discretion, and her personal and mental graces. Edward was her
first-born, and from his infancy to the last year of his life she
lavished upon him her love and her prayers. The relation between them
was very beautiful. His letters to her are models of filial devotion,
and her letters to him are full of tenderness, good sense, and pious
wisdom. He inherited some of her most striking traits, and through him
they passed on to his youngest daughter, who often said that she owed
her passion for the use of the pen and her fondness for rhyming to her
grandmother Grata. [3]

Edward Payson was in all respects a highly-gifted man. His genius was as
marked as his piety. There is a charm about his name and the story of
his life, that is not likely soon to pass away. He belonged to a class
of men who seem to be chosen of Heaven to illustrate the sublime
possibilities of Christian attainment--men of seraphic fervor of
devotion, and whose one overmastering passion is to win souls for Christ
and to become wholly like Him themselves. Into this goodly fellowship
he was early initiated. There is something startling in the depth and
intensity of his religious emotions, as recorded in his journal and
letters. Nor is it to be denied that they are often marred by a very
morbid element. Like David Brainerd, the missionary saint of New
England, to whom in certain features of his character he bore no little
resemblance, Edward Payson was of a melancholy temperament and subject,
therefore, to sudden and sharp alternations of feeling. While he had
great capacity for enjoyment, his capacity for suffering was equally
great. Nor were these native traits suppressed, or always overruled, by
his religious faith; on the contrary, they affected and modified his
whole Christian life. In its earlier stages, he was apt to lay too much
stress by far upon fugitive "frames," and to mistake mere weariness,
torpor, and even diseased action of body or mind, for coldness toward