Summary

Portrait of Mary H. Eastman Mary H. Eastman Aunt Phillis's Cabin; Or, Southern Life As It Is

I haven't no learning. I am only a poor, ignorant woman. I can't thank you, master, as I ought. My heart is nigh to bursting. What have I done that the Lord is so good to me. He has put it into your heart to make me so happy; Thank you, master, and God for ever bless you."
The tears streamed down her cheeks, as Mr. Weston arose to go. Esther had come to see if her mother wanted any thing.
"Master," said Phillis, "wait one moment—there's nothing between me and Heaven now. Oh! sir, I shall soon be redeemed from all sin and sorrow. I think I see the glory that shines about the heavenly gates.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Mary H. Eastman Mary H. Eastman Aunt Phillis's Cabin; Or, Southern Life As It Is

But, mother! it will not do; the curse of God is still abroad in the world, the curse on sin. It falls, like a blighting dew, on the loveliest and dearest to our hearts. It is by our side and in our path. It is among the gay, the rich, the proud, and the gifted of the earth; among the poor, the despised, the desolate and forsaken. It darkens the way of the monarch and the cottager, of the maiden and the mother, of the master and the slave. Alas! since it poisoned the flowers in Eden, and turned the children of God from its fair walks, it is abroad in the world—the curse of God on sin.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Mary H. Eastman Mary H. Eastman Aunt Phillis's Cabin; Or, Southern Life As It Is

On the day that Ellen was to be buried, I went to the room where she lay prepared for her last long sleep. Death had laid a light touch on her fair face. The sweet white brow round which her hair waved as it had in life—the slightly parted lips—the expression of repose, not only in the countenance, but in the attitude in which her old nurse had laid her, seemed to indicate an awakening to the duties of life. But there was the coffin and the shroud, and there sat Lucy, her eyes heavy with weeping, and her frame feeble from long fasting, and indulgence of bitter, hopeless grief.
Source: Gutenberg

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