[Boston—Thursday, 3 May 1866]
April Thursday May 3d Jamie went to a revival meeting for a few moments in Park St. Church. He had observed the preacher several days as he came out following his crowd of listeners; the women pressing his hands, putting on his fur tippet and caressing him as women know so well how to do to their “minister.”
He found the church crowded and stood to listen, there were Dr Kirk, Dr Rollin Neale and other worthies of the orthodox persuasion. The preacher was enlarging his voice and his platitudes; he seemed to be enumerating certain sins, presently he said “And brethren and sisters, Silence is sin—silence is sin. I knew a brother down at Quin’s Corner who was a silent Christian. He had long seen his people were in a wrong way and he wished to warn them so he made a list and put it in his pocket, 22 names. I have the list with me, 22 poor poor souls—well, his wedding day was approaching, he always celebrated his wedding day and he was to have great rejoicings, and while the rejoicings was agoing on and he had drawed his friends and neighbours together he said to his wife, I must go to the Post-office this afternoon and get my letters, so he went but turned to look back and said what a beautiful sight as he saw his children and friends altogether there. Well, my friends he hadn’t gone mor’n 20 steps than he fell down dead, and only had time to put his hand to his head and say “Congestion” there were the 22 names a-reposin’ in his pocket and he a silent Christian, my friends it is awful!!”
At this J. came off.
I went to see Hallie Spofford and felt rested as one can only feel by the presence of a friend. She showed me her [illegible word] pictures with their exquisite fancies and all her treasures but a thousand times better showed me herself with her endeavors and her love.
A light came from her to me which made the day peaceful.
In the evening we went to see the remarkable impersonation of “Solon Shingle” by John Owens at the theatre—but there was still that incompre[he]nsible something; the essence of a spirit haunting me which made love and life rich enough, but passing like the highest cloud. It seemed an angel stooped and touched me, there too in the crowd. I know it was so but have not yet learned what he said I can interpret nothing. I only felt the fragrance and heard the rushing of the wings. I think this was not altogether Hallie’s influence either only she mingled with the sweetness. A shutting out of earth’s turmoil, a glimpse of peace and a shutting in with rest even among the gay crowd, how strange it was. Love spoke to me.
