She also wrote books on housekeeping. Her autobiography appeared in 1910, when she was 80, but she kept writing for more than ten more years, learning to type when she broke her wrist, and dictating her stories when her eyes failed. It is true I read that in wikipedia, which got her birth day wrong, but Mary Terhune was clearly a person of talent and industry. The following quote is a bit long, but I was so taken with her delicacy that I wanted to give her some space:
..[Ida is an orphan and a ward of the people who inhabit the house. We interrupt her conversation with a theologically inclined person she meets at a party] '.... my conscience is dumb. The thought of a God, almighty and holy, overwhelms me with awe—sometimes with terror. As Ruler and Judge, I pay Him homage, and obey, when I can, the letter of His law; but He does not care particularly for me, one of the most obscure of His countless subjects. I believe that He is a tender Father to the favoured ones who have tasted His grace, and they ought to adore and love. I thank Him, from afar off, for preservation—not for creation—and He does not call me nearer. You think me very wicked, Mr. Lacy; but, as I said, if I speak at all, I speak candidly.'
[Mr. Lacy] - 'I like your truthfulness. You express what others secretly feel; this distant respect is the natural tone of an enlightened mind, wedded to an unregenerate heart; and in your remarks, I detect the bitterness which is its concomitant, amounting, in some, to deadly enmity against their Maker and Redeemer. Do you read the Bible, may I ask?'
'Yes, occasionally.'
'From what motive?'
'I read it as a curiosity in literature—but that is not the principal reason.'
'Excuse, me I had no right to put the question. I wished to know if you had noticed one or two passages—such as, 'All day long I have stretched forth my hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people.' 'When I called, ye did not answer; when I spake, ye did not hear.' 'O Israel! thou hast destroyed thyself; but in me is thy hope!' There is scarcely a page which does not bear some moving expostulation or entreaty; and the disciple who knew Him best, condenses in one celestial drop the stream of revelation, 'God is Love!' Not a word of Power or Justice! We cannot exaggerate these attributes, but we may dwell upon them, to the exclusion of His long-suffering and loving-kindness.'
'You have a strange way of speaking of these matters,' said Ida. 'I am acquainted with a number of excellent Christians, who never refer to the name by which they are called, but at long intervals, in set terms, and in a tone which frightens the ' sinners' to whom they address their exhortations. I have been troubled whether to question their sincerity, or the faith which, they assert, controls them.'
'Doubt neither. Ascribe their silence to diffidence or a fear of giving offence; their unhappy manner, to ignorance of the proper method of managing hearts. It is to be regretted that the one reality upon the globe should be banished from familiar conversation. If a man is sleeping upon the sea-shore, the big waves washing his pillow at each surge, am I censurable if I end his happy slumbers? Or, to employ an illustration which suits me better, I have a dear friend, to whom you are a stranger. With my esteem for you, will not my desire to bring you together grow stronger? When I discover traits in you which he would approve, will not I tell you of him, and use every means to facilitate an acquaintance so pleasant and profitable? Especially, if a time is certainly coming when you will require his assistance, an emergency is to overtake you when all help but his will be vain, does it not become my imperative duty to implore you to accept the friendship he stands ready to bestow?'
'Do not the Scriptures speak of the veil that is upon their hearts?' said Ida.
'Yes—but it is the veil of unbelief. If we do not of ourselves endeavour to tear it away, the light which streams upon us, at its removal, may be too late. God does not need, but He demands our cooperation in His schemes for our salvation. There is our friend, Charley Dana; he is late for a gentleman of his punctual habits.'
The conversation changed. Ida would gladly have heard more of a topic so unusual, and previously so unpleasing, but he dropped it, and she did not oppose him. The manner, more than the matter of his language, took her fancy. He did not arrogate superiority of sense or goodness, and had none of the stereotyped cant she dreaded; he did not preach, but talked easily and quietly; most of the time with the smile she thought so beautiful, and she observed his avoidance of 'you' and ' I,' substituting, when it could be done, ' we ' and 'us,' as if to lay a platform of perfect equality. ..... Mr. Lacy withstood his jailer's offers of liberation. 'If she were inclined to change her place, or to promenade, he was at her service, but no alteration could better his condition;' and Ida's fears of detaining him being dissipated by this straightforward avowal, she abandoned herself to the enjoyment of communion with a noble intellect and finely-attuned spirit. The announcement of supper, the tocsin of liberty to a majority of the company, interrupted their lively dialogue...
The day after! Mr. Read was growly and headachy;—Josephine in her worst humour, and itching to vent it. The breakfast hour was enlivened by a continual peppering of small shot from her, varied by a big gun from her father. He sneered at her arrangements and company, saying much that was cuttingly true, more (really, than he was aware of; and she pecked at him and the servants. In spite of her dislike, Ida pitied her, as she surveyed the heaps of unwashed dishes and glasses, the carpets spotted with wine, cake and jelly trampled into their velvet, and the forlorn disorder that reigned over all. She was on the point of offering her assistance, when Josephine brushed by her, with a peremptory order to 'folks who were cluttering up the room to be off, .... Herself, the cat, and the footman, who was collecting the remains of the feast, comprising the auditory, Ida thought herself justifiable in taking a share of the hint.
......
As to Ida, the close of her evening had more than compensated for the ennui of the beginning; she had no foiled stratagems, no tangled snares to lament....
This scene was sketched by a parson's wife in mid nineteenth century America.
[Mr. Lacy] - 'I like your truthfulness. You express what others secretly feel; this distant respect is the natural tone of an enlightened mind, wedded to an unregenerate heart; and in your remarks, I detect the bitterness which is its concomitant, amounting, in some, to deadly enmity against their Maker and Redeemer. Do you read the Bible, may I ask?'
'Yes, occasionally.'
'From what motive?'
'I read it as a curiosity in literature—but that is not the principal reason.'
'Excuse, me I had no right to put the question. I wished to know if you had noticed one or two passages—such as, 'All day long I have stretched forth my hands unto a disobedient and gainsaying people.' 'When I called, ye did not answer; when I spake, ye did not hear.' 'O Israel! thou hast destroyed thyself; but in me is thy hope!' There is scarcely a page which does not bear some moving expostulation or entreaty; and the disciple who knew Him best, condenses in one celestial drop the stream of revelation, 'God is Love!' Not a word of Power or Justice! We cannot exaggerate these attributes, but we may dwell upon them, to the exclusion of His long-suffering and loving-kindness.'
'You have a strange way of speaking of these matters,' said Ida. 'I am acquainted with a number of excellent Christians, who never refer to the name by which they are called, but at long intervals, in set terms, and in a tone which frightens the ' sinners' to whom they address their exhortations. I have been troubled whether to question their sincerity, or the faith which, they assert, controls them.'
'Doubt neither. Ascribe their silence to diffidence or a fear of giving offence; their unhappy manner, to ignorance of the proper method of managing hearts. It is to be regretted that the one reality upon the globe should be banished from familiar conversation. If a man is sleeping upon the sea-shore, the big waves washing his pillow at each surge, am I censurable if I end his happy slumbers? Or, to employ an illustration which suits me better, I have a dear friend, to whom you are a stranger. With my esteem for you, will not my desire to bring you together grow stronger? When I discover traits in you which he would approve, will not I tell you of him, and use every means to facilitate an acquaintance so pleasant and profitable? Especially, if a time is certainly coming when you will require his assistance, an emergency is to overtake you when all help but his will be vain, does it not become my imperative duty to implore you to accept the friendship he stands ready to bestow?'
'Do not the Scriptures speak of the veil that is upon their hearts?' said Ida.
'Yes—but it is the veil of unbelief. If we do not of ourselves endeavour to tear it away, the light which streams upon us, at its removal, may be too late. God does not need, but He demands our cooperation in His schemes for our salvation. There is our friend, Charley Dana; he is late for a gentleman of his punctual habits.'
The conversation changed. Ida would gladly have heard more of a topic so unusual, and previously so unpleasing, but he dropped it, and she did not oppose him. The manner, more than the matter of his language, took her fancy. He did not arrogate superiority of sense or goodness, and had none of the stereotyped cant she dreaded; he did not preach, but talked easily and quietly; most of the time with the smile she thought so beautiful, and she observed his avoidance of 'you' and ' I,' substituting, when it could be done, ' we ' and 'us,' as if to lay a platform of perfect equality. ..... Mr. Lacy withstood his jailer's offers of liberation. 'If she were inclined to change her place, or to promenade, he was at her service, but no alteration could better his condition;' and Ida's fears of detaining him being dissipated by this straightforward avowal, she abandoned herself to the enjoyment of communion with a noble intellect and finely-attuned spirit. The announcement of supper, the tocsin of liberty to a majority of the company, interrupted their lively dialogue...
The day after! Mr. Read was growly and headachy;—Josephine in her worst humour, and itching to vent it. The breakfast hour was enlivened by a continual peppering of small shot from her, varied by a big gun from her father. He sneered at her arrangements and company, saying much that was cuttingly true, more (really, than he was aware of; and she pecked at him and the servants. In spite of her dislike, Ida pitied her, as she surveyed the heaps of unwashed dishes and glasses, the carpets spotted with wine, cake and jelly trampled into their velvet, and the forlorn disorder that reigned over all. She was on the point of offering her assistance, when Josephine brushed by her, with a peremptory order to 'folks who were cluttering up the room to be off, .... Herself, the cat, and the footman, who was collecting the remains of the feast, comprising the auditory, Ida thought herself justifiable in taking a share of the hint.
......
As to Ida, the close of her evening had more than compensated for the ennui of the beginning; she had no foiled stratagems, no tangled snares to lament....
This scene was sketched by a parson's wife in mid nineteenth century America.
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