to Henry and me at luncheon one day. He
sat next to his wife, and they held hands nearly all the while; I
thought of that time when the great preacher was tried, and all through
the trial his wife showed the world her faith in his innocence by
sitting by his side and holding his hand.

He was indeed a great preacher. I have a little faded card in my
possession now: "Mrs. Henry W. Beecher." "Will ushers of Plymouth Church
please seat the bearer in the Pastor's pew." And in the Pastor's pew I
sat, listening to that magnificent bass-viol voice with its persuasive
low accent, its torrential scorn! After the sermon I went to the
Beechers' home. Mr. Beecher sat with a saucer of uncut gems by him on
the table. He ran his hand through them from time to time, held them up
to the light, admiring them and speaking of their beauty and color as
eloquently as an hour before he had spoken of sin and death and
redemption.

He asked me to choose a stone, and I selected an aquamarine, and he had
it splendidly mounted for me in Venetian style to wear in "The Merchant
of Venice." Once when he was ill, he told me, his wife had some few
score of his jewels set up in lead--a kind of small stained-glass
window--and hung up opposite his bed. "It did me more good than the
doctor's visits," he laughed out!

Mrs. Beecher was very remarkable. She had a way of lowering her head and
looking at you with a strange intentness--gravely--kindly and quietly.
At her husband she looked a world of love, of faith, of undying
devotion. She was fond of me, although I was told she disliked women
generally and had been brought up to think all actresses children of
Satan. Obedience to the iron rules which had always surrounded her had
endowed her with extraordinary self-control. She would not allow herself
ever to feel heat or cold, and could stand any pain or discomfort
without a word of complaint.

She told me once that when she and her sister were children, a friend
had given them some lovely bright blue silk, and as the material was so
fine they thought they would have it made up a little more smartly than
was usual in their somber religious home. In spite of their father's
hatred of gaudy clothes, they ventured on a little "V" at the neck,
hardly showing more than the throat; but still, in a household where
blue silk itself was a crime, it was a bold venture. They put on the
dresses for the first time for five o'clock dinner, stole downstairs
with trepida