known and ]<)ve<l Mrs.
Smyth for many years, is too distressed to attempt at
present the etlbrt of sending you any expression of lier
sympathy except through me, and she desires me to tell
you how truly and sincerely she sympatliizes with you,
and that she speaks as cnie liaving had a Intter experience
of the same nature in the loss of her dear husband.
Believe me to be, dear Governor Smyth, with most
earnest sympathy.
Yours very sincerely,
' Axxs. G. xoyp:s.
67
Boston, January 20, 1885.
My Dear Governor : —
I have learned througli the papers of the great sorrow
that has come upon you, and I find it ahiiost impos-
sible to believe that she who was like sunshine to all who
knew her will no longer gladden us with her presence.
My heart goes out to you with a great throb of sympathy,
which I have hesitated to express, but I loved her also.
You have the comfort of knowing that you made her
hajipy, and tliat the world is better for her having lived
in it. The General joins me in sorrow and sympathy.
Very sincerely yours,
(Mrs.) P]LIZABETH L. TILTOK
Hanover, January 24, 1885.
Governor Smyth, —
Dcdr Si)' : — I am following out the promptings of my
heart even at the risk of intruding upon you, but I wanted
to assure you, in writing you, of the deep 'interest and
sympathy I have had for you at this sad time. I cannot
realize at all that such a sorrow has come to your life
and home. I had no knowledge that Mrs. Smyth was
not in her usual health until the pa}»ers told us of her
illness and death. I would like to know something more
if I might. It seems such a strange Providence that
could take her so (juickly from so much in life that was
happy and bright. This m\stery of death, of God's ways
68
not our ways, the separation of those whose joy is life
together, is all past our comprehension here. Only faith
can help us to struggle on through the shadowed way
here to light and life hereafter.
I remember so well the first time I met your wife, of
the merry time here fifteen years ago. Memory brings
up the beautiful face and winsome manner of the lovely
woman every one called charming. The }»leasant cour-
tesies from you and her to myself and husband will never
be forgotten. I liad hoped sometime to see her again ;
now our meeting will never be here. It is all very, very
sad, and I know your life is desolated; but sometimes in
our deepest grief we are glad to know friends remend)er
us, and it is that which has urged me to write you these
few words. I never had the happy faculty of saying the
right word in the right place, and I can bring no words
of comfort other than those I am sure you know, ' He
doth not willingly aftiict,'' and He only can bind up the
broken heart.
Your sincere friend,
(Mrs.) SARAH C. BLAXPIED.
IJusTON, January 25, 1885.
Mj Dear Gorcrnor : —
I cannot withhold the expression of my sympathy in
your great Ijereavemeiit. You have passed beneath tlie
69
great Hlmdow, and I know Avhat it is to lia\X' tlio sun
withdraw its li<i:lit. Your wife was in every sense a most
remarkable woman. No one knew lier but to respect
and love her. ller influence was felt in (.-very society of
which she was a part, and entered largely into circles
where her presence was never known.
I give you my heart-felt sympathy. I know it is a
poverty-stricken gift to a bereaved and afflicted man, but
that, with my earnest prayer for the blessing of God to
comfort you, is all I can bestow.
Very sincerely yours,
DANIEL XEEDHAM.
Lynx, Mass., January 25, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
Dear Sir : — We learn with sorrow that sad news from
your home. The death of your estimable wife is deeply
regretted l)y all who knew her, and having no other
means of ex[)ressing our regard for her memory we send
these few lines. Her, uol)le character and kiiul consider-
ation for all won our love at once. Wc foel the same
toward yourself. The kindness shown us will never be
forgotten ; and we trust that the numy friends you have
around you, who have shared the burdens of your busy
life, will be spared to make the declining years of your
life ha}ipy. Like a dewdro}* or a sunbeam we would
add our little mite, and though we nuiy not be distin-
70
guished among the many rays of love's sun you feel
and see, we will be there with a loving warmth all the
same. We have thought of you often and of Col, Water-
man Smith, who was so kind to us during your absence
in Europe. Please tell him of our love and remem-
brance.
Yours truly,
William" stirlixg.
(For a time the farmer in cliarge at " Tlie Willows.")
National Soldiers' Home, Dayton, 0.,
January 26, 1885.
Gov. Frederick Smyth, —
Mij Dear Sir and Frknd : — We were greatly shocked
to learn of the death of your beloved wife. We had not
heard of her illness, and this added greatly to our sur-
prise. My dear Governor, what shall I say by way of
comforting you ? I know so well the [)Overty of words
to relieve when our dear ones are taken away by the
hand of relentless death. I can only commend you to
the consolations of the gospel of our own dear Saviour,
in which you have l)elievcd and trusted. It is too true
that our loved ones cainiot come to us again, and that
we shall see then no more on earth, but there is a bright
side to all this sorrow. While we weej) and are incon-
solable, they are indescribably happy. ]]lear Mrs. Smyth
now walks the streets of the Xew Jerusalem, and dwells
71
in the "city that hath foundations, whose maker and
builder is God," and there she awaits your coniing. Let
the sweet hope of meeting your loved one cheer you even
in those dark hours. 0 liow I wish I could say just one
word that would relieve your stricken heart ! My wife
and children tearfully join me in ex|)ressions of tenderest
sympathy, and most earnestly entreat the loving Father
whom you serve to bless and comfort you.
Sorrowfully and lovinglv,
WILLIAM EARXSHAW.
(Cliaplain.)
Dei't. of Agrici^lture, AVashington,
January 27, 1885.
My Dear GoccrKor : —
I have learned with great sorrow the loss you have sus-
tained ])y the departure of your good wife. I know her
true merit, her devotion to you, the wise sujtport she gave
you, and the high place she filled in the circle of her
friends. You alone can realize the loss of one who has
been your life-long companion, but lean sympathize with
you, and I know well how cold and bare the world seems
when the friend of your heart is taken away.
Truly your friend,
' ^GEORGE r>. LORIXG.
(Coiiiiiiissioiier.)
72
Denvkk, Col., January 27, 1885.
I liave heard to-day of the death of Mrs. Smyth, wiiich
was entirely unexpected, not knowing of lier illness. I
beg to express my sincere s3-mpathy u}>on your great
bereavement, and to remind you that in the o])iniori of
all who knew her she did her duty, and fought the good
tight well, leaving a record of true nobility unexcelled by
any lady in the history of Xew iram}>shire.
A'cry truly yours,
"^R. AV. WOODBTRA'.
(PresicSent of Denver Bourtl of Trade.)
IIoMEViLLK, C'. B., January 26, 1885.
J)((ir Governor : —
I su}ipose no words of sym[)atliy can comfort you in
the hour of trial. IFow can I realize that Mrs. Smyth
has ])een called away from you to a better world I How
sad you must fee! I ^'ou ha\-e my heartfelt sympathy,
and I am so sorry I was not there to see her before she
died, r shall never forget her many kind words and
looks and acts to me. I loved her next to mother, and
no greater friend I had than she. AVhy did God call her
away so soon, wiien she was so much needed here? But
God's ways are mysterious, and we must say, His will be
<lone. I have many things to thank Mrs. Smyth for, and
maii\- iritts to remendjer her bv. Mav (^od sustain and
kt't'}) you ill tliis dark lioiir of trial and affliction, and
may we all strive to nioet lier in heaven. l)iit it" words
tail to ex[»ress my teeliiiii'. what must yoiir.s l)e ? I jiray
you live in the hope of meeting her again ; she has only
gone hetbrt', and will meet you there. We all send heart-
felt sympathy, — father, mother, and the others.
AVith my hest regards,
blllUSTIXA HOLMES.
(Ilousekeopor lor INfrs. Smyth iiiiuiy years.)
Manchester, January :>1, 1885.
Jjcar S/'f : —
We feel that we cannot let this great attiictioii and loss
come to you without expressing our sympathy as old
frieiuls. A\^3 who have known, admired, and loved her
all these years, feel that what has heen said and written
in regard to her is all true, and we wish, now that the tirst
great shock of parting is o\'er, to say we gi\e you most
heartfelt symjiathy.
Mk. "am. Mrs. HEXJAMIX KIXSLEY.
Daytox, ()., danuary 27, 188.").
J/'/ I)i(ir (r<ir. Siiiijth : —
I am deeply pained at the word which has just reached
me of the death of niv dear friend, vour sweet wife. I
74
feel as though I liad lost one of my own, and cannot
express how much I am grieved. Mv husband joins me
in sympathizing with you in your great atHiction.
Believe me your sincere friend,
(Mrs.) KATE ^V. GUI^CKEL.
(Wile of Gen. Gunckel )
MoBERLY, Mo., January 28, 1885.
Gov. S.MY'JII, —
Kind Sir : — Your sad letter of the 21st received yes-
terday. AVords cannot express my feelings when I
learned the sorrowful news. Memory carried me back to
the time when all was dark and gloomy; when she came
to me as an angel ; and I shed one scalding tear to her
dear memory which I shall carry with me to tlie grave.
I am truly grateful to you foi- remend)ering me.
Tlii.s note so interested the recipient that he immediately forwarded the
request alluded to in the letter which follows : —
MoBEKLY, Mo., February 16, 1885.
Guv. Frederick ^>myth, —
JJtar Sir: — Your letter of February 4, was received
by due course of mail. I thank you for your expressions
of regard, and reci[)rocate the kindness you feel. You
ask me to detail the circumstances under which I met
your wife, and the causes which led me to esteem her so
highlv. Tlie tale is a short one. On the 7t]i day of
75
December, 1881, I was iiremaii on a freiglit train running
into Kansas City. At a point (Jiock Creek) between
Kansas City and Independence an accident happened to
the train on wliich I was employed (rear-end collision),
by which I received very severe and what appeared to be
fatal injuries. I was taken back to Independence, where
the surgeons cared for me and did what they could to
stanch the tiow of blood and ease my suffering. Mrs.
Smyth was on board a train going east from Kansas City,
which was detained for several hours by the accident to
the freight train. It arrived at Independence about the
time the surgeons had finished Innding uj* my wounds,
and I was placed on board and in the sleeper in which
Mrs. Smyth had taken passage. To her I was a perfect
stranger, of course, but the sight of suffering and distress
stirred the deepest sympathies of a luiturally sympathetic
heart, and no mother ever ministered to the wants of her
wounded son with more tender devotion than did ^Irs.
Smyth to mine. Every little act of kindness that a
woman's gentle and affectionate nature could suggest was
lavished u[»on a poor fireman Avhom she had never seen
nor even heard of before. My home is in Mexico, Mo.,
a distance of about one hundred and fifty miles from
Independence, and during all that distance, neglecting
the sleep and rest her age and physical weakness required,
she gave me every attention that my own mother could
possibly have shown. Is it any wonder, then, that I cher-
ish a sense of gratitude for her kindness and deep affec-
76
tion for her nieiuorv ? 8uch attentions to a stranger from
a woman in her station were sufticient to awaken the live-
liest emotions, and to cause the recipient to feel that life
is worth the living : that all are not cold and heartless,
and the world is not a desert without an oasis. I shall
ever remember her as a guardian angel, a true Samaritan
whose good deeds went u[> as sweet incense to the throne
of the Most Higli.
Thanking you for your ex[)ressions of regard, I am,
Yours trul}-,
FRANK r>. CRADDOCK.
Xewpokt, January 30, 1885.
iJiiir Sir 'i/iil Fi'it ihI : —
AVe, tlie undersigned, re})resenting the organizations
named helow, wish to express our heartfelt sympathy for
vou in the loss of your companion, whom to know was to
esteem and love.
May the great Friend and Father of us all comfort and
l)less you.
(Signed)
E. M. KEMPTOX,
CHARLES ][. LITTLE,
OnniiiiiUr of FmL Snu/th I'o^i Ao. 10.
M. S. AVALDROX,
T. F. PUTXAM,
A. IT. KEMPTOX,
0>nniiittt:t of FrCil. Siiii/f/> lidnf (JorpS No. 7.
WashiN(;to.\, February 1, IHSf),
J/y Deur GorcrKor Smyth: —
I have just lieard of your great atilictiou through the
iie\vs|iai>er sent my father, an<l I cannot resist writing and
telling you how much I also loved Mrs. Smyth, and that
all my sym[)athies are with you. It was such a shock, as
I did not even dream tliat she was ill. I know liow hadly
hoth my father and mother will feel when they hear the
sad tidings. They have been South for two weeks, and
father imj»roving all the time.
I pray God that he will help you in this your terrible
atfliction, and remend)er tliat I loved her.
Always very sincerely yours,
MAKV F. WAFFF.
(Diiugliter of Cliief-Iusticc Wuite.)
LoAVKLL, Mass, Feb. 1, 1885.
J/y Dcor Goi't mur Smi/tli : —
On my return from "Washington 1 was inexpressibly
grieved to learn for the first time of the <leath of your
most amiable and lovely wife, aiul, my dear friend, it
was a blow for which I was not prepared, even by knowl-
edge of dangerous illness. I had heard of Mrs. Smyth's
sickness in the early autumn, l)ut had also heard of what
I had supposed to be her recovery. Christmas morning
I received her and your most kindly teleithonic message
at my house, so like you both that I rejoiced in ajipre-
78
ciation of your kindly friendship. I have been through a
like terrible Ijereavement ; but even that has not gifted
me with words of consolation, or with phrases with which
to alleviate deep sorrow. At such a time words are sim-
ply mockery. They address themselves to the intellect
and to reason. But what do they do when the heart is
torn and every heart-string broken ; when the present
life is misery made torture by vivid remembrance of all
that was, and is loved and lost ? Time, alas ! is the only
healer ; but even that remedy is useless if you give it not
opportunity, which I fear you will not do. Largely with-
drawn from the cares of business, with too nmch leisure, —
for you will use it in brooding over remembrances that
will simply stinmlate grief, — you will give time no oppor-
tunity to do its kindly promised work in your behalf.
I pray you, therefore, my dear friend, to plunge into
some occupation, some aifair that shall be urgent and
exacting, which will command your withdrawal from
self-introspection. This is the advice, I am sure, the
clear intellect and loving heart of her who has gone
would give you could she return to guide your steps to
ha}>[)iness as she has so long done.
])o not yourself feel that withdrawing your mind from
your great loss is an injustice or wrong to her, or forget-
fulness of her great worth. I may venture to imagine
that she herself — if those who are gone are permitted to
deal with earthly matters — would not so view the course
of action I pro}iose. Honor her memory l)y alleviating
79
yourt<orro\v at her loss by every possible means. "Would
she not do everytliing to that end in regard to a sorrow
for any other loss, if she were with you ?
Why not, then, nuike distraction from poignant grief, in
which she would not fail to aid you, a means of, in some
degree, the continuing of her loving-kindness for these so
many years? Ponder upon this, my friend, and see if I
am not in the right; and I may hope that health and
strength will be spared us to meet soon to exchange views
upon this matter face to face, — not that our joy may be
full, but that our grief may be less.
Very truly, your friend,
BEXJ. F. BUTLER.
Gov. Frederick Smyth,
Manchester, N. H.
Newton Highlands, Mass.,
February 3, 1885.
Dear Uncle Frederick : —
I would like you to know how much I do feel the loss
of my dear Aunt Eiiiily. She was very dear to me, and
has always done so much to nuike my life happier, to
help me in many ways. With her large, warm heart it
was natural for her to be kind and pleasant to all, to
cheer them l)y her words and ever })leasant looks and
deeds. But }ierhap3 it was not always easy for her to do
this, as she nuiy have had many cares and trials tliat we
80
did not know ot". It is not easy for any one to always
have a cheerthl face, to s[)eak kindly, and to do the good
deed, and it is rare to find sncli an one. I think nmcli
now of the times past when I have heen with her and niy
other annts, the happiest times of my life, and think that
perhaps she and they did not know that I so much appre-
ciated all that they have done for me, all that they have
been to me. Xow that I cannot speak to her, I am afraid
that she did not know how much I loved her. Let me
tell this to you. I shall talk to my children of her, try-
ing to have them remend)er her, and if my daughters
would grow u[» to he such a blessing to the world as she
has lieen, we shall be very glad.
^'ou must learn to love to think of her in that new and
ha[)}ty home, though the years of waiting before you can
sec her must seem too long to be endured. My husl)and
and I feel much for you in your desolation, and hope that
after a time you may be able to take up your life, though
broken, and carry it on to the end, — to the reunion.
"S'<»ur very affectionate niece,
MAliv A. PKEXDKHGAST.
J'ORT Hoi'E, February 3, 1885.
p].\-(4uv. Smyth, —
J/y J)(<tr Sir : — I extend to you my lieartfelt sympathy.
1 remain, my dear sir, your friend,
.MAG(;iK P,rTTKKFIFJ;i).
81
Manchester, February 3, 1885.
Dear Goc. S/Hj/lh : —
I should have called to oft'er you my synii)athy in your
great sorrow, but I have been ill in bed since Christmas.
I asked Xellie to open the window in an adjoining room
so that I could hear the chimes as they played a requiem
to one so dearly loved. My dear Governor, believing in
immortality and the resurrection of the dead, so you will
again see the beloved. Her hand will unlock the pearly
gate to show you her heavenly homo.
" They err who tell us love can die.
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.
Its holy flame forever burneth,
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth."
(Mrs.) C. a. SAXDERSOX.
Bri(4HT0N, Eng., February 3, 1885.
J/y Dorr Gov. Smyth : —
I have just heard through a letter from Concord of the
death of your wife, and I hasten to tell you how deeply
I sympathize with you in this sore troul)le that has come
upon you, and I pray that God may give you grace to
bear it. You may remend^er that at one time I saw Mrs.
Smyth very often, and I thought a great deal of her, and
I had every reason to believe she reciprocated the feeling.
6
82
My dear father, too, was always interested in her, and
would ask nie in my frequent visits to him in Providence,
" How is Mrs. Governor Smyth ? " and would invariably
add, " She is a great woman," which with him expressed
a great deal. I sent you and Mrs. Smyth last summer a
memorial of him, hut suppose you never received it, as
I lieard nothing from you to that effect. And now the
l)ond that has so long bound you and your wife together
in the holiest ties is forever broken in this world, but to
be carried on in that world where all is light and love
and joy. My esteem for her was very great. May our
divine Lord have you in His holy keeping.
Sincerely yours,
JANE A. EAMES.
(Wife of ttie late Dr. Eames of Concord.)
Washington, February 4, 1885.
3I;i Dear 3Ir. Sntijth : —
For two weeks I have waited to write you a few lines
to say how much we feel for you in your great sorrow,
and yet I have put it off each day because I feared you
would be over-run witli just such letters and weary of
reading them. "We have thought of you often and talked
of you much.
There is nothing we can say to lighten your suffer-
ings, but we wanted you to know you had our heart-felt
.>^ympathies. Yours very sincerely,
MAKY STEARNS BROOKE.
(Wife of Gen. Brooke.)
83
State Board of Health, Lunacy, and Charity,
Boston, February 9, 1885.
Dear Sir : —
The respect uiul sympathy of the Board is extended to
you in your l)ereaveinent. The Tioard also desires to
convey to you its sense of its own loss, remembering the
willing and efficient services rendered to this common-
wealth by the late Mrs. Smyth while auxiliary visitor.
Respectfully yours,
JOHX I). WELLS, Clerk.
TiLDEN Ladies' Seminary, West Lebanon,
Governor Smyth, - February 4, 1885.
Dear Sir : — I have but recently learned of the great
grief which has come to your heart and life, and I beg
to tender you my sympathy. I can understand your
loss but in a small degree, but I can see what a great
change has come to you. I have been thinking of you
both as in Florida, and hoping all good things for Mrs.
Smyth, l)ut I suppose you didn't go. It will be no small
grief to me that I can never look into her cheery face
again here, but I hope to hereafter, and the time cannot
be long for any of us. This thought and the hope of
Christian faith will help to make the coming years a little
less hard. I wish it were in my i)0wer to do something
to help you, but I know how weak are words at such a
84
time, and how little I have to otter besides words. I
think of her as your companion more than most wives
are companions of their husbands, she was able to go
with you so much and to enjoy what you enjoyed.
Now that she is done with earthly joys and has laid down
her earthly burdens and left you to bear alone whatever
life has in store for you, I trust your courage will not
fail in the good works in which she took delight, and in
which her willing heart and hand stayed yours up. May
the dear Heavenly Father strengthen you and comfort
you in every good work as only such a comforter can, till
he calls you again to her side. Mrs. Barlow joins me in
good wishes and sympatliy.
Yours cordially,
E. HUBBARD BARLOW.
(Principal.)
Beloit, Wis., February 5, 1885.
Dear Friend. .- —
You will not, I trust, deem it out of place for me to
extend to you my heartfelt sympathy in the trial through
which you are called to pass. It is, I think, an expe-
rience which none can realize in any other way than to
}»ass through it. Words are meaningless only as they
discover the heart that prompts them ; and as I read a
few days ago an account of that Sabl)ath afternoon, and
the description given by Dr. S}>alding of your " loved
85
one gone before," that iiching void coming to your l)reast,
these (luys revived so distinctly my experience in 1882,
that I felt I must let you know that I could share it.
On the morning of the 6th of A})ril of that year, with-
out warning, a kindred spirit was called from my side to
take its liight from eartli, and I was left as you are, in the
sense of being alone, which I saw beautifully expressed
in a poem* written by H. W. Longfellow in 1861, after
the death of his wife, which found its way into the " Inde-
pendent," and was copied in the " X. H. Statesman."
Again tlie same day I picked up the account of the
Londonderry celel)ration in 1869, and accidentally my
eye fell on the sketch there given of you, and saw that
you were born the same day I was, March 9, 1819, and
that you were married the same' year we were, but Mrs.
H. was l»orn February 8, 1821. So your tie lasted two
and three-fourths years more than mine.
As I look back over life it seems a mystery, but am
often led to exclaim, " All is well done," and can feel
assured our God makes no mistakes.
With sincere sympathy yours,
J. A. HOLMES.
Hiawatha, Kax., February 9, 1885.
3Li Diw Frkixl : —
Tliough nuiny miles away, I weep ■with you over the
loss of vour beloved wife and mv dearest la<lv friend.
room wiU be found at the con-micnccmont of tlr.s volume.
86
She held a place in my heart next to mother, dearer than
any aunt (except one).
How could we bear to have her taken, except that we
feel that it is better for her ? but for us, — there is a void
which no other can fill.
She was my ideal of a true woman. I never was with
her but I felt benefited and had a higher sense of the
duties of a woman's life. Many are the happy hours she
has made for me. That house seemed to be my house
also. I am so glad I saw her and had a parting kiss from
her last summer. I want her photograph very much to
place beside yours. I never had one of her except one
taken twent}^ years ago.
You have the sympathy of a large circle of friends in
your bereavement. You may feel sure I sorrow most
for lier who was so dear. May we all meet there.
Ever your true friend,
HELEX JEFFERS.
150 Madison Street, Chicago,
February 11, 1885.
Bcloced tilr and Friend : —
Had I not walked a similar pathway I should not feel
that I could say anything to you in this the hour of your
great bereavement. He whose name is love can make no
mistake. Love gave and love hath taken away. I am
very grateful indeed that my life has been enriched by
87
some acquaintance with your departed wife. It is said
that travel tests character; with hej* my acquaintance was
hirgely at sea and in the cities of Asia Minor. Taking
ship at Beyroot for Constantinople I took a third-class
ticket. Prof. Porter went out with me into the offing to
introduce some one on board who could speak English.
Xo one could be found, and he returned to the shore
leaving me among a great crowd of Arabs, Turks, Jews,
and Mohammedans, and every square foot of the deck
was covered by some one who like me held a deck
ticket. We were not long in discovering tlie English-
speaking chief engineer, to whom we made known that
we were making a tour of the world in Christian work
on nine hundred dollars, and he most kindly interviewed
the captain, who at once gave orders that I be assigned
to the cabin deck. This practically made of me (in loca-
tion) a cabin passenger. Among the first in my ac-
<iuaintance-making were yourself and Mrs. Smyth. It
was but natural that the captain's kindness should be
spoken of, and how and why I was making the world's
tour. To sleep on, that cabin deck was no trouble to
me, but a great favor. How distinctly Mrs. Smyth's
expression comes to me now as she said : " You are
not to sleep on this deck all night?" "Certainly," I
replied, "it is a })rivilege that I prize very highly."
" Suppose it storms ? " " Why then the gangways are
allowed for use to some extent." When she arose to
go l)elow to lior state-room, she handed me her large
88
woolen blanket-shawl saying, " It may possibly be in
demand during the night." While memory lasts I
shall not forget her thoughtful kindness that my nights
in the open air on the Mediterranean might be made
comfortable.
In our five days on the steamer in the Grecian Archi-
pelago, four in Constantinople, five in Athens, seven in
Rome, two in Venice, and a half-day at old Smyrna, my
opportunities could scarcely have been better to have ob-
tained a pretty close view of one's inner life. At Sm^-rna
you, my dear sir, will remember that we visited the house
of a lady missionary (Mrs. West), and how deeply inter-
ested Mrs. Smyth was. She asked many questions con-
cerning her work, and the missionary woman not only
felt that they were dictated l)y an interest in that work,
but also by a sincere personal regard for herself
This was true of her as she impressed herself upon me.
In such leisure as is incident to sea travel, I was led to
tell her of my endeavors in evangelistic work for nearly a
(juarter of a century, in all sorts of places, in all varieties
of army experience, in the dark places in cities, in open-
air ndssions, etc., etc., in all of whicli she evinced a per-
sonal interest. You will remember our attempt at a
Sa1)bath service on the Mediterranean when so many
of the passengers were Mohammedans, which in the end
we did not have, and how very much slie regretted it.
As she sat in the studio at Rome for her bust, I was
delighted and jirofited Ity her conversation. Fearing lest
Tniiii'lit disturb the artist in liis niodolinfr T said: "T must
89
leave or you will get worked into clay and so into marble
as you appear by the fireside at home, or as T have seen
you on shi[>1>oar(l." With her eharminii; smile she re-
plied : " That's exactly what I want to he ; what I am at
home in the details of domestic life, wliat I am as I jour-
ney, what I am with my friends, and would be to every
one.'' Noticing a line or two in her face indicative of
the approach of middle age, I said : " The speaking mar-
ble must show those lines," " Of course," she laughingly
replied, " they indicate character."
My last interview was at your l)eautiful home on the
banks of the Merrimack, What a royal welcome she
gave ! IIow she talked with you at the office through the
telephone I How cheery and bright, companionable and
friendly, was the table talk ! I remember the face of the
old Jersey cow on the wall and what she said of her value;
and after dinner she took me leisurely from room to
room, and she discoursed with an artist's eye, a mechan-
ic's skill, and a i)ainter's taste of the hard-wood finishing,
the paintings on the wall, and the ornamental ceilings.
As a character sli^ grew upon me, and, my stricken
friend, I, too, suffer a personal loss, and shall always be a
})ersonal and sincere mourner.
Ts that old gray blanket-shawl that she loaned me on
the ^^editerranean in existence? If so (and you can
spare it), [tlease hand it to me in her name, and I will
carry it while I travel, ever cherishing her menK)rv,
Most sincerely,
K. A.'tU'KXELL.
90
QuiNCY, III., February 12, 1885.
My Dear Governor : —
I have just opened the paper sent me, containing notice
of the death of Mrs. Smyth, and am much shocked and
saddened at the intelUgence. It wouhl be useless for me
to speak of the depth of your affection, tliough my short
acquaintance served to show me tlie strength of your
mutual attachment and dependence. I must, however,
mention one instance wliich seems more than a coinci-
dence. Before leaving home this morning, and before I
had the paper referred to, I was playing with our little
daughter, now eleven months old, and remarked to my
wife that I would send one of her recently taken photo-
graphs to Mrs. Smyth. I cannot account for the impulse
which thus expressed itself, as nothing had occurred in a
long time to bring either of you forcibly to mind. As
I left the house a few minutes later the postman handed
me the paper, which, on being opened, contained the sad
news. I have not since seen my wife, but I know she
would join me in expressions of sympathy for your great
affliction.
Very sincerely yours,
WILLIAM B. BULL.
Treasury Department, Washington,
February 14, 1885.
My Di'ir Old Frkhd : —
Although we luxve been long and far apart, my warm-
est sym}»athy goes out to you in tliis your day of ])eroave-
91
ment. I think of the days when we were together long
ago as officers of the agricultural society, and of later
times wlien I held court in Manchester, when we were
much younger than now, and of my pleasant meetings
with your wife and you ; and I cannot think of you with-
out her, who seemed to be so much a part of your life.
My memory of her is of a young, bright, lovely woman,
the light and life of the society about her. I have not
seen her enough since to think of her as advanced in
years with the rest of us. There is nothing for me to
say by way of consolation, yet I know you will be glad
of this reminder from one who has known and felt an
interest in you both so long.
And so, old friend, farewell, and God bless you.
HEXRY F. FREXCH.
(Assistant U. S. Treasurer.)
Baltimore, February 18, 1885.
3Iii Dear Governor : —
I was ever so much depressed day before yesterday
upon receiving, from some kind friend in Manchester,
newspapers containing the account of Mrs. Smyth's obse-
(piies. I had no knowledge that she had died. I don't
know wliat to say to you. I had such respect for her,
such an idea of her grand good health as exhibited in her
handsome personal appearance, that I thought and hoped
she would lonsi: outlive both of us. I am heartilv iclad
92
that the clergyman who delivered the address at her fu-
neral knew her so well. What he said was well said, and
showed an appreciation of her noble character. When I
think now ot the many conversations we used to have
about your early life with her as children, when you
were })iling wood and she was doing the domestic house-
work, the early love that sprang up, and the success that
sprang from that nmtual early love and aifection, my
regrets are multiplied that it should not have lasted for-
ever. Well, you have my heart-felt sympathy ; but I am
glad she lived long enough to make all wlio knew her
love her, and to " live with tliose we leave behind is not
to die."
^[rs. Bond, who in a very short intercourse recognized
the womanly greatness and loveliness of her character,
sends sympathy to you in your afHiction, and you have
no more sympathizing friend than
Yours atieetionately,
HUGH L. BOXD.
(Judge U. S. Circuit Coui't.)
Portland, Me., Felu-uary 18, 1885.
Ml/ Dear Friend : —
It is a terrible experience through which you are pass-
ing these days, and I feel so earnestly for you that I must
take up my pen to express my heart-felt sym[»athy for
93
you. I can lionestly say I have never known a woman
more finely constituted by God to adorn every station
through which she has moved than was your lovely wife.
She was the soul of natural dignity, facility, and grace.
In temperament, in instincts, in intuitive discernments
of occasions and persons, in power to adapt herself to
them, she was simply wonderful. The gift from the Lord
of such a treasure for so intimate living and for so many
years, lays you forever under obligation to your Heavenly
Father. You prized her living ; but Oh, how must not
each charm of i)erson and character seem glorified by
death ! How must not each more marked event of a life
together so full of incident be touched with special ten-
derness as you review it now !
Fortunate, thrice fortunate, have you been. So much
the more, does it seem to me, do you recjuire the living
remembrances of those who more or less openly congrat-
ulated you in the days of 3'our prosperity. Truly you
have mine from the bottom of my heart. May you know
tlie comforts of the Lord Jesus Christ in all their fullness,
and then it will soon appear a short journey from " the
singing seats " in the little church in Candia to the higher
seats together in heaven.
Very cordially yours,
WILLIAM H. FENi^.
(Pastor High-street Churcli, Portland, Me.)
94
CoxsTANTixoPLE, February 18, 1885.
Honorable Governor Frederick Smyth : —
My Dear and 3Iost Honored Friend : — Your letter of
the 21st of January last has caused to me a very great
afHiction, and I am indeed very sorry to learn the great
and irreparable bereavement which you have sustained
in the [ireniature and very sad death of your noble and
most beloved companion, your very kind and highly
accomplished wife. Oh, how much I sympathize with you,
my dear Governor Smyth, and how profoundly mv heart
is touched with grief by this most sorrowful disaster !
You cannot imagine, nor do I feel myself able to express,
my great dolefulness. I feel quite unfortunate for this
great loss, and I assure you that the picture of 3'our
beloved wife has so impressively been printed in my
memorv that it will never l)e effaced, nor will it ever be
possible for me to forget her kindness and amial)leness,
and the courtesy which she showed to me when I had
the happiness and great pleasure to know her. But she
is gone forever to a better world. I pray you, my most
honored friend, to bear this great trial with all that Chris-
tian abnegation and faith which are ever the sole consola-
tion and support in this earthly and temporary life, and
which, together with the high doctrines of our most holy
and divine religion, strengthen and [»repare us for the
eternal life, the life of truthfulness, purity, and virtue.
Hoping to have the honor to hear from you, I remain,
dear Governor Smyth, D. X. DP:METRIADES.
(Interpreter for United States Consul-General.)
95
Brooklyn, N. Y., February 25, 1885.
J/y Dtar Mr. Smyth : —
We ^^•c*re greatly grieved when tidings of your dear
and honored wife's death came to us, I had it in my
heart to write you at once, and my wife did sit down and
write you a letter that seems not to have reached you.
Her memory is altogether sweet and precious to us. I
associate her with our life at the AV^hite Mountains ; we
recall the i)lea8ant visit at your house; we recall several
meetings here in Brooklyn. She was one whom once
having met one does not easily forget.
There was about her an atmosphere of cheer, of bright-
ness, and of sympathetic kindness, which nnide any day
memorable in which one may have met her. You do
well to mourn her, yet you mourn not as those who have
no hope. If any one ever ascended and lives in the roy-
alty of love above, she has. Be sure that her love and
tender sympathy for you are cpiickened in heaven. Our
best (|ualities surely do not wither or wilt in heaven, and
above all love does not decline or shrink. May the Com-
forter sustain you and qualify you to join her. I am
Your cordial friend,
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
Brooklyn, N. Y., February 25, 1885.
3Li Vcn/ iJcor Friend : —
Words are a very cold expression of the great sorrow
all must feel who were so l)lessed and honored as to have
96
been known and loved by sucli a saint as Mrs. Smyth
always seemed to me, and to yon, my dear friend, they
must seem cold indeed. Xone bnt the Blessed One can
speak to your heart and bring any light to your desolate
home ; but He has promised to be with His children in
every sorrow. He, our blessed God and Saviour, has
taken your heart's delight from you for a short time for
some wise purpose, which, although we eaimot know
wliy at present, we shall surely know hereafter. This
gracious Comforter will be with you, guiding you with
loving hand through the remaining days of your eartlily
}>ilgrimage, until in His own good time he will call you
up yonder, wlien she, tlie wife of your youth, the sweet
companion and counselor of your riper years, will be the
tirst, I tirmly believe, to welcome you to that l)right
home, where sin and sorrow, pains and partings are
unknown. Our hearts have been with you daily, and
most deeply do we mourn with you for one of the truest
friends and sweetest comitanions (iod ever gave. God
l)e with you, speaking words of comfort and consolation
to your sore heart, and in your loneliness may He give
you to feel His presence, together with an abiding reality
of her jiresence constantly l)ending over you ; for are not
the spirits of the just ministering spirits, sent to minister
to tliose who are the licirs, and who are yet to be tlie
full jtossessors of that salvation ()ur Saviour ])rought to
man ? and will not she, of all the heavenly host, be the
ministeriug si)irit who shall ever be near you ':'
97
My dear friend, I wisli I could be any comfort to you ;
but remember you will be ever cordially remembered
by one who so dearly loved her who is not lost but gone
before, and always.
Most truly and affectionatelv, your friend,
E. W. BEECHER.
(Mrs. Henry Ward Beecher.)
Concord, X. H., Jan. 19, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
My Dear Governor : — In this hour of your deep atfliction
[terniit me to say, that although my acquaintance with
Mrs. Smyth was an extended and happy one, yet her
death brings especially to my mind many pleasant and
never-to-be-forgotten incidents of our delightful trip ta
Mexico in 1881. I can only touch upon some of its most
prominent features, leaving other reminiscences to be
preserved, as these will surely be, in the storehouse of
your own grateful recollections, confident that as now, so
hereafter, " it will .give you pleasure to have remembered
these things.''
Mrs. Smyth, in company with yourself, had, prior to
going to Mexico, traveled extensively in tlie United States,
and had also made several visits to the most interesting
parts of the Old "World ; yet how frequently she remarked,
while in the land of the ancient Aztecs, that it was the
98
most delightful journey she had ever taken. While the
hearts of all are tilled with emotions of the keenest sor-
row that God in His wisdom should terminate so unex-
pectedly the earthly life of Mrs. Smyth, so overliowing
with unmeasured activity and usefulness, yet we will all
rejoice with a chastened gratitude that she lived to take
the Mexican excursion, next to the last extended one of
her life.
As you well remember, after a delightful visit at New
Orleans, where we mingled in the festivities of the carni-
val season, and witnessed those gorgeous and almost
bewildering night pageants, that you pronounced far
more wonderful than anything you had seen on similar
occasions in Rome, we started southward for that land of
story and romance, where the leathery foliage of the palm
outlines itself against a tropical sky, and where sunmier
is perpetual. In departing we regretted to separate from
ex-Gov. Benjamin F. Prescott, who had been with us
in our enjoyments in the Crescent City. It was a lovely
trip of eighty miles by rail, past fresh, sweet lields of
newly planted sugar-cane, and skirting far-extending
savannas clothed in the deepest green. of a semi-tropical
spring, to Morgan City, where lay at anchor the steamer
" Whitney,'' that was to bear us over the Mexican sea to
the quaint city of Vera Cruz. Our voyage down the
Atchatalaya was so quiet and restful that our ship seemed
like a great white bird with wings outstretched to catch
the perfumed breezes already coming in from the tropic
99
lands. Mrs. Smyth greatly enjoyed our first sunset on
the (|uiet deep. The clear atmosphere of the early even-
ing tinged with a purple shade, the hrief twilight that
followed the sinking sun, and then the glistening stars
above, — all seemed to shed their tender influence over
her susceptible nature, and at length she exclaimed : " It
is so beautiful ! — everything seems to promise a happy
journey for us all."
Galveston was the only port our steamer made during
the trip. Among those who came on board tliere, were
Major-General Edward 0. C. Ord, and his son, James T.
Ord. The former was known to you, Governor, person-
ally, while by high re})utation we all knew the gallant
old soldier as a graduate from West Point, as one of the
bravest Union ofticers in the civil war, and as late com-
man<ler of the department of Texas. He was father-in-
law of General Geronimo Trevino, the Mexican cabinet
minister of war and marine, and after being crowned
with years and military renown, was placed on the retired
list of the United States army. He was as modest and
unaffected in his deportment as a child, and extremely
lovable for all those noble qualities that united to make
him a true friend and a perfect gentleman. You will
recall, Governor, when you presented yourself to him,
how kind and cordial were his thanks to you for renewing
the accpiaintance. When you mentioned to him the fact
of Mrs. Smyth's being with you, he at once asked to be
presented to her, and upon being introduced warmly
100
shook her hand and remarked, "Wliat a charming party
we have for Mexico ! " From that moment nntil we left
the city of Mexico for Havana, the close triendship of
General Ord for yourself and Mrs. Smyth, together with
the many kind courtesies extended by himself and son,
must have been a constant and unalloyed pleasure and
satisfaction. The four days of the voyage from Texas to
Vera Cruz were like sweet passages in happy dreams.
From the moment the low sandy shores of the Lone Star
State faded from view, till the morning when the gray
walls, towers, and domes of La Villa Rica de la Vera
Cruz — " the rich city of the true cross " — rose to our
vision,. our journey ovev the blue deep was a succession of
unclouded days, with the heat tempered l)y the trade
winds, and clear still nights with lambent stars and planets
reliected in the clear waters of the gulf. After leaving
Galveston not a vessel crossed our track ; but the ship's
agreeable company kei)t every one from experiencing any
feeling of loneliness, anil it will not be invidious to state
that no one seemed so ready to plan and do for the hap-
piness of others as Mrs. Smyth.
A most pleasing incident occurred near the end of our
voyage. In many countries reached by Avater prominent
objects serve as beacons to attract the attention of return-
ing pilgrims anxious to see again their native land, or of
travelers eager to obtain their lirst view of strange shores.
Mexico has such a signal in Orizaba, which, according to
Humboldt, is the highest elevation in the world that rises
101
abruptly, with no foot-hills, from the plain. Mrs. Smyth
had read of this wonderful mountain, and of the lasting
impression the first view of it produced centuries ago
upon Cortes, and when far out from Vera Cruz she be-
came deeply interested in it. She had hoped to see it
first by daylight, and her wisli was gratified. On the last
evening of the voyage Captain Henry informed her that
the ship was gradually nearing the coast. The gray
dawn of the next morning had not fairly broken before
she had arisen and begun her watch. The captain kindly
gave her the points of compass, and in a few minutes
she, the first to make out the signal, exclaimed with all
the enthusiasm of a child, "That is Orizaba, and there
is Mexico I " In a short time all the passengers had
gathered on deck to witness the sublime spectacle.
Mist concealed the shore and the adjacent country, but
in the far distance, many hundred feet al)ove the sea and
the clouds, with a background of violet-colored sky,
stood Orizal)a, majestic and impressive, silent and pas-
sioidess, and with its summit enveloped in the purest of
eternal snow, that had already begun to be glorified and
transfigured with the ruddy light of the newly risen sun.
No one who witnessed that enchanting transformation
scene can ever efiace it from the memory. Had anything
prevented Mrs. Smyth from completing the trip, she
would reverently have regarded the sight of that moun-
tain as an ample recompense for the journey.
It was at the embarking at Vera Cruz that General
102
Ord demonstrated in a marked, practical manner, his
kind regard for Mrs. Smyth and yourself. In the early
morning a boat belonging to the Mexican revenue ser-
vice came along side the " Whitney" as she lay at
anchor in the roadstead. It brought a reception com-
mittee representing the Mexican government and the
city of Vera Cruz, and included Colonel Pabla Ortega of
General Tre vino's staff, Hon. Manuel Fernandez, M. D.,
supervisor of customs. Colonel Jose Cortes of the eigh-
teenth battalion of infantry, and others who had come to
extend a welcome to General Ord. After the exchano^e
of international courtesies. General Ord and son were
invited to go ashore in the government vessel. This dis-
tinguished soldier, however, made no preparations to
land until Mrs. Smyth and yourself had not only been
invited but urged to accompany him, and when, after
some misgivings on the score of possible intrusion you
accepted his proffered favor, you at once became, as
friends of General Ord, guests of the republic of Mexico.
Of the magnificent banquet tendered to General Ord at
the princely residence of Hon. Francisco de Landero, the
Mexican minister of finance, I am sure, Governor, that
you cherish pleasant recollections, for on that occasion
Mrs. Smyth was the only lady invited , and it is safe to
say that, in the annals of that grand historic city, the
place from which Cortes and his isoldiers started out on
his remarkable military expedition, no American woman
had ever been so highly honored. Among those pres-
103
ent, in addition to the gentlemen who tendered the
welcome to General Ord, were General Eulalio Vela,
comandante militar de la plaza, Colonel R. Martinez,
of the twenty-fifth battalion. Colonel J. M. Rose of the
eighteenth battalion, and Colonel A. Maranon, — all from
the garrison at Vera Cruz ; Hon. Sebastian A. Barcena,
collector of the port; Manuel Rojas, Guillemo A. Esteva,
Gustavo A. Esteva, and the mayor of the city. The ban-
quet, in the necessary absence of Minister Landero at
the capital, was in charge of his brother, Hon. Pedro
de Landero, M. D., and was carried out with the ele-
gance and profuse display that alwa^'s characterize the
liospitality of wealthy and refined Mexican gentlemen.
There was an elaborate and expensive menu, many of
whose dainty dishes were unknown to the American
visitors, with sparkling and brilliant addresses in both
Spanish and English. Your own remarks, in answer
to a sentiment to the state of which you had been twice
elected chief magistrate, were translated into Spanish by
General Ord, and received with merited applause. The
response, by the nephew of Minister Landero, was most
fittingly made, and in closing he turned to " Signora
Smyth " and complimented her in glowing words, ex-
pressing the hope that she would be pleased with Mexico
and favored with a most pleasant journey, and that all
who should have the privilege of meeting her would ex-
tend the same large measure of respect and love which
he wished her to accept from the peo[»le of Vera Cruz.
104
In return, Mrs. Smyth could only Ijow her grateful
acknowledgments. At four o'clock in the afternoon the
special train, in charge of Hon. E. W. Jackson, general
manager, having on board the military guard of honor
that had been in waiting for General Ord and his friends,
rolled out of the Vera Cruz station, and with loving
memories of music and softl}- falling waters, of gardens
and groves of orange and palm, the Americans resumed
their journey towards the city of Mexico.
ISTo one could possibly have enjoyed that part of the
journey more than Mrs. Smyth. For the first few miles
the railway route is over the tierra caliente, with its rank
and almost overpowering tropical growth, and afterwards
it begins to climb the eastern Cordilleras, where we ob-
tained our first near view of mountain scenery, which in
grandeur and sublimity surpasses anything of the kind in
America. Coftee plantations shaded with the generous
foliage of the banana, flowering forests Avith their bril-
liant orchids almost dazzling the eye, were succeeded by
sharp gradients, and later, a temperature fast falling to
the ticrra-tehiplada point.
Among the most suritrising and imjiressive scenes on
the line are the weird and sublime harmncas of Metlac
and the Infiernillo, and the idyllic valley of Maltrata
among the mountains ; and, before reaching the latter,
we look down upon its village from the dizzy height of
three thousand feet. At Orizaba, lion. Thomas Branift",
the managing director of the English railway, who had
105
sent his elegant and official private car to Vera Cruz on
a special train, joined the party. As night approached,
Mrs, Smyth began to experience some fatigue, whicli
General Ord and Mr, Braniff being (piick to observe, at
once gave her the exclusive use of the director's carriaire,
— Mr. Branitf pleasantly remarking that it was the same
whose service he tendered to Gen. Grant on his first visit
to Mexico, it being the highest compliment in the power
of the railway company to bestow. A fine supper was in
waiting at Esperanza, where a short rest was taken.
Toward midnight a cold wind swept down the sides
of the mountains, and Xew England winter clothing
was required to render one comfortable. The military
officers from the ca})ital were unprepared for so great a
change in the temperature, and Mrs. Smyth, observing
that they were not provided with overcoats, immediately
opened her luggage, and, taking out her extra seal coat,
placed it on Colonel Ortega's shoulders, and handed her
wraps to the other officers, none of whom could find
words sufficient fully to express their gratitude for her
kindness. At Saltepec the railway reaches an altitude of
eight thousand two hundred and twenty-four feet above
the sea. Soon we had our first view of the magnificent
southern cross, that wonderful clock-work of the heavens,
climbing the blue vault of the distant sky. Early in the
morning we enjoyed a splendid view of the volcanoes
Orizaba, Txtaccihuatl (the white woman), and Popocata-
petl (the smoking mountain), with their serene peaks
106
mantled with perennial white, while scarcely a mile away
were the pyramids of San Juan Teotihuacan, " the habi-
tations of the gods." At length the train arrived at
Buena Vista station, music burst forth from a military
band, people crowded about the cars to get a glimpse of
the American visitors, and strange eights and scenes
were about us, for we had reached the city of Mexico.
Grateful memories of happy days. Governor, that were
passed in the old capital of the Aztecs, must be written
in your heart as the}' certainly were in that of Mrs. Smyth,
whose enjoyment of them was so great, whose genial and
loving presence, like a constant benediction, brightened
every hour, and whose winning and sympathetic ways
gained her a multitude of friends in that distant land.
AVhen the guest of distinguished officials, as she frequently
was, she charmed all, no less by her striking figure and
refined personal attractions, than by the marked simplicity
in all her tastes and habits. During her morning walks,
it was a frecpient occurrence for poor Mexican children to
bow graciously to the American lady whose radiant face
seemed a reflection of a loving heart.
Although our stay in that city was not a long one, yet
Mrs. Smyth was so eager and earnest to visit, so far as
possible, its many entertaining scenes and localities, that
but little of interest escaped her. She went out to the
village of Guadalupe, through which we had passed by
train, where the treaty of peace was signed after the war
between Mexico and the United States, and saw its his-
107
toric and legendary church, its healing spring, and its
hillside chapel ; glided down the canal La Vega, and
went through the " Floating Gardens," which supply the
flower and vegetable markets of Mexico, the former the
most diversified and wonderful in the world ; passed her
evenings in the Zocola, under the shadows of the grand
old cathedral, listening to the fine music of the military
band, or in the more quiet scenes of El Gran Tivoli de
San Cosme ; spent an afternoon at the castle Chapulte-
pec, where Maximilian and Carlotta made their home for
a time, but which is now the Ohsermtorio Kaeio/ud, and
stood under el arhol de la noche iriste, — " the tree of the
sorrowful night," — where so brave a man as Cortez sat
down upon a stone and wept for his lost soldiers. The
cemeteries of Mexico seemed to have a peculiar fascination
for Mrs. Smyth. Their quiet seclusion, their profuseness
of tropical flowers and shrubbery, their numberless touch-
ing mementos of departed dear ones, the beauty and ele-
gance of many of their memorials, and the tender and
loving associations that Mrs. Smyth realized must linger
about them, made a deep impression upon her. The
American and English inclosures, the Panteon Frances,
the Dolores, a favorite burial-place of the aristocracy, and
the San Fernando cemetery near the Alameda, seemed to
possess the greatest interest for her. In the latter is the
tomb of Juarez, the father of Mexican liberty, in the
shape of a magnificent Grecian temple, with marble fig-
ures, all the work of Islas, a distinguished native sculptor;
108
also the graves of Commonfort, Zaragoza, and Guerrero,
three of the republic's great heroes, and the sad resting-
place of Miramon, an imperial general who was shot at
the side of Maximilian at Queretaro. Of the side trips
which you took, accompanied by Mrs. Smj^th, perhaps
the most notable was that to beautiful Puebla de los An-
geles, the " City of the Angels," whose cathedral and
churches are second only to those of the capital, and
which possesses great historic interest from its being the
scene of the decisive victory won by the Liberal army
under General Zaragoza over the French, May 5, 1862.
Your short excursion from Puebla out to the pyramid of
Cholula, which in breadth of base and some other feat-
ures is the most remarkable yet discovered in the world,
proved one of the most entertaining which you took in
Mexico. It was at Puebla where Mr. Blumenkron, an
American by birth and formerly United States consul in
that city, showed you numerous kind attentions.
I recall many persons in the city of Mexico who ex-
tended almost countless courtesies to Mrs. Smyth as well
as to yourself, and most especially should be mentioned
General Ord, General and ^Mrs. Trevino, the latter be-
fore marriage Miss Bertie Ord, whose recent death car-
ried sorrow to many hearts, and Manager Director Braniff
and General Manager Jackson of the Vera Cruz railway.
To these should be added Rev. H. Chauncey Riley, D. D.,
bishop of the valley of Mexico, Rev. J. W. Butler, D. D.,
General John B. Frisbie, Hon. P. H. Morgan, United
109
States minister, General D. H. Strother, United States
consul, and J. Mastella Clarke, the accomplished editor
and publisher of the " Two Tiepublics," whose kind offices
were most fully appreciated. These and many others
in that city must have been deeply pained at the intelli-
gence of Mrs. Smyth's death.
I will close this already long letter. Governor, by re-
calling two occurrences on the Sunday preceding the
date of your departure for Havana. In the afternoon, as
you will at once recall, we strolled from our hotel, the
celebrated Iturbide, formerly the palace of the emperor
of that name, down San Francisco street. The sun was
nearing the horizon, and its golden light resting, as if in
loving farewell, upon the snow-clad summits of Popocat-
apetl and Ixtaccihuatl ; the sweet scent of orange blos-
soms was wafted on the ambient air, and away out on
the Calzada, the magnificent boulevard built under the
personal direction of " Poor Carlotta," was a long line of
carriages containing the wealth and fashion of the city,
on their evening drive to Chapultepec. By chance we
ol)served the lovely entrance to the Episcopal cathedral,
the passage to which was almost hedged in by beds of
luxuriant llowers, while on the right was an old convent
wall, which to the height of more tlian thirty feet was
nearly hidden from view by thick masses of heliotrope
and other clinging vines. Entering, we found ourselves
in what was formerly one of the most costly of the Roman
Catholic churches of the city. It was one of those which
110
had been conliscated by the Liberal government and pur-
chased by the Episcopalians, mainly through the efforts
and generosity of Bishop Riley, Although the original
furnishings and portions of the ornamentation had been
removed, yet its grand and impressive architecture re-
mained. We found no one present but the sacristan,
who kindly welcomed us. After going over the building,
Mrs. Smyth, with marked seriousness, suggested that we
should hold a service, and her wish was gratified as best
we could. From the Uhro de oracion we read the Lord's
Prayer and the apostle's creed, and then Mrs. Smyth,
seating' herself at the organ, played and sang, accom-
panied by yourself, that beautiful and favorite hymn of
hers, which was so recently rendered at her funeral,
Vjeginning, —
" Softly now the light of day
Fades upon my sight away."
As the notes of her sweet voice ascended into the dim
vault above, listening l)irds in tlie cathedral roof caught
the music of the hymn, and poured out their joyful re-
sponse. As we walked slowly homeward, our own sub-
dued hearts revealed to us that we had tarried where
everything must have been glorified by the Master's
presence.
In the evening Mrs. Smyth's parlor at the hotel was
filled with kind friends, who assembled to bid her and
yourself good-bye, and who left a table covered with fioral
Ill
otterings. One remarked that her trip had heen so pleas-
ant that she must make a second visit, but there was a
saddened expression on her face wlien she answered :
" Life is uncertain ; I am afraid I shall never see Mexico
again." Perhaps even then she may have had a pre-
monition that she had not many years to live, while in
her heart may have been the words : —
" I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says, I must not stay,
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away."
In conclusion, permit me to make mention of General
Ord's sad death from yellow fever at Havana, while on
his way back to the United States. Had he lived, he
would have written much better than I have done con-
cerning Mrs. Smyth's visit to Mexico. Tendering you,
my dear Governor, my most heartfelt sympathy, I remain.
Ever sincerely, your friend,
J. E. PECKER.
Washington, February 26, 1885.
My Dear Pi'iend: —
I have not ventured hitherto to intrude upon your
great grief, but I am sure you will allow me to tender
my sincei-est sympathy with you. I know your loss
must seem irreparable. I was permitted as your guest
112
to see how completely your own life and the life of Mrs.
Smyth were merged as one, and I know your affliction
is immeasurable. I pray that God will give you strength
to bear it, and that your own useful life, even if its chief
joy be taken out of it, will long be spared to your friends
and to your state. Most sincerely yours,
JAMES G. BLAIXE.
February, 1885.
Ex-Gov. Smyth, —
Dear Sir: — That we sympathize with you in your
great sorrow I need not assure you. It is our sorrow,
in a far less degree. Our feelings are so deeply moved
that it is dilficult, almost impossible, to tell you the things
Mrs. Smyth and I used to talk about in our drives, as
you wished me to do. Every day I think of her words
as well as of her doings. One day riding on the Mam-
moth road, as we passed the place where the lovely child
of Mr. Fogg used to greet you, she said you were (juite
interested in him, and took it sorely to heart when he
was taken so suddenly from the loving arms of his par-
ents. She said : " How hard it is to understand I how in-
comprehensible it all is ! " I (juoted Watts : —
" Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,"
She tinished the quotation with —
'' And works his sovereign will."
113
" If one is rationally submissive they may see ; it" they
do not here, they will by and by."
" Then," I said, " you think there is comfort in sub-
mitting ? " She bowed her head.
Juliette would stop now and then. Mrs. Smyth said,
"When Frederick and I are riding, he stops often to
look in among the tangled vines, drawing in sweet breath
from the pines." Sometimes you would get out of the
carriage and gather the ferns and wild tlowers that grew
in a little way from the roadside. One place in particular
Juliette kept looking around as though she expected
Mrs. Smyth to get out. " You may go along, Juliette,
they have spoiled the place;" and to me she said, " We
can't expect all things to remain perfect for us."
One day she was entertaining me with an account of
her visit with you to the Nevada silver mines, going down
on an elevator not more than four feet s(|uare, four of
you standing erect, down, down, down, into the bowels
of the earth, — ver}- dark and very warm, growing more
so till you came to a large room, Avhere you breathed a
little treer. I asked, " How did you feel ? What were your
thoughts ? " Over till else, " I shall be with him." It
was not, we shall be together, but " I shall be with
him; " and, do you know, this seems like a thrilling proph-
ecy to me now. How many years you had her with you
till tiesh and strength failed ! then our Father who gave
took her to himself, — a bright and beautiful soul freed
from the iniirmities which made it impossible for her
114
longer to minister. O be glad with a thankful heart
that you had her so long !
A lad}' friend of mine was bereft of a beautiful daugh-
ter (some little ones had gone before). An acquaintance
said to her, " She had better been taken in infanc}'."
" 0, no," said the weeping mother, "I am glad I had her
so long; the sweet memories of her happy childhood and
her joyous youth, her sweet confidences, her truth, — all
are to be treasured in the coming years as something
sacred."
We cannot help mourning for our beloved, but we
must not mourn as those without hope.
You said to me : " Mrs. Paige, I had an angel in the
house at ray side, and knew it not." You did know it ;
but, like the beautiful Antoine, in the ministry of life
you did not botanize.
You cannot reproach yourself; there is no reproach
for you. You lived for her ; surrounded her with every
thing that was beautiful that she loved ; you were good
to all that belonged to her. Xow try to take comfort in
the things which were a comfort and a lifting up to her.
Think of her as with you now, directing, leading, quiet-
ing,— yes, (juieting is the word.
I must tell you of a talk we had one day as we were
driving to the cemetery. I thought she rather avoided
that route and said, " I am not particular; I will go any
where you like, of course. I shall get the sweet air away
from the dusty street." (I had asked her to go that wa}'.)
115
Mrs. Smyth seemed embarrassed, as thoiigli she ■wanted
to say something and hardly knew liow to say it to me.
I said, " Faithful are the reproofs of a friend." "iN'ot
reproofs," she replied, " but I am afraid you look into
the grave too much." She looked straight ahead; I can
see her now just as she looked then. A little silence, then
she spoke the words , " She is not there ; " and looking
down at me she said, " I am relieved." Then we talked
as we had never talked till then of the blessed reunion,
made possible through a risen Saviour. I was glad, I
am glad always for the testimony given and received that
day. I wan sick then, she in perfect health, apparently.
Little did we think of the one that should be taken and
the other left, or that in eight short months after I should
stand over the spot where she lay entombed and breathe
a }>rayer for the loved she left.
If she had known and been able to tell you in her dy-
ing hour how strong her faith was in a crucified Christy
it would doubtless be a comfort to you ; if she had told
you how to live, it could only have been in a general way ;
it might have l)een darker. You have the light of her
glorious life to illumine your way. Rest in that light ;
cast no shadow ; believe and trust in God your Father,
and in Ilis good time an enduring mansion will receive
you both.
AVith deep respect yours,
(Mrs.) II. C. PAIGE.
116
Consulate of the United States,
Malaga, February 26, 1885.
M;i Dear Governor : —
Last niglit we were sliocked on receiving two papers
from New Hampshire containing the sad news of tlie
death of your dear good wife. It seems difficult to realize
that the cheery voice that hade us such hearty welcome
to your New Hampshire home is stilled forever. You
may have friends of longer standing than ourselves, but I
feel I can assure you that tio warmer sympathies will
reach you, no deeper regrets for the good woman who
made such an impression in so brief an ac(|uaintance.
It was one of the pleasures we had promised ourselves,
on our return to Americji, to receive your hearty greet-
ing, and claim for a brief moment the hospitality you
both so generously tendered us. In such moments the
sympathies of your friends must help you to bear your
grief Believe me, my dear governor, you have that of
mv wife and self. Very sincerely,
H. C. MAKSTEN.
Woodland Villas, Ince and Wkmn, EN(i.,
February 25, 1885.
31// Vt)'// IJotr Sir : —
It is with the deepest and most sincere sympatliy that
I now write to you. There are sorrows in which no out-
side spectator can enter; tlierc are otlier sorrows into
which all must feel a right to enter, and such, my dear
117
sir, is yours. No one could liave met your dear wife,
even for a short time, and not feel a blank when the news
came of her death. Certainly I but saw her for a few
days, but it was then, when weak and ill, she spoke to
me e'en as a mother would. She cheered me up, and
pointed to a bright future even here below. (), sir,
those still days traveling eastward can never ])e forgotten
by me, and in their })leasant reminiscences are the days
spent in the company of your dear wife and self. Alas
that she no longer lives to comfort you, and to shed rays
of sunshine across the paths of others I Still He knows
best, the dear " World Father." "Shall not the judge
of all the earth do right':' Sorrow may endure for the
night, but joy cometh in the morning.'" And it is to the
God of all comfort that I commend you, knowing that
He doeth all things well. In Jesus we have such a sym-
pathizing Saviour, knowing all about us, remembering
that we are but dust. That He may comfort you and
cheer you now in your hour of trial, is my most sincere
l)rayer and heart-felt wish. Dear Mrs. Smyth is better
otl'; she now sees the King in that land afar off. Her
})rayers are now turned into praise, her cross exchanged
for a crown; }tain has ceased forever, and in the full joy
of peace is tlie rest with God in heaven.
With my prayers and heart-felt sym]>athv, in which
my wife joins, I remain, dear sir,
Yours sincerelv,
THOMAS TA^'L(^R.
(Curute t)f Ince.)
118
Smyrna, Turk., March 13, 1885.
My Dtar Brother : —
We cannot imagine you apart from the dear wife
whom the Lord has taken to himself, and hence we think
of you both as being together, though not in the body
jet in the spirit. You have been so united in God's
love and in that of each other, that not even death can
:5e[)arate you. She has only gone a little before you to
the heavenly place, where you will again meet never to
}»art. There will be no pain, no tears, no sin, but all
will l»e peace and joy and a glorious forever. I know
you will mourn for the separation, but even in this you
will huAe the sympathy of Him who wept at the death
of His friend and the tears of his sisters. Jesus sympa-
thizes with the atHicted as well as with those Avho rejoice.
When we lost our only boy I groaned and wept, l>ut the
Lord told me, that unless I l)ecome as the little child I
shall never enter his kingdom. Thus the greatest sor-
row lja<l become a comfort, and I looked not to the dust
Init to heaven, and am comtorted in my altliction.
Your dear wife belonged to those positive and impressive
characters that command respect so conq^etely at the
outset that one never stops to think A\hat are the ele-
ments which constitute such a character. They are like
the morning light, so cheery and rcfresliing in its inliu-
ence, so completely awakening the soul's admiration, that
one never thinks of suljjecting it to a prismatic analysis
jn order to discover the wonderful colors of which it is
119
composed. Outside of tliose who knew and ol^served
her in her every-day life, probably few can name the
specilic elements of her character, though none may deny
its wonderful influence upon himself. I recall the quiet,
dignified enthusiasm she manifested for the beautiful in
art when I tirst met wdth her among the ruins of ancient
Athens, the suppressed delight indicative of a cultivated
intellect controlled by a modest soul.
The freslmess with which she s[»oke of special objects
she had seen in Athens when I met her again at your
own residence in Manchester, was almost a surprise.
She has impressed me as a wc^man of much thought, and
•yet as one whose thoughts were expressed more in acts
than in words, and I carry in my mind impressions rather
than expressions, though her cordial hospitality to me
and mine, and her generous sympathy for the work in
which we are engaged, are among the expressioTis that
shall never be forgotten.
May the dear Lord comfort you, and bless and sanctity
this severe afiiietion to you, is the }irayer of myself and
wife.
Sincerely yours in deep sym})athy,
GEOKGE COXSTAXTIXE.
(Missionary ol the Ainericiin Boiircl.)
Deii.r FriiiHl : —
We received copies of your daily i)apers, and I have
sent one to my daughters in Charlestown, and am sure
120
they will remember the sainted one as they saw her in
Athens. Then I wish them to have her beautiful char-
acter as a model before them. I recall with pleasure
the tirst time I met your dear wife, a warm morning in
1878, at the hotel in Athens. As we conversed about
matters of interest to both of us, I was impressed by her
good sense, her simplicity, her kindliness, and a certain
majesty of i)resence which clothed all, making her seem
the real woman, whom one could wish for a friend.
Your short stay was soon over, and the next time we
met Avas at her own beautiful home, when we responded
to your own very cordial invitation that we should visit
you in the autumn of 1880. Her Avarm welcome and
thoughtful attention during those few lovely days will
long linger in my memory, for they were especially help-
ful at that time. As we walked back and forth on the
bridge, with what interest, yea, with what pride, did she
point out the inn)rovements in the town, and tell me of
the success of certain individuals. Then as we drove
around the town, I remember she showed me this and
that object, as if each were a i)art of herself, even to the
trees along the streets. During those days we had many
a quiet talk of her earl}- life, of the responsibilities of
later years, when she sometimes found herself suddenly
brought face to face with a trying emergency, of her
social relations witli eminent persons as well as of the
huml)ler but dearer ones.
You may remember that charming drive across the
121
Merrimack and up the heights (I do not recall the name
of the localities), how we hunted for chestnuts to send
to our two little girls whom we had left in Charlestown ;
and I was so happy as she said, when we passed a sum-
mer boarding-house, beautifully 8ituate<l on the top of a
hill, " That will be just the i)lace for your mother and
your Ilattie to pass the vacation. If they will come, I
will do all I can for their comfort," — a promise of thought
for our daughter when we should be thousands of miles
away at our mission field.
Again, when you passed by Smyrna in 1883, I had a
glance at her pleasant face, and a few words of greeting
and parting. We thought to see each other again in the
dear home-land. Now she has only stepped across the
border, beyond your vision, it is true, but you know our
sight is very, very short, and there you will join her in
a little while. Then not a shadow will ever mar the
happiness of either.
All this blessed hope of a glorious immortality we
obtain by an atonement of our Lord. Are we not im-
mense debtors to him ?
Yours in truest sympathy,
(Mrs.) AMANDA F. COXSTANTINE.
Englewood, N. J., March 19, 1885.
Dear Gorcriwr S/i)i/th : —
You have been much in my thoughts since your be-
reavement, and often have I and my good wife conversed
122
about you and dwelt upon your situation. If there were
anything in our power to do to alle\'iate the great sorrow
that the good Lord in His own ^nse purpose has laid
upon you, gladly would we put ourselves at your com-
mand.
But is it not a fact that as time wears on }'ou iind your-
self more reconciled to the situation, and stronger to take
up and carry forward the duties that daily press upon
you ? Do not, dear friend, lose heart ; do not give your-
self to too intense contemplation of the great loss that
30U have sustained. Rather rejoice that it was your good
fortune to he blessed so many years with the companion-
shi[> of such a noble woman as your wife. Treasure up
the memories of the past, and find comfort in the thought
that ere long, when you shall have reached your allotted
term of life, you are sure of a blessed and unending
reunion with the woman you loved so well here on earth.
For one, I cannot doubt that in the higher world friends
will recognize each other; and while there may not be
marriao:es and giving in marriage there, I am sure that
the friendships sanctified on earth by holy love will be
reestalilished in heaven with an intimacy and exaltation
far above and l>eyond what existed here below. I well
remember bow my mother's death (the closest relative
I ever lost) affected me. My grief ^\■as great, but after a
little I came to rejoice that the dear woman was safe
in heaven, beyond all the trials and cares of this world;
and the verv fact that I had such a saintlv iruardian
123
Avatching over me became a constant incentive to hiii-her
aspiration and nobler effort. I believe that you will soon
see the time when the presence on the shining shore of
your own Enmui will be to you a constant inspiration to
the zealous and manly performance of the daily duties
that lie in your path.
Most cordially, your friend,
SAMUEL A. DUN^CAN.
Xew Yokk, March 25, 1885.
Dear Gorcrtior Smj/ih: —
We little thought when we bade you and your dear
wife good-bye in Paris that we should never see her
again, but are indeed thaidcful that we had those pleas-
ant \isits tt)gcther. They are among our })leasantest
memories, and now our hearts are aching for you in your
sad bereavement. Pray acce}»t from 3'our friends what
little comfort it is in their power to offer you in your
terrible affliction, and allow it a little to assuage your
grief tiiat all must say of your dear wife, —
" None knew her but to love her,
None named her but to praise."
My daughters join me in adding their tribute of admi-
ration for your wife, and wish me to convey their deep-
e'st sympathy to you in your great trouble.
Always sincerely yours,
FANXTK E. HUXTIXGTOX.
124
Syrian Protestant College, Beyroot,
March 25, 1885.
Mij D&ir Gov. Smyth : —
We Iieurd by the last mail of your great loss and of
your dear wife's intinite gain. Earthly joys faded from
your life, eternal joys beamed ui)on her life. Your sor-
row must be great, greater than I can tell, for no one
can measure such bereavement unless he has experienced
the same. I have often thought that one could lose
father, mother, brother, sister, or child, with less pain
than he could lose his wife. It must be so in all true
marriages, for "they twain shall be one liesh." May
God bless and comfort you. Your dear wife is gone —
into the other room. It is better furnished and has tiner
views than the one she lett. The door is o})en, and she is
waiting for you.
AVe remember your two visits to Syria, in the years
1878 and 1883, and with what interest Mrs. Smyth looked
upon all of our missionary and educational work. We
saw her for a short time only, but her sweet, beaming face,
her cordial, winning grace of manner, made us feel that
we had known her for years. Wlien you came the sec-
ond time, we welcomed her as an old friend, and well
remember how we wondered at and admired your bravery
in going to visit the ruins of Damascus and Baalbec at a
time when you, in consequence of some injury, could
not put your foot to tlie ground, and how she playfully
said, " O, yes ; he can go anywhere with me to take
125
care of him." She was a true, iiol)le, Christian woman.
Mrs. Bliss joins me in warmest sympathy and love.
Yours very truly,
DANIEL BLISS.
(President Syrian Protestant College, Beyroot.)
The Manse Cougeshall, Essex, Enu.,
March 25, 1885.
My Dear Sir: —
We received some little time ago the newspapers con-
veying the very sorrowful intelligence of your great and
heavy loss. You have every consolation in retiecting
on the [>ast life of your distinguished and noble wife, and
also the great comfort of knowing that she is with Christ
and is there aAvaiting a blessed reunion with those who
were dearest to her on earth.
It seems hardly possible to realize that she lias been
called away, she seemed so liealthy and full ot vigor,
both mental and bodily, wlien we had the pleasure of
seeing lier on the Nile. On bidding us farewell, she said
with great earnestfiess, " Well, if we never meet again
on earth, we shall meet in heaven." It is not a little
singular that we were unconsciously very near to meet-
ing her again on earth ; for we, Mr. Philps and I, were
staying at the Prospect House this last autumn, within
a week of the time, as I saw from the papers, you were
at the White Mountains with your beloved wife. It
126
would indeed have been a great pleasure to have seen
her once more, but that is never to be now. Had we
known your address, or thought it possible we might
have seen you, we should have written. Our stay in the
States and Canada was very brief, but we came home
profoundly impressed with some of the scenery, and
especially charmed with the autumnal tints, which were,
I understand, unusually line this autumn. "We were in
the last steamer on Lake George, and nearly the last
train up Mount Washington, and the hotels were all
closing as we left.
You were, I am sure, much gratified by the marks of
respect shown by all classes to the memory of Mrs. Smyth,
and she will long live in the affectionate remembrance
of those to whom her influence and work have l)een such
a blessing.
That you may l^e supported and comforted in your
very heavy and painful bereavement is our earnest hope.
I cannot close without thanking you for this mark of
kind remembrance in sending us the papers. Tlie friend-
ships arising from our travels have formed a very val-
uable link with the New "World, as well as with more
distant parts of our own country.
Mr. Philps joins me in kindest exjiressions of sym-
pathy, and I remain,
Yours very sincerely,
ANNIE rillLPS.
'Wife of Kev. Mr. Pliilps.)
127
Manchester, N. H.
My Dear Friend : —
A feeling of personal bereavement conies over me as
I attempt to bring words of sympathy and consolation
to your sad heart. I have compassion for you because I
mourn with you, and while the hunger of the heart can-
not be satisfied but ever yearns for the touch of the
familiar hand and sound of loving voice, yet we cannot
but feel that " it is better to have loved and lost " than
never to have known such a woman as she. Her mem-
ory can never die ; her rare, beautiful character is still
ours to cherish. Yes, it is only for ourselves we mourn.
" For her there is no longer any future ;
Her life is bright ; bright without spot it was
And cannot cease to be ; no ominous hour
Knocks at her door with tidings of mishap.
Far off she is above desire and fear.
Oh it is well with her ! "
The thought comes to me, that if we, her friends, feel
her loss so dee})l y, what must it be to her husband and
companion, he who has been nearer to her than any
friend, and who must miss more than all others her
sweet presence and ever ready sympathy.
!My family join me in this message of condolence ; and
that God may help you to bear this, the heaviest trial ot
your life, is the wish of
Your sincere friend,
IREXE S. PORTER.
128
Manchester, February, 1885.
Governor SxMYTh, —
My Dear F^rietid : — In your great trouble you have my
lieart-felt sympathy. To me Mrs. Sm^-th was the most
lovely woman I ever knew, and all that a true friend
could be. Far back in my childhood I remember her
sweet face and cheerful words, and I think my life has
been better and happier from having known her. None
could go from her dear presence feeling sad or lonely.
For all, l>oth high and low, she had a kindly greeting.
Her life was beautiful, and we, her neighbors, all loved
her. You will see her ere long, my dear friend, more
beautiful than ever, and be no more parted from her.
God help you to l)ear your sorrow and to wait His time.
Mrs. EMMA S. KIDDER.
Dorchester, Mass., April 26, 1885.
Thanks, my dear friend, for your call. What a pity
that we did not meet I I know how to sympathize with
you in your great bereavement. It seems hard, but God
knows what is })est for us. He cannot err, and ere long
we shall join our departed friends in that better land,
where disease and death can never come.
As ever, yours,
MAliSIIALL P, WILDER,
Hon. Frederick Smyth.
129
Goveimor Smyth. : —
Permit us, dear Governor, to express our deep sym-
pathy with you in your great trial, and to hope that
the grace of God will sustain and cheer you in the dark
hours which come to all hearts so hereft.
Most sincerely,
Your friends and obedient servants,
A. P. TASKER, Pres. Y. M. C. A.
W. T. PERKIXS, General Secretary.
Melrose, Mass., April 28, 1885.
31>j Dear Fiimd : —
The sad tidings of Mrs. Smyth's death have reached
me at a late day. I have passed the winter in the West,
and the newspaper accounts of her decease and ol)sequies,
which were forwarded me, failed to reach me. Only
since my return have I learned how heavy a bereavement
you have suffered in the loss of the rare woman whose
companionship blest your life.
I have been reading the sad details of her illness and
burial with a heavy heart, for she had become very dear
to me. Ever since my acquaintance with Mrs. Smyth,
anticipation of a visit to Manchester, on any errand, was
coupled and brightened with the expectation of meeting
her. She was like a friend of early years in the l)eati-
tudes of her welcome and the larLreness of her generous
130
hospitality. My very last visit with her was the most
interesting, and was one which I shall always remember.
It was less than six months prior to her departure. You
were absent from home, and we talked late into the
night. I do not know that she had any premonition of
her approaching illness and death, for she said nothing
that indicated it. But if she had foreseen it, if she had
known that at that very moment she was standing within
the shadow of the dark valley, our conversation could not
have been very different ; for our theme of discourse was
that always thrilling and interesting topic, " The immor-
tal life."
She told me something of her early life, of her strug-
gles in the past, and then of the friendless and the help-
less and dependent people to whom she gave nmch
thought and help.
" But what I do is as nothing, there is so much to be
done," was her concluding remark, " and I sometimes
grow discouraged in my efforts to help people." This
led me to remark that we could never know the mighty
help we rendered each other until we stood revealed to
one another in the clear light of the great hereafter ; and
then we wandered off into a wondrously interesting talk,
in which we theorized and speculated concerning the
future, our theories taking color and direction from that
prose poem of Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, " Beyond the
Gates."
I remember how cliarmed she was with a little poem
of Chadwick's which I quoted to her, and which she
131
made me repeat a second time. Let me quote it here,
my dear friend, for there is a world of comforting sugges-
tion in it.
" As when the friends we dearly love
Have gone beyond the sea,
The far off lands in which they bide
More real yet to be;
So when our loved ones once have crossed
Death's lone and silent sea,
And in a country new and strange
Found immortality,
The heavenly land in which they dwell.
Which erst did ever seem
An unsubstantial pageant vast,
A dreamer's idle dream,
Becomes as solid to my soul
As is the earth I tread,
"What time I walk with reverent tieet
The city of the dead.
Not Europe seems so real to me,
The Alps not so eterne,
As that dear land for which at times
My heart dotii inly burn.
And not more sure am I that they
"Whom ocean's waves divide,
Will meet again some happy day
And linger side by side,
Than that the day shall surely come
When we, and all we love,
Shall meet again, and clasp, and kiss,.
In that dear land above."
132
Death is but a circumstance in a life that is unbroken.
And, my friend, your beloved wife has only learned the
lessons and mastered the tasks of the first school of the
soul in advance of us, and so has received an earlier pro-
motion to that higher school where the lessons are nobler,
the tasks grander, and where the great Master himself
])ecomestlie heavenly instructor. There her loving heart
may indulge to the full its kindliness ; there joy will be
duty and love will be law. There her love of the beau-
tiful shall have perfect development ; her spirit of help-
fulness shall find scope as she becomes a ministering
auigel to those whom she has preceded to heaven.
lieasoning u})ward as we may from the supremest de-
lights that crowned her life, we can but faintly conceive
•of her l)liss in that higher life. All we can know or
conjecture concerning it is as but the fringe on the bor-
ders of a robe. Neither thought nor sense avails us in
trying to pierce the impenetrable veil that has dropped
between her and us. But if we had no higher assurance,
we could trust the instincts of our hearts that all is well
with her forever. For her, so unselfish and large-hearted,
so loving and tolerant, so devout and reverent, so upright
iind helpful, the future holds naught that is harmful, for
those are godlike (pialities, that have in themselves y)eati-
tude and immortality.
So, my dear friend, do not mourn too deeply. You
must miss lier and cannot be otherwise than lonely, but
remember only a hand-breadth of life and time separates
133
you from her. A year ago she and I rode together from
Manchester to Rutland, Vt. IJer errand to that city
was a mission of mercy to a former employe, and that
evening she put aside a great pleasure that enticed her
that she might aid a poor woman. How her little army
of dependents must mourn her ! What will God give
them in her stead !
" God keeps a niche in heaven to hold our idols, and
there we shall tind them as we pass into that other
chamber of the king, larger than this we leave, and
lovelier."
Yours very truly,
MARY A. LIVERMORE.
Hyde Park, Mass., May 6, 1885.
My Very Kind Friend : —
Your coming was so like an angel's visit to-day, it
completely unmanned and unnerved me. Not only your
considerate and thoughtful kindness, but the words of
honorable remembrance of past labors and battles for
the right, against slavery, intemperance, and other sins
we fought together, moved me deeply. And then your
touching allusion to the departure of that noble, intelli-
gent woman ! God gave and has taken ; yes, she was
His child. A})ove eulogy, — no praise can elevate her in
your mind, no words can tell your loss or reveal your
sorrow. Like a guardian angel she watched over your
134
rising prospects, and was never a hindrance but ahvays
the strongest aid you had. Now the Father has called
her first, and left you to ripen so that you may be as
ready to go as she. * * * *
You will please accept our most sincere thanks and
gratitude for your kind and short visit. Come again, and
I will take a trip up to our blue hills and around, and
we will talk of that glorious home and friends that never
part, where all real worth is appreciated and rewarded.
There shall you receive for your short afflictions, " which
are but for a moment, an exceeding and eternal weight
of glory " for all you do suffer and grieve here in this
world of sorrow.
I remain in prayer for your comfort and peace in the
great Comforter forever.
Your brother,
J. B. DAVIS.
( Former pastor Freewill Baptist Church, Manchester.)
BosioN, May 29, 1885.
Hun. Frederick Smyth, —
iJtar Sir : — I have thought I would write you ever
.since I heard of the terrible sorrow which has fallen to
your lot, ])Ut knowing that you would have so many
friends to otter sympathy I have refrained. I have
remembered always the sympathy whicli you extended to
me upon a like occasion; and wlien I have looked l)ack
135
upon the saddest day of my whole life, — the day of
Major Farr's funeral, — I have seen you standing promi-
nent in my little home, ready to otter me your heart-felt
sympathy. When I read of the death of Mrs. Smyth, it
did not seem possible that she was gone. I had not
heard of her illness, and she always looked so well. She
was a lovely person in every respect, and you seemed to
be so happy together. * * * * You
have my sincere sympathy in your lonely life, and if any
one can know how to sympathize with you, it is myself,
for the loss of Major Farr was u terrible one for his
tamily.
Very respectfully yours,
ELLEX B. FAlill.
OcALA, Fla., April 27, 1885.
J/y Dear Friettd : —
It all comes to me at once, — your letter and my own
sense of loss in the dispensation that has taken from our
sight so rare a spirit. I can, tliis morning, write you only
this word, as this mail closes in a few minutes.
May God comfort you. But be sure your grief draws
me nearer to you than ever before.
Yours in memory and hope,
JOSHUA L." CHAMBEKLAEN".
(Ex-Gov. of Maine.)
136
Newton, Mass, May 12, 1885.
Ex-Gov. Smyth, —
Dear Sir : — I watched the. papers with deep anxiety
when dear Mrs. Smyth was sick, hoping each day that
the reports might be more favorable. But she could not
be spared to us longer. She was fitted for higher, holier
service, and the loving Father called her to the greater
joy of that service.
I was greatly pained when I learned that she was no
more, — dear Mrs. Smyth ! Was she not for some time
being made ready to go ? The last time I met her was
last spring at the Woman's Mission Board in Boston, I
did not recognize her till she had kissed me and said,
" Don't you know Mrs. Smyth ? " I always thought her
beautiful, but there was a softness and sweetness and beauty
of presence about her that I had never seen in her before.
It seemed like a ripening for heaven. I thought of it
much after I had parted from her, and when I heard that
she had passed on to the better land, it came back to me
so freshly ; and I said, " Yes, she was ripe for heaven ! "
How much I should have liked to look upon the dear
face again ! but that could not l)e. You have, I am sure,
the heart-felt sympathy of all who knew and loved her so
dearly, for we can understand in some degree the great
loss you have sustained. I am,
Very truly yours,
Mrs. K E. JOKES.
137
Franklin, N. H., June 13, 1885.
Friend Smyth : —
"We thank you kindly for your letter just received.
Since I saw you I have committed the mortal part of my
good wife to the silent grave. The immortal soul, "the
vital spark of heavenly flame," is gone above, as we
believe. Her sickness was long, and borne with much
patience. Her death was finally calm and tranquil. Her
faith and hopes were strong that she was about to
exchange her home here for a " house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens;" therefore we believe
our loss is her gain. * * * *
Truly your friend,
G. w. :n'esmith.
Bristol, N. H., June 11, 1885.
Hon. F. Smyth, —
My Dear Sir : — The very i)leasant and agreeable
acquaintance that I have had the pleasure of enjoying
with you and your estimable wife for many years past,
the very cordial greetings I have received from you both,
whether at your home or abroad, had led me to feel that
Mrs. Smyth and yourself held a very high place in my
esteem, as among my most valued friends.
I have often thought of you with your loved and loving
companion, so hajipily united, with the prospect of many
years of pleasant and agreeable life in your beautiful resi-
138
deuce. You had the association of nunierous friends,
the respect and confidence of the community, and not an
enemy to mar the peace or happiness of you or yours.
I assure you, my dear sir, tliat tlie sad and startUng
news of the death of your very dear wife gave me a shock
of mournful sadness, and was only consoled with the
thouirht that while the body lay cold in the embrace of
death, the spirit that had borne the image of the loving
Saviour, with His lineaments divine, was enjoying that
rest tliat remains for the people of God.
" O let the soul her slumbers break !
Let tlioughts be quickened and awake,
Awake to see
How soon this life is past and gone,
And death conies softly creeping on,
How softly !
This world is but a rugged road,
Which leads us to the bright abode
Of praise above.
So let us choose tliat narrow way,
That leads no traveler's foot astray
From realms of love."
T tl'cl tliat I am near tlie sunset of life,* soon to bid
adieu to earth, but with bright ])rospects of a glorious
immortality. ^lay God l)less and direct you for many
K S. r>ERKY.
(* The venerable ex-Governor is ii\ his 89tli year.)
139
Concord, N. H.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
Mji Dear Sir : — When the hand was laid heavily upon
you, I had a strong desire to write you, but I thought
others nearer to you would give you all the sympathy
that mortals could render ; but I esteemed the treasure
which you held as highly as any one, and I know that no
greater grfef can fall upon man than lias fallen upon you.
I hope that strength will be given you to bear the sepa-
ration, and that you will look forward to the happy
reunion that awaits you and your blessed wife in a " land
that is fairer than this."
Very sincerely yours,
HENRY P. KOLFE.
Concord, February 5, 1885.
Hux. Frederick SxMytii, —
De<(r Sir : — A sincere friendship ot many years presses
me to a word of sympathy and condolence in view of the
great bereavement that has fallen u})on you. So many
in all the highest walks of life so well knew and appre-
ciated the rare womanly (qualities of the now sainted
eom}»auion, that you cannot need words from me to
remind you of the breadth of her influence, and the gen-
eral sense of loss in her de])arture to the scenes of the
new and better life. Yet my recollections of the departed
are peculiar. More tlian forty years ago, when she was
140
about twenty and you some twenty-two years old, I was
first privileged with her acquaintance, and with sittings
from both for miniature portraits on ivory in water col-
ors. In trying then to delineate features aglow with
youthful bloom, I found there was personality in " living
soul " challenging artistic skill, as well as blooming
physique. You now have the picture, and deem it
precious. I hope it is a consoling souvenir. Of late
years I have known her more intimately, and seen her
ripen into the noble womanhood that commanded the
admiration of her numerous friends.
The cloud that comes over you is indeed dense and
appalling; but I pray God that it may yet open to new
light. He only can give true comfort and support, and
our feeble human words can only commend His mercies
at last.
With most cordial regards,
Your friend,
Wn^LIAM H. KIMBALL.
IN MEMORIAM.
Needless the task to '' gild tine gold,"
Or paint a face whose features hold
Beauty beyond our art, seeming to bear
The wordless purity of prayer.
Perfect she stood
In every grace of noble womanhood,
Peerless, alone ! And all the rarity
Of faith she knew ; and Christian charity
Dwelt within her breast.
This was hei life, — her earthly reign, —
That could no more of beauty gain
Than can the golden west.
ARTHUR WHITNEY SMITH.
143
The Slid, kind words written hy so many friends in this
little memorial volume may be fitly ended by quoting the
appreciative and sympathetic notice from the pen of Col.
John B. Clarke, in the Manchester " Mirror and Ameri-
can " of January 14.
In the death of Mrs. Smith the world loses one of its
best types of womanhood, and Manchester one of its best-
loved and most respected women ; a woman of whom it
can be said without exau^geration, —
" None knew her but to love her,
None named her but to praise."
She came here in the freshness and beauty of her girl-
hood, and from that time until now she has gone in and
out among our i>eople, winning from all classes golden
opinions, and carrying away ca}»tive the warm admiration
and lasting affection of all who were fortunate enough to
know her intinuitely.
She was one of the best of wives. For years she was
the constant companion, counselor, and support of her
illustrious husband, and at all times and in all places, —
in his early struggles, in his later triumphs, at his home,
at the capitals of the state and nation, in this country and
in foreign lands, — her devotion and unerring Judgment
and unfailing tact were his stay and sup})ort, as his suc-
cess and happiness were her reward. She was good and
144
noble in every relation of life. Her lovely face, which
seemed fashioned to wear a smile, rich in inspiration and
encouragement, but reflected the excellences of a heart
that was always tender and true. She had rare good
sense, and the indescribable and irresistible tact which
carries the weakness of woman to success where the
strength of man fails. She was always unassuming, self-
possessed, and charming. She could adapt herself to any
circumstances, and was equally at home in the hovel,
ministering to the wants of the humble poor, and in the
palaces of nobles, reflecting and brightening the honors
of her husband. She was a helpful woman in the com-
nmnity; her charity was watchful, untiring, and modest.
In all good undertakings she was earnest, patient, indus-
trious, and generous. She was a devoted Christian, and
her faith shone in her works, — on the street as in the
church, in her daily work as in her Sunday devotions.
She was a peacemaker; she provoked no jealousies; she
stirred up no strifes. She was a w^oman of the people :
she despised none l)ecause they were poor; she held her-
self above none because they were not richly housed and
clad. She had pity instead of contempt for the erring,
and for the unfortunate of every class encouragement and
help. In society she was a queen. She was a good sis-
ter, a kind neighbor, and a faithful friend. She had no
enemies. Her instincts were always pure, her words
wise, and her acts discreet. Her influence was powerful
and far-reacliing, and it all went to make the world
145
brigliter and better. It is siicli women that show us
what eartli might be and what heaven may be ; and when
one is called hence, even though her mission has been
grandly t'uliilled, those who know how good slie was may
well mourn dee[>ly and long. To lier stricken husband
and sorrowing relatives, the citizens of Manchester, sad-
dened by a sense of personal bereavement, extend their
heart-felt sympathy.
Denver, Col., Jan. 28, 1885.
Hon. Frederick Smyth, —
Dear Sir : — I have just learned of your afHiction, and
wish to express to you my heart-felt symi)athy. Mrs.
Smyth was one of father's greatest friends, and has been
very kind to me. I only regret that \ was never so situ-
ated as to become well acquainte<l with her. I have
always known her as a friend, and feel deej)ly grateful
for her frecjuent kind attentions.
Sincerely yours,
FRANK S. WOODBURY.
Exeter, X. H., .Ian. 20, 1885.
Dorr Goc. S)iii/(h : —
Again I write to acknowledge a kindness on your part.
On Saturday noon, a gentleman, whose name I do not
146
know, called at my boarding-place and asked to see me.
He presented me with a pass from you, over the Concord
& Portsmouth road, and told me that it was your desire
that I should be present at your wife's funeral. I had
heard of Mrs. Smyth's sad death, and I had almost de-
cided to go up to Manchester to attend her funeral ; but
your kind message (piite decided me, and so I packed
my valise and started, arriving at MancheBter all safe
and sound.
As I knew that your mind was full of sorrow, I
thought it best not to appear at your house, and so I
spent the night down town. On Sunday noon I went
around to the Franklin-street church, and after listening
to the service I took ni}' last look at dear Mrs. Smyth.
At the grave, after the impressive service was finished,
with a heart full of sorrow and sympathy, I took my last
leave of my friend, — for Mrs, Smyth was my friend; she
was always kind and pleasant to me, and I loved her as
thouijh she were a near relative. Knowins; what sorrow
you must feel, who have lost not only a friend but a com-
panion and wife, I beg you to accept my heart-felt sym-
pathy. I am only a boy, but a boy's heart is as big as
other folks', and I assure you that the sympathy I ofter
comes straight from the heart.
Your true friend,
FREDERICK S. DUXCAN.
LEAD, KINDLY LI(;HT.
Lead, kindly Light ! amid the encircling gloom
Lead thou me on ;
The night is dark and I am far from home,
Lead thou me on .
Keep thou ray feet ; I do not ask to see
The distant scene ; one step's enough for me.
So long thy power has blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on.
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.'
" Her name forever dear,
Still breathed in sighs,
Still uttered with a tear."
Los Angeles
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