I had naturally expected a woman of stately and commanding presence, and one who would be equal to any emergency; but she seemed to me to be only a child in years and experience.
“I have ordered up my baggage,” she said with childlike simplicity, “and I have brought my little melodeon with me. I thought it might be useful.”
Sure enough, when her luggage came, and the box containing the instrument was opened, she took out the smallest melodeon I ever saw.
“What shall I do with that dear little child from Rhode Island and her little melodeon?” I said to my secretary, Mary Shelton, now Mrs. Judge Houston of Burlington, Iowa. But she could not solve the problem.
When the heavy work of the day was through, weary and full of care and anxiety, we joined Miss B—— in the parlor. After some conversation, she said,—
“Would you like to have me play and sing?”
We assented, and she sat down at the instrument and began to play and sing.
We were amazed and charmed. It seemed as though the curtains of heaven were lifted, and the songs of an angel were floating down upon us.
The tones of the little melodeon were soft and clear, and the voice of the singer was sweet and remarkably sympathetic. Her notes thrilled one; there was life and spirit in them. After listening to her for an hour or more, weariness and anxiety were gone, and I knew just what to do with Lizzie B——.
There were tens of thousands of aching and burdened hearts all about us; and she, with her wonderful gift of song, could lift some drooping spirit, and pour the balm of peace into some wounded, fainting hearts. I took her and her melodeon to Campbell Hospital the next morning, and told her to sing as she had opportunity.