Part 1 — MY RECOLLECTIONS OF Rebecca Steward, BY PROFESSOR B. F. LEE,

President of Wilberforce University.

Among the persons earliest and dearest in my recollections is she, whose name stands at the head of this article.

In my childhood, I associated her with my highest ideas of perfection; in my youth, I looked upon her as one especially interested in my well-being and well-doing; in my manhood I knew her to be a devoted Christian, who was always anxious for all men to know Christ and to keep His commandments, and I never thought otherwise than that she was praying for my success. This has often stimulated me to perseverence and hope in good works, while it has kept me from many snares.

My aunt had an aptness in dealing with and managing children, which made them feel easy in her presence; rendered her instructions impressive, her society agreeable, her manners attractive, and her authority respectable to them.

She possessed a form, general appearance and features, which would have given grace and honor to any position ever filled by woman; while she possessed a native intellect, which had reached that state of culture in which human life appears to best advantage, and which, had she sought it, would have admitted her to the higher circles of life.

Her ideas of life and things were clear, reasonable and definite; while her appreciation of the worth and object of life was highly philosophic and Christian. She always breathed the purest atmosphere her circumstances and state admitted. It seemed to me that no one could soar higher upon the strength of similar conditions than she. It is one of the finest points in the philosophy of life, to know where to place the lever in order to gain the greatest advantage of the weight, this she seemed to me to nearly always know, and, consequently to carry the burdens of life with comparative ease.

When I was left at ten years of age an orphan, she gave me many items of advice and encouragement, which were as precious ointment to my soul; when I lay on what I supposed was a death bed, she knew how to talk with me and how to pray for me, so as to impress me with her sympathy for me and true faith in God. I can never forget those days of my fearful looking for the messenger, death, when I was without hope and God in the world. My dear aunt would say to me, when the physician thought I would hardly recover: "Frank, I think you will get well. I believe God has a great work for you. I can see it. He will raise you up if you will only trust Him." Then she would bring duty right to my heart, urge me to trust, faith, and repentance towards God. How well I remember her asking, with the tears streaming down her cheeks: "Now, Frank, can't you see Jesus in this?" the blessed word which she had been reading. "Can't you look right to him and live?" Then, after it pleased God to allow me to get well, she never forgot me, but always urged me to give myself up to Christ, pointing out to me the narrow escape which I had made, praying and agonizing with me; so that to-day, whatever I am for humanity and God, I owe largely to that sainted woman, as God's instrument.

At the head of the domestic circle, with my uncle, she appeared to have a clear and high notion of home economy. Her house was a house of order, pleasure, books, the Bible, religion, and prayer. Every member of her family was taught that noble and divine idea of liberty in love. The erring were made to feel the weight of guilt keenly, and the force of love deeply. The well disposed were not flattered to ruin, but urged to grace. She reared her children for heaven and God. If any of them should fail to enjoy the end of her life in their behalf, she will still have her reward.

In a letter to me, immediately subsequent to the marriage of her youngest child, she said: "I have raised a family of six children. I had long set up in my house an altar to God to which we all came, but now, thank God, we have seven altars set up to Him." How great must have been the satisfaction of seeing every one of her children not only settled in life, but given to God. "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it," is well verified in this case.

There was an air of grace and light in her house, which no one could fail to observe, after a very short residence in her family. Discussion of general topics was free and intelligent. Happy expressions showed that their source was happy hearts.

The books on her shelves, though not so numerous as in many houses, yet were of the best and from the finest authors. I infer, though I never heard her say so, that Burns was one of her favorites among the poets.

In social life my aunt had few superiors. She took a broad view of the state and wants of her community, and was, therefore, one of its leading and most useful members. Her opinions, with regard to matters of general interest, were highly respected, and her advice often sought.

While she was earnestly and plainly Christian in all her thoughts and actions, yet she was not of a sad temperament. This made her able to direct the thoughts of others in the proper way.

In the church she was for the last twenty-five years of her life an abiding and faithful Christian. I have never met with any one who had clearer views of the life and work of faith. Some of the most comfortable, consoling, and impressive conversations I have ever had with Christians, ministers not excepted, have been with her. Her experience was rich, because she had cherished it as from God. The latter part of her life was attended with great suffering, yet she would not complain, but was made perfect through suffering and allowing patience to have its perfect work. She had learned how to endure hardness as a good soldier of Jesus Christ.

I have made it a rule for ten or twelve years to write to my aunt as soon as I returned home from watch-meetings. In this correspondence she has given me much advice and encouragement in the walks of Christianity; telling me of her own experience in suffering and trusting, in the true spirit of Christian heroism, always expressing herself as only awaiting the Lord's call. These letters have been to me as angel's whispers, as heavenly messengers, telling me how to live, how to wait and trust, and I might add, showing me how to die unto the world daily.

With reference to the doctrine of holiness of heart, in my opinion, she was perfectly clear, practical, and scriptural. By practical, I mean in experience and in practice. Her utter rejection of human perfection, but full faith in Christian perfection, I think in perfect keeping with the teachings of the holy Scriptures. She knew the truth, and the truth made her free.

I have never heard one word of her latest testimony to the saving power of the blood of Jesus, but, without hearing this, I venture the assertion that she died rich in faith and abundantly sustained by grace. O how sweetly, years before she died, have I heard her repeat the consoling words: "I know that my Redeemer liveth!" (O, these blessed words! more than all the words addressed to the human hearts by all religions outside of ours), and "I am striving to make my calling and elections sure," "I am pressing towards the mark," etc. These added to what I know of her life, are enough to assure me of her safe passage over the dark stream.

In the loss of her, Gouldtown has lost one of its stays and guides; the world, an eminent woman, one of its greatest, because one of its best, and the church one of its most valiant soldiers.

As for myself, I feel to weep with her children in the loss of a spiritual mother, as well as a beloved and highly respected aunt. Let her memory be dear to us, and her exemplary life be to us one of those lights which illuminate the path of the just, "shining more and more, until the perfect day."

With my grandmother, my aunt Tamson, my own dear father, and the millions of sainted dead, let her body rest and her soul enjoy the eternal bliss of the promises and the God of the promises.