ome joys all her own. Writing
to Jane Smith in 1852, she says: "I chide myself that I am not happier
than I am, surrounded by so many blessings, but there are times when I
feel as though the sun of earthly bliss had set for me. I know not
what would have become of me but for Angelina's children. They have
strewed my solitary path with flowers, and gemmed my sky with stars.
My heart has brooded o'er sorrows untold, until life has seemed an
awful blank, humanity a cheat, and myself an outcast. Then have come
the soft accents of my children's voices, and they have spoken to me
so lovingly, that I have turned from my bitter thoughts and have said:
'Forgive thy poor, weak servant, Lord.'"

All through Sarah's life, children had a great attraction for her.
Even amid her cares and doubts at Eagleswood she writes: "Surrounded
by all these dear young people, and drinking in from their exuberance,
and scarcely living my own life, I cannot but be cheerful."

And describing an evening in the school parlor, when she joined in the
Virginia reel, she says: "The children make one feel young if we will
only be children with them. I owe them so much that I shall try to be
cheerful to the end of my days."

And in this school, where boys and girls of all ages and all
temperaments mingled, "Aunt Sai" was the great comforter and
counsellor. Her inexhaustible tenderness and mother-love blessed all
who came near her and soothed all who had a heartache. The weak and
erring found in her a frank but pitying rebuker; the earnest and good,
a kind friend and wise helper, and a child never feared to go to her
either to ask a favor or to confess a fault.

At Eagleswood the Welds kept up as far as practicable their frugal
habits, though, soon after their establishment, they all modified
their Graham diet so far as to take meat once a day. Sarah's economy,
especially in trifles, was remarkable, almost as much so as the
untiring, almost painful industry of herself and Mrs. Weld. A penny
was never knowingly wasted, a minute never willingly lost. Among other
thrifty devices, she generally wrote to her friends on the backs of
circulars, on blank pages of notes she received, on almost any clean
scrap, in fact. Angelina often remonstrated with her, but to no avail.

"It gives me a few more pennies for my love purse, and my friends
won't mind," she would say.

This "love purse" was well named. Into it were cast all her small
economies: a car-fare when s