But it was in her husband’s parish that she found her chief interest and joy.  His people at first welcomed her in the warmest manner on her sainted father’s account, but they soon learned to love her for her own sake.  She early began to manifest among them that wonderful sympathy, which made her presence like sunshine in sick rooms and in the house of mourning, and, in later years, endeared her through her writings to so many hearts.  While her natural shyness and reserve caused her to shrink from everything like publicity, and even from that leadership in the more private activities of the church which properly belonged to her sex and station, any kind of trouble instantly aroused and called into play all her energies.  The sickness and death of little children wrought upon her with singular power; and, in ministering aid and comfort to bereaved mothers, she seemed like one specially anointed of the Lord for this gentle office.  Now, after the lapse of more than a third of a century, there are those in New Bedford and its vicinity who bless her memory, as they recall scenes of sharp affliction cheered by her presence and her loving sympathy.

The following reminiscences by one of her New Bedford friends, written not long after her death, belong here: 

Oh, that I had the pen of a ready writer!  How gladly would I depict her just as she came to New Bedford, a youthful bride and our pastor’s wife, more than a third of a century ago!  My remembrances of her are still fresh and delightful; but they have been for so many years silent memories that I feel quite unable fully to express them.  And yet I will try to give you a few simple details.  Several things strike me as I recall her in those days.  Our early experiences in the struggle of life had been somewhat similar and this drew us near to each other.  She was naturally very shy and in the presence of strangers, or of uncongenial persons, her reserve was almost painful; but with her friends—­especially those of her own sex—­all this vanished and she was full of animated talk.  Her conversation abounded in bright, pointed sayings, in fine little touches of humor, in amusing anecdotes and incidents of her own experience, which she related with astonishing ease and fluency, sometimes also in downright girlish fun and drollery; and all was rendered doubly attractive by her low, sweet woman’s voice and her merry, fitful laugh.  Yet these things were but the sparkle of a very deep and serious nature.  Even then her religious character was to me wonderful.  She seemed always to know just what was prompting her, whether, nature or grace; and her perception of the workings of the two principles was like an instinct.  While I, though cherishing a Christian hope, was still struggling in bondage under the law, she appeared to enjoy to the full the glorious liberty of the children of God.  And when I would say to her that I was constantly doing that which I ought not and leaving