Yet the memory of the woman whose son had been killed on the field of Gettysburg and whose lily, now browned and withered with the years, I cherish with such tender care, softened the words that were like blows to my ear and heart. Thus the power of one pure heart radiating its love upon the world as an odorous flower diffuses fragrance on the surrounding atmosphere, uplifts the sorrowing spirit and strengthens it to withstand the rude assaults of a vindictive world.
XXVII A FAMILIAR FACE
I had no stateroom in the Lake Champlain steamer, and my little sick baby and its poor tired mother were very thankful when, after the long, dreary night, they welcomed the dawn of day which counted them many miles nearer to their Mecca.
I have forgotten the name of the place from which we took the train for Montreal after leaving the steamer, but I remember a fact of more consequence concerning it—that it was the wrong place.
On reaching the Canada side the passengers were summoned to the custom-house office to have their baggage examined, and I, with my carpet-bag, basket and baby, followed my fellow travelers. When my turn came I handed the officer my keys and checks, which, after a glance, he gave back to me, saying with haste and indifference, as if it might have been the most trivial of matters:
"Your luggage has been left on the States side. Your checks were not exchanged."
Taking the wrong train at the wrong point put me into Montreal later than I was expected, but I religiously followed instructions to remain on the train which stopped over at Montreal, until I should be claimed, like a general delivery letter.