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‘ [418] peace sat brooding.’ In that simple and beautiful record of a holy life, the Journal of John Woolman, there is a passage of which I have been more than once reminded in my intercourse with my fellow-beings: ‘Some glances of real beauty may be seen in their faces who dwell in true meekness. There is a harmony in the sound of that voice to which divine love gives utterance.’ Quite the ugliest face I ever saw was that of a woman whom the world calls beautiful. Through its ‘silver veil’ the evil and ungentle passions looked out hideous and hateful. On the other hand, there are faces which the multitude at the first glance pronounce homely, unattractive, and such as ‘Nature fashions by the gross,’ which I always recognize with a warm heart-thrill; not for the world would I have one feature changed; they please me as they are; they are hallowed by kind memories; they are beautiful through their associations; nor are they any the less welcome that with my admiration of them ‘the stranger intermeddleth not.’
Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin and company, 1888-89.
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