To Mary Harris, who was visiting in Newgate.
If you knew or could imagine what effect the presence of a noble soul can have on those usually surrounded by a hurrying struggling crowd; what it is to be taught to look at spiritual beauty; what to a much worn care-pressed being it is to know at last that, shut out tho’ she has seemed from all the best and most honourable around her, borne downwards as she has been by the weight of many sorrows, much anguish and inward evil, there is yet left, even on this earth, one who will take her as she is, and love her because she has that in her which is God given. This last she will learn afterwards, and I know that, deep in those hearts hardened by crime and degraded, there yet is human feeling to be called out by nothing so much as trust and love.
39, Devonshire Street,
November 9th, 1856.
To Mary Harris.
I thank God for work, and for so blessing our work. I believe I might often say with Ruskin the first clause of the sentence, certainly always the last, “I am happy while I work; when I play I am miserable.”
Is it not strange that tho’ I have an unusually clear idea of the sermon, the only impression last Sunday afternoon is one of complete quiet? It was no effort to understand, nor was I, as usual, dreadfully tired in church; but I had the consciousness, not of peace nor of rest, but of quiet, such as when one sits out of doors in the country, not thinking, only seeing.
4, Russell Place,
January 17th, 1857.
To Mary Harris.