"When I first wrote to thee, the supply of excellent clothing, furnished by New York Friends, and other quarters, seemed so ample that, to my eyes, the subject of further need, did not suggest itself. I thought the time must come when such wants must be satisfied. But that time dawns not yet. The hospitals for colored people are a heavy drain on the clothing. Now, that the army advances, there are daily arrivals of freedmen; they come with only the clothing they have on, and must have a change to preserve health."
LETTERS FROM A LADY AGENT IN RICHMOND, 1866.
"In my jaunt to Deep Creek, and to the poor cabins in Dismal Swamp, I helped mend six bridges before our horse could cross, borrowing rails from the fence. It was a very hard trip—no chance for a single dinner while gone—but it paid. The same night I mended bridges, I found work of a different kind. Going on business to the Bute Street Church, I found a love-feast under full headway: about two hundred were present; the excitement terrible among the young converts, who, in their frantic leaps, broke lamps and windows, and filled the house with perfect uproar. I found the new pastor dared not risk his popularity by checking it. Courage was given me to make my way to the pulpit, when I at once had permission to speak. All was still as need be, while I appealed to their judgment, and the teachings of the Bible. I saw I had the sympathy of most, and when at last, I said, 'wait till the wind, and the earthquake, and the fire have all passed by, and then go to your homes and listen to the still small voice by which God himself will teach you; and oh, remember, my young sisters, that the proof of your growth in grace is not the feelings you have here tonight, but the life you will lead to-morrow.' There was such an earnest 'amen,' all over the house, as gave me hope again that they will rise above this great delusion. Many came to thank me. 'It was just what we needed, and they will hear it from you.'"
"Deeply impressed with the moral wants of these poor creatures, especially the women, and their need of friendly counsel in their new position, I have opened Mother's meetings—now held weekly, in each of our three-school districts—where they are invited to come with their work and their babies. I talk familiarly with them about their household matters, the cheapest and most wholesome food, the best ways of cooking it, and the right care of their children, and their duties to their husbands—often being greatly helped out in my own stock of knowledge by the practical experience of some nice old aunty, who tells how she manages, till the whole group is at ease and can confide their troubles and trials. Then I read, teach, or talk to them. Finally, all lay aside their work, and the babies are hushed up, while they listen to a chapter from the Bible; and the devotional pause at the close is solemn and impressive. Those who cannot spare two or three hours, hurry in at the last, and I hear them saying 'I'se just goin' over to prayers, 'pears like it gives me such a lift.'"
LOVE FOR THE BIBLE.
At a great fire in the city of New York a hundred houses had been burned. Dr. Ely overtook a colored woman who was carrying under one arm a bundle of wood, and under the other a large Bible.
"Poor woman," said he, "have you been burnt out too?" "Yes, sir," said she, "but blessed be God, I'm alive." "You are very old to be turned out of house and home." "I'm well stricken in years, but God does it." "Have you saved nothing but the Bible?" "Nothing," said she, "but one trunk of things; but this blessed Book is worth more than all the rest; it makes me feel better than all the rest. So long as I keep this, I am content."