Correspondence (incoming): Hook, James, 1893

When I read of that noble band of women - Frances Willard - Lady Henry Sumerset - Mrs Bootom and a score of others, I long to be associated with them in the good work, but alas, it looks so far away it may never be. There are many things that seem a mystery to us. Why do some of earths children have the means to satisfy every wish - while others go hungering through the world. But this is only one of the mysteries of life; "God's ways are not our ways". There is moral heroism existing all around us; humble toilers in the vineyard of life who would be great in a different sphere. Every asperation of the heart may prompt them to a nobler work, but between them and the fulfilment of their hopes is an impassable gulf of duties which circumstances require of them. These need the strength that

human sympathy can give and the quickening influence of association with kindred minds. Such communion is to the spirit what air and sunshine and the gentle dews are to bud and bloom, without which they can never develop in all their strength and beauty, but wither and die for want proper nutrition.

What the world needs is more love and sympathy. But there is little sympathy for the quiet unobserved heroism of common life.

But shall I speak of myself? When out in the country did you never pass a wood lot, where the wood-mans ax had prostrated every tree but one, for some purpose this tree was left standing all alone.

"made perfect through suffering." It was not the gold and gems, or a thought of the high position you occupy among the great and gifted of the land that attracted me, but the noble soul, the tender sympathy which shined through and lighted up your face.

As I read of your tender interest in the feelings of others, your deed of charity and the noble work you are doing for the elevation of others, I felt that you were "Blessed among Women", and from my heart I wanted to thank you.

The most satisfactory enjoyment in this life, the one that pays the largest interest, is in making others happy. This has ever been my ideal of a true life to alleviate suffering humanity to help them up to a higher purer life.

gather round me, but through the darkness. I hear the voice "Lo I am with you always" The question - why my life should be one of sorrow and disappointment. I leave with the All-wise Father, and in His own way He will carry me through, "Then mine eyes shall see the King in his beauty, they shall behold the land that is very far off."

May God bless you in all your labors of love, and when called to "Come up higher", may you hear the Wellcome "well done" is the wish of

Laura M Graves

I often compare myself to that tree.

I am the youngest of a family of eight, my mother is living and this is her birthday, 92 years old; one by one they have left us: aside from mother I have no nearer relative than cousins. Twenty years ago my only sister died, this so affected mother with her other afflictions that she has been partially insane. For ten years I have scarcely left her, and for the last three, have not felt safe to leave her for an hour, and she wants me right with her all the time, night and day.

Shut in, as I am, and deprived of all most everything that makes life pleasant, do you wonder that I long for sympathy? O that my heart is

stired [sic] when I read of what others are doing. I have had glimpses of what life might be, and many previous friends, but they are gone, and have left me only the memory of what they were to me; and today I know the full meaning of that word "I love."

My one enjoyment is my garden. I am passionately fond of flowers - of music - and everything beautiful in Nature, and Art.

When I read of so many places of interest that I would like to visit, I long for wings or wealth to bridge the distance, but would the eye ever be satisfied with seeing or the ear with hearing?

Books are my most enjoyable companion, they help me to pass so many weary hours, and turn my thoughts away from self. Clouds of gloom often

a sweet letter from Laura Graves who read of you in the Home Journal