Sarah C. Edgarton.

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849,

in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of



THE season for the annual blossoming of our ' ROSE '
is again here, and it once more modestly unfolds its
petals, shedding its humble fragrance for those who
have, in years gone by, fondly placed it in their
bouquet. But the pure and graceful spirit which first
ushered it into being, and which, for so many suc-
cessive years, fostered its beautiful development, has
turned away from earth, and is now watching the
flowers of a fairer shore. Yet let our annual offering
not be despised though now tendered by another hand,
but accepted and cherished, at least for her sake who
first gave it birth and has bequeathed it to those whom
she has thus early left behind her.

In appearing as the successor of one so gifted and
so beloved as MRS. MAYO, the present Editor of the
ROSE is deeply sensible that her position is a delicate
and trying one. Yet she trusts that her efforts to


merit the approbation of its friends will not be alto-
gether unavailing, but that some portion of the favor
so richly and deservedly enjoyed by her predecessor,
whose plan she has as nearly as possible pursued, may
be kindly awarded her.

For the prompt and most generous response of the
contributors to her call, the Editor returns her warmest
thanks. It will be perceived that the favorite names
are, with few exceptions, in their old places. Two or
three articles of much merit have been, with great
regret, laid aside for want of room.

Such as it is the ROSE is commended, with a modest
confidence, to the public. If it sustains the character it
has heretofore enjoyed the expectations of its warmest
friends will be more than realized, and the Editor will
have abundant reason to be gratified.

CLINTON, N. Y., JULY 20, 1849.


Mrs. S. C. E. Mayo,

Dirge of the Flowers,

Lost Treasures, ....

The Royal Captive,

The Vigil, .....

Winter Pleasures, ....

Going to Market, .

The Church and the Age,

The Little Gardener,

The Tribunal of the Tears,

The Matin Bells of Zin, . .

The Prisoner of Gisors, . . .

The Angel of the Rose,


Starlight, .....
The Heir of Clifton,
Pietro Torrigiani, or the Sculptor,
The Departure, ....
Influence of Departed Friends, .
On a Lock of Hair, ....
The Last Wish, ....
The Sewing Society,
The Nuptial Heralds. (From the Old
Bohemian), ....


T. S. KING, ... 9
C. F. LEFEVRE, . . 26
MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 31
MRS. L. J. B. CASE, . . 84
MRS. H. J. LEWIS, . 87

C. M. S 89

Miss E. A. STARR, . . 100
Miss S. H. HUTCHINS, 103
MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 107
HENRY BACON, . . 110
Miss M. A. H. DODD, . 122
MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 126
Miss L. M. BARKER, . 129
MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 147

C. M. S 186

A. D. MAYO, . . 187
MRS. E. A. BACON, . . 203
P. B. THAYER, . . 206

MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 233



The Little Match Girl, . . . G. H. BALLOIT, . . 237
The Pauper Soldier. (A New England

Tale), MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 239

Entertaining Angels, . . . J. G. ADAMS, . . 247

Dining Out, J. G. ADAMS, . . . 265

Death by the Sacramento, . . MRS. C. M. SAWYER, . 267

Sonnets Trinity Church, New York, JAMES LUMBARD, . . 270

The Pioneer, .... E. FRANCIS, . . 272

Resignation, 280

' Deep calleth unto deep,' . . E. H. CHAPIN, . . 282

Extracts from Letters, . . . MRS. N. T. MUNROE, . 296



\ The Fairest Flower. (Frontispiece.) Painted by ROCHARD. Eu-

graved by ANDREWS & SMITH.

Vignette Title. Painted by WARREN. Engraved by PELTON.
Going to Market. Painted by GAINSBOROUGH. Engraved by AN-

The Prisoner of Gisora. Painted by WEHNERT. Engraved by


V The Departure. NORTH'S Daguerreotype. Engraved by ANDREWS

& SMITH 186

\ The Little Match Girl. Painted by G. H. BALLOU. Engraved by

ANDREWS & SMITH. ... .... 237

\ Dining out. Painted by CROWQUILL. Engraved by ANDREWS &

SMITH . .265





THE readers of the ROSE were apprised in its last
volume, that the lady who for ten years directed its
publication, had been suddenly called by Providence
to a higher than earthly mission. She died on
Sunday, the 16th of July, 1848. A touching and
heartfelt tribute to her worth, from the pen of one
who had long known and loved her, uttered the
feeling of loss which all experienced who were
fortunate enough to win her friendship ; and it is
not with the hope of adding anything to the elo-
quent truthfulness and pathos of those pages, that
this article is written. Neither can we hope, within
so small a compass, to do justice to her genius or
her virtues. Before this number of the Rose can
be in the hands of its patrons, the friends of Mrs.
Mayo will have had an opportunity to become

acquainted with the quality of her mind, and the


features of her character, through the memoir which
her husband has prepared with such affectionate
faithfulness, and the selections from her writings
which he has made with such discriminating taste.
Enough, if with the aid thus furnished, and the
inspiration of hallowed recollections, the writer of
this notice shall be able to suggest an outline of her
nature, which those who knew her best can recog-
nize, and which will convey some slight impression
of her excellence to those who knew her not.

We learn from her memoir that Sarah Carter
Edgarton was born the 17th of March, 1819, in
Shirley village, Mass., about thirty-five miles from
Boston. There, surrounded by quiet country
scenery, and in the bosom of a large and harmoni-
ous family, she passed her life, with the exception
of her two married years. It was a life unmarked
by startling or romantic incidents. It was not
diversified by changes of scene, or contrasts of
fortune. Its surface was not ruffled by the
tempests of experience ; but pure as the brook
which glided by her cottage home, and with the
modest murmur of religious trust, it flowed on
regularly and peacefully to the sea.

A tendency to poetic expression was disclosed by
her in girlhood. It was in her seventeenth year
that her first compositions, both prose and verse,
were given to the public. In a very short time

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 11

they attracted wide and favorable notice, and gave
her a place in the front rank of the literary writers
in the denomination to which she belonged. The
style of her earliest prose articles is remarkably
smooth and pure, and she soon acquired a ready
command of graceful and delicate expression ; yet
her prose fictions interest us least of all her com-
positions. The ' Gossipings of Idle Hours,' first
published in the Ladies' Repository, are more at-
tractive to our taste than any of her stories ; and
this vein of writing, doubtless, she might have
worked with great success. But poetry was her
calling, and the natural utterance of her being.
The source of the poetic inspiration which was
granted to her, may be easily discerned. It was
sympathy with nature. Her poetic faculty was not
of the creative stamp. It was not that intense
spiritual fire by which all the elements of experience
are smelted, to be recast without dross in purer
molds. It was not restless longing for a beauty
which haunts the soul like an enchanting spectre,
but never meets it as an embodied fact. Neither did
it manifest its presence by giving wings to thought,
thus enabling the mind to reach directly heights of
truth that lie above the winding foot-paths of the un-
derstanding. It was interpretative and sympathetic.
Spiritual insight, not imagination, was the peculiarity
of her genius. Her husband has truly said in her


biography, that ' nature always addressed itself more
to her inner, than outer sense. She was a part,
rather than an admirer of it, and her spirit was bright
or shadowy as the landscape about her varied in ex-
pression.' She saw the beauty in real things which
is hidden from the common eye. Poetic power was
given to her in the right proportions to make her
content with the world about her. It did not lead
her away in feverish dreams for an impossible ideal,
but disclosed the loveliness of the real in nature and
human life. She was raised by it just enough
above the world to appreciate the world truly, to
live in it rightly, and to enjoy it thoroughly.

No one ever possessed more healthy poetic sen-
sibilities ; to no one did they ever impart more
constant and pure delight. Her communion with
all the forms of the material universe was like the
intercourse of human friendship. It was not mere
admiration of creative art, nor the joyous excitement
received by the senses, which made nature so
fascinating to her, but instinctive apprehension of
the mute spiritual meaning that is imprisoned in it,
and ever struggles to exhale into, and find expression
through the sympathetic mind. And this was kept
from degenerating into sentimentalism, by a deep
reverence for nature, which strengthened with her
culture, and which made it a constant religious
revelation to her heart. This feeling is finely

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 13

stated in some verses of that noble poem, ' The
Pervading God,' mitten in 1847, and, in many
respects, the best production of her pen.

' When but a child, there was to me
A greatness and a mystery

O'er all I saw ;

There hung about me every where,
In earth and sky, and cloud and air,
A brooding, penetrating awe !

The palest flower that o'er the brook
Hung trembling, had within its look

A meaning deep ;
A spirit seemed to interfuse
The frailest forms, the dullest hues ;

Each had an awful life to keep.

Such mysteries made me weep and pray ;
I stole from outward life away

To that within ;

I asked my soul with all its powers,
To league itself with silent hours,

Some answer from the deep to win.'

The answer which she won came, not alone in the
richer beauty which nature unveiled to her vision,
but also in the divine peace and religious joy
nourished by sympathy with the Creator's works,
and which made her heart

' An ever full unsounded sea
Of Faith and Love.'


It is impossible to determine the rank -which Mrs.
Mayo's poetic powers rightfully claim, for she did
not live to give an adequate exhibition of them.
She was only preparing to write when she was
called away. Not having enjoyed great advantages
for mental culture in her youth, it was only during
the last two or three years of her life that she was
introduced to the highest literature of the age, and
looked out over the range of knowledge and specula-
tion. She was fast rising to be a scholar in several
of the noblest fields of thought. Her friends might
well hope for the richest results from this increasing
breadth of mental experience, for she possessed an
intellect which, if not remarkably critical, was
massive, vigorous, and singularly appreciative.
Only those who knew her personally and intimately,
understood that a mind capable of grasping the
broadest -generalizations of philosophy was concealed
beneath the delicate fancy and feminine grace that
usually characterized her compositions. She read
widely, wisely and systematically. Every true book
which she read sharpened her eye, enlarged the
horizon of her vision, and made her taste more
catholic. The positive peculiarities of every author
were quickly and solely seen ; their merits she
instantly recognized ; what others found dangerous
had no bane for her. She was only the more dis-
interested for studying Groethe, more genial for

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 15

reading Carlyle, more Christian for an acquaintance
with the writings of Emerson, more pure in thought
for appreciating the merits of George Sand.

This wide and patient culture produced its
natural effect, by developing her artistic powers, and
raising the standard of excellence so high as to
induce frequent despair. While her latent capaci-
ties were fast ripening, she grew the more dissatis-
fied with the results of her effort, and at last
confessed to her husband, ' I shall never write good
poetry until I go to heaven.' The distance be-
tween her later poems 'Leila Grey/ * Udollo,'
' Nora, > ' Saint Valentine's Eve, ' ' Eda,' and
her earliest productions, in respect to subject,
rhythm, and artistic finish, only suggests the almost
certain rapidity of improvement, which, had she
lived a few years longer, would have raised her to a
position among the first female poets of the English
tongue. As a translator, too, she has had few
equals. The excellence of her version of some of
Beranger's ballads is enough to establish her powers.
Nor can any German scholar fail to be charmed with
the almost verbal accuracy and rhythmic beauty of
her renderings from Goethe, Uhland and Miiller.
It is a fact worth remembering, that probably the
best translations ever made in English from German
poetry have appeared in this annual Mrs. Sawyer's
version of Schiller's Cassandra, published some years


since, and the more recent translations from Uhland,
by Mrs. Mayo.

We feel, however, that we do injustice to Mrs.
Mayo's memory by dwelling so long at this time
upon her mental endowments. It is the curse of
modern life that the intellect is cultivated too dis-
proportionately, and reverenced more than charac-
ter. It is too generally supposed that they only
possess ability, in the true sense of the term, who
can write with power and brilliancy. We estimate
too readily noisy teaching above silent living. The
test of greatness which the world instinctively ap-
plies, is mental strength, originality of intellect.
But what distinguished Mrs. Mayo most, was, not
the exercise of faculties which separated her from
the rest of the world, but the use which she made of
the opportunities of experience which are common
to all.

The greatest praise is bestowed upon her when
we say that, however great her powers might be, she
was greater. She seemed to feel that if any supe-
rior gifts were bestowed upon her, it was only that
she might live more constantly from the impulses of
a higher nature ; and there was a poetry, wisdom,
and grace in her life, which her pen could not com-
municate, and which no pages can convey. When
her friends were in her presence, they felt it was her
soul that was great, her character that shed the in-

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 17

sinuating charm. She was a fresh revelation of
goodness to all that knew her.

It is difficult to individualize character by the
pen, and through words alone ; as difficult as it
would be, by mere description, to suggest the dis-
tinctive expression of a fine countenance. The com-
ponent elements of her disposition may be abstract-
edly stated, but language cannot convey to a strang-
er the impression which it made. The stamp of a
great soul was upon her in this, that her peculiar
excellence was the poise and harmony of seemingly
opposite qualities. She was most diffident without
ever losing self-possession; she was rigidly and sternly
true to her own thought, and yet so modest and
humble before others, that one might doubt whether
she dared to think in opposition to those she loved ;
and beneath the most sensitive dread of wounding
the feelings of those about her, was concealed a
sense of duty which was never compromised by hes-
itation, and a strength of will which never flagged
in the most trying emergencies of life.

The books which she read and appreciated, and
the subjects in which she took delight, might seem
to indicate a masculine texture of mind. But in
her nature the intellect was so subordinated to the
affections, and so transfigured by the halo of senti-
ment, that of all her sex she seemed most womanly.
However powerful might have been her thoughts,


her feeling and love were infinitely greater. If the
prose stones which she published are often colored
by the hues of a not very healthy romance, the
unhealthiness was only in the expression, not in her
soul. No one was .more faithful to the most homely
practical claims. The virtues of Mary and Martha
were completed and reconciled in her. She was
not ' cumbered with much serving,' and was
' careful,' though not ' troubled about many things,'
because she had ' chosen the better part,' and
had learned that humility which dignifies what-
ever it performs. The spirit of poetry was poured
into the daily household duties, and ennobled ordi-
nary cares. No fanatic could indulge in more raptur-
ous dreams of heaven ; and it seemed to be because
of these, that the earth was so lovely, and afforded
her such calm content. Her mind was ever busy
and healthily ambitious ; but her countenance never
expressed anything but quiet and repose, that noth-
ing could disturb. Visions of ideal excellence were
swarming in her imagination ; yet the distance which
separated the men and women of actual life from
these, seemed to give her greater interest in their
experience, and charity for their frailties. Love for
her friends was the only intense and immoderate
passion which swayed her soul, and self-denial in
their behalf was the sweetest self-indulgence.

But the prominent charm of her character was a

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 19

sweetness of temper, which shed sunshine wherever
she went, and irresistibly attracted all hearts. It
gave an indefinable fascination to the tones of her
voice, beamed in her countenance, and was the
general impression which her presence made. All
the elements that blend into and constitute the
loftiest serenity of spirit faith which illuminates all
mysteries, a will ever faithful to the slightest inti-
mations of conscience, a heart throbbing with in-
stinctive devotion to the good of others met in her
character. Whoever looked upon her countenance,
felt that it was the expression of a spirit which had
won true peace by living in harmony with the high-
est laws of life.

This leads us to speak more particularly of the
religious elements in her nature. Strictly speaking,
religion was not an element in her character, but
the crown of it, and the atmosphere in which she
lived. She was religious, because, in the true sense,
she was natural. It was the spirit of life within
her, an instinct, not a rule. It can be said of her,
what can be said of so few who have lived, that she
enriched the world with a new spiritual experience.
The form which true Christian piety assumes in the
lives of different persons, depends on the tempera-
ment of the individual, and the peculiar quality of
the divine nature, and the aspects of religion which
they are most attracted to contemplate and love.


The essence of religious life is the recognition of


God, worship and communion with him. But God
can be approached from many sides, and can be
adored through countless channels. The names of
Payson and Channing, Fox and Augustine, Wesley
and Ware, suggest the diverse forms which equally
profound and sincere piety may assume. The great
saintly minds of Christian history are ' like crys-
tals, which are dull as we turn them in our hand
until we come to a particular angle ; then, they show
deep, beautiful, and differing colors.'

The truth which Mrs. Mayo learned from Jesus,
and which enlightened and controlled her soul, was
God's paternity and goodness. In passing through
her translucent spirit, it seemed to receive no un-
healthy chromatic tinge, but irradiated her life with
its pure, simple, colorless beams. She rose to that
perfect love which casteth out fear. Her life was a
beautiful commentary on the text, ' He that dwell-
eth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.' If
it ever could be said of any on earth, it might of
her, that she enjoyed a ' vision in God.' Her
love of nature was not sentimental, but religious.
The beauty of the flower, the grandeur of the hills,
the melody of the brook, the carol of birds, the
silence of the woods, the sublimity of the sea, were
only varied tones or aspects of omnipresent benefi-

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 21

cence, winch all nature reveals and veils. To her

From the lowly violet sod,
Links are lengthened unto God.
All of holy stainless sweet,
That on earth we hear or meet,
Are but types of that pure love
Brightly realized above.'

Mrs. Mayo's temperament fitted her to appre-
ciate the central truth of the gospel, God's love ;
and sorrow educated and confirmed her faith in it.
The trials and afflictions through which she passed,
instead of clouding its light, only made her rejoice
in it more deeply, and feel how necessary it is to
the life and peace of the soul. Although her life
was retired and quiet, she had all the tough ques-
tions of experience to meet and solve. For these
questions do not spring out of any particular forms
of experience. Every sensitive mind, whether born
in a palace or a hovel, whether educated by pros-
perity or grief, must be tortured with and answer
them. Over us all is the law that, in some way,
we be ' made perfect through suffering. ' In her
life the struggle was scarcely seen, so easy was the

That a soul like hers could irradiate the humblest
duties of the household with a lofty spirit, and make
them minister spiritual education and contentment


to her heart, shows the healthiness of her nature,
and suggests the depth of her religion. But the
power of her faith was most strikingly revealed in
the temper with which she bore the most trying
bereavements. Then was it seen that, to her heart,
God was the great reality of being, and heaven and
eternity postulates of the soul. Her friendships
and attachments were all spiritual ; and when the
earthly medium of communication was taken away,
her friendships still remained, not only undiniinish-
ed, but more pure.

' God gives us love. Something to love
He lends us ; but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.'

In her spirit, love had grown to ripeness. It was
the power of loving, and the exercise of it, which
brought the purest happiness, and her friends could
never be lost to her, until the love which they had
awakened, perished. Death was almost a visible
translation to the eye of her faith, and from the
rifts in the heavenly atmosphere, made by the
ascending forms of those who were dearest to her,
new light fell upon her soul, and hallowed her
earthly path. A year after Mrs. Scott's death, she
writes : ' Whenever I think of her, it seems to
me that she is present, that she knows my thoughts ;
and I have a feeling of reverence and awe, very

MRS. S. C. E. MAYO. 23

like that I used to experience in her personal soci-
ety.' When her father lay at the point of death,
she said in a letter, ' Life seems beautiful and
peaceful to me. If there be any storm or tumult in
the world, it is without and not within. God's
presence is too holy for any discord to intrude, and
this day I feel that I am truly with him.' And
after his departure she wrote to a friend ' There
are times when father's death fills me with the most
solemn and intense happiness, for I seem really to
see him in that blissful world where his ransomed
spirit now abides.' Her sister's death, which soon
followed, threw no shadow over her soul. ' The
time may come,' she wrote, ' when death may touch
me more sorely than it ever yet has done ; but I do
most earnestly believe, there will ever be to me a
sweet mingling of holy joy in the bitterest cup I may
ever have to drink.' That cup was given in the
removal of a brother whom she had educated by her
own labors, and who only lived long enough to reveal
the loss which the world experienced in his transla-
tion to a higher sphere. And even then, from a sick
bed she was prompted by her faith to write to those
less deeply bereaved, but more afflicted than herself,
' Even in his dying hour, I felt that the immortal

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Online LibrarySarah C. EdgartonThe Rose of Sharon : a religious souvenir (Volume 1850) → online text (page 1 of 16)