There is no need to elaborate the ideas of the breadth, or magnanimity of the Church; for, in this day of vigorous thought and reconstruction of older doctrines, both of these characteristics would seem to commend themselves, on their simple announcement: for who is it that longs for the narrowness of a “Westminster Confession” or even the mild bondage of “The Thirty-Nine Articles”? And who is it that has sufficient effrontery to un-church the millions who are trying in their own ways to serve their Lord? That there is such narrowness in the Episcopal Church no one can deny; it is in opposition to this that it must present itself to the world, as a comprehensive and tolerant Church. Lucy Larcom, a Puritan, seized upon the vital truths of the Episcopal Church. If these are kept before the people, this Church, as a part of the kingdom of Christ, may hope to have a large influence in the development of American Christianity. CHAPTER XII. LAST YEARS. Miss Larcom was loved in Beverly. The townspeople were justly proud of her, and they always welcomed her sweet face into their homes. She was interested in the Town Improvement Society, and once, at one of its entertainments, she read two or three of her poems. When there was an effort made to secure Prospect Hill for a public park, she sent some appropriate lines to the local paper, hoping to influence opinion. Her public spirit, as shown in her letters and diaries, was also active in her life, and she joined, according to her opportunities, in such affairs as could receive aid from her pen, and the townspeople were gratified by her contributions to the village life. The success in literature of a Beverly boy made her happy. When Mr. George E. Woodberry entered the company of American poets by the publishing of the “North Shore Watch,” a volume containing the triumphant ode, “My Country,” not unworthy of comparison with Lowell’s “Commemoration Ode,” and the strong sonnets, “At Gibraltar,” and the classic “Agathon,” she was one of the first to send him her appreciation. TO GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY. 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, BOSTON, February 18, 1889. DEAR MR. WOODBERRY,--I have just been reading your poems, and have been so much moved by them that I wanted at once to tell you how deeply they appeal to me. Most of our modern verse,--and I include my own,--is too superficially lyrical, the measure often muffles the meaning,--the thought flies off through the sound. In yours, the music and the meaning unfold together, always hinting the deeper chords half awakened beneath. The feeling of the unexpressed and the inexpressible infinite--that which is at the source of everything real--that which is life itself, is in your poetry, as in almost no other modern poetry that I have read.