Of all her seventeen or eighteen published volumes, “Stepping Heavenward” is the one which best represents her and her life-work—­not that she produced nothing else of value, nor that many of her other books were not widely read, greatly enjoyed, and truly useful; but “Stepping Heavenward” seemed to meet so many real, deep, inarticulate cravings in such a multitude of hearts, that the response to it was instant and general....

She wrote for readers of all ages.  Not the least fruitful work of her pen was bestowed upon the little ones; and in the number of copies circulated, the Susy Books stand next to Stepping Heavenward.  Through those little half allegories she initiated the children into the rudiments of self-control, discipline and consecration, and taught eyes and hands and tongue and feet the noble uses of the kingdom of God.  Even from these children’s stories the thought of the discipline of suffering was not absent, and Mr. Pain, as many mothers will remember, figures among Little Susy’s Six Teachers.  With the same pure and wholesome lessons, and with the same easy vivacity she appealed to youth through “The Flower of the Family,” “The Percys,” and “Nidworth,” and it would be hard to say by readers of what age was monopolised the interest in “Aunt Jane’s Hero,” “Fred and Maria and Me,” and those two little gems—­“The Story Lizzie Told,” and “Gentleman Jim.”

While all her writings were religious in the best sense, they were in nothing more so than in their cheerfulness.  They were not only happy and hopeful in their general tone, but sparkled with her delicate and sprightly humor.  The children of her books were not religious puppets, moving in time to the measured wisdom of their elders, but real children of flesh and blood, acting and talking out their impish conceits, and in nowise conspicuous by their precocious goodness.

I think that those who knew her best in her literary relations, will agree with me that no better type of a consecrated literary talent can be found in the lists of authors.  She received enough evidences of popular appreciation to have turned the heads of many writers.  Over 200,000 bound volumes of her books have been sold in this country alone, to say nothing of the circulation in England, France, and Germany.  She was not displeased at success, as I suppose no one is—­but success to her meant doing good.  She did not write for popularity, and her aversion to having her own literary work mentioned to her was so well known by her friends, that even those who wished to express to her their gratitude for the good they had received from her books were constrained to be silent.  “While,” says her publisher, “she was very sensitive to any criticism based on a misconception or a perversion of her purpose, never, in all my intercourse with her, did I discover the slightest evidence of a spirit of literary pique, or pride, or ambition.”

In attempting to sum up the characteristics of her writings, time will suffer me only to state the more prominent features without enlarging upon details.