Canadian Wild Flowers

Excerpt

LIFE SKETCH.

The hill country of Judea, which furnished a home for the virgin mother of our Lord, is not the only rural region from whence have come women endowed with intelligence and integrity, philanthropy and religion, who by pen and tongue have brightened and blest the hearts and homes of thousands. Nurtured amidst the wilds of nature, instead of the bustle and bewildering attractions of city life, they have grown strong to do battle for the right and to bear testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. Of this class is the one whose life and labors we are now to consider.

Memphremagog is an enchanting lake, two-thirds of which lie in the Eastern Townships of Canada, in the Province of Quebec, and the upper third in Vermont. Its extreme length from north to south is about thirty miles, its breadth varying from one to three miles. It is semi-circular in form and bestudded with islands; while on its western shore rise mountains of no ordinary attractions, among them Owl's Head, which towers about 2,500 feet above the surface of the lake, affording from its summit a panoramic view of surpassing loveliness. It was at "The Outlet" of this lake there was born, Oct. 27, 1834, Helen Mar, the youngest daughter of Abel B. and Polly JOHNSON; and there she spent—with the exception of the time devoted to attending or teaching school—almost her entire life. Of cities she knew nothing by experience; but as her reading was extensive she knew much of the world by mental surveys. The book of Nature was her delight. Its illustrations of stones and streams, lakes and rivers, mountains and forests, birds and flowers, were ever attractive to her. At an early age she began to exhibit rare poetic talent. Of "a number of short pieces, written between the ages of twelve and fifteen years," the following, entitled "The Forest," has been preserved. It appeared in the Stanstead Journal—a paper to which she afterwards frequently contributed. It was probably the first article she ever had printed.

 "Let others seek sweet friendship's voice
    When grief the spirit bends,
  Let them find solace in the tones
    Of their beloved friends;
  But oh! when sorrow o'er me broods,
  Give me the dark, the dark green woods."

 "When pleasure lights the sparkling eye,
    And swells with rapture proud,
  Let others spend their joyous mirth
    Within the giddy crowd;
  But when o'er me no clouds are seen,
  Give me the forest, dark and green."

 "When pure devotion fills the heart,
    And breathes a yearning prayer,
  Let others wander to the church
    And pay their tribute there;
  But if o'er me such feelings steal,
  In the dark forest let me kneel."

 "When death comes o'er the pallid brow
    To number with the dead,
  Let others choose some lovely grave,
    Where tears will oft be shed;
  But let me, let me find a tomb
  Deep in the forest's darkening gloom."

Her life was not one of thrilling adventure, hairbreadth escapes, and deeds securing worldly applause, but quiet, unobtrusive and useful....