It’s hard to believe tomorrow is the first day of October! The seasons are changing and in many people’s opinion, autumn is the loveliest season of the year. (Do you agree?)
In 1892 Isabella published this whimsical little poem that captures the magical quality of autumn, when falling leaves seem to come alive with purposeful movements.
October’s Party
October gave a party— The leaves by hundreds came— The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples, And leaves of every name;
The sunshine spread a carpet, And everything was grand; Miss Weather led the dancing, Professor Wind the band.
The Chestnuts came in yellow, The Oaks in crimson dressed; The lovely Misses Maple In scarlet looked their best.
All balanced to their partners, And gaily fluttered by; The sight was like a rainbow New-fallen from the sky.
Then in the rustic hollows At hide-and-seek they played. The party closed at sundown, And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder, They flew along the ground, And then the party ended In “hands across, all round.”
Catch the falling leaves!
In the last line of the poem, “hands across, all round” was a common phrase that would have been immediately recognizable to Isabella’s readers. It refers to a formation in traditional country dancing and square dancing that was very familiar in 1892.
“Hands across, all round!”
In this dance move, all the dancers form a large circle and join hands, often as the grand finale of a dance.
For those of us who love autumn, this charming poem reminds us the changing seasons have always felt magical, even 130 years ago! Perhaps the next time you watch leaves swirling in the autumn wind, you’ll think of this October poem and it’s gentle reminder that wonder is always there for those who know how to look for it.
When Isabella Alden began writing her beloved “Pansy” books in the 1870s, the literary landscape looked very different than it does today. There were few public libraries like the ones we have now; instead, churches filled that role by establishing their own library systems.
The Sunday-school library was a powerful force in 19th-century America. They didn’t just lend books—they curated collections of books that shaped readers’ moral and spiritual development.
Not all Sunday-school libraries were created equal; some churches seemed to have unlimited resources to maintain a well-stocked library of five-hundred books or more, displayed in neat rows on well-built shelves; while others had only a few titles in their collection.
Isabella’s short story, “Circulating Decimals” is about the efforts of a community to raise money for just such a church library that has fallen into a “disgraceful condition” due to neglect and lack of funds. (You can click here to read the story for free.)
But regardless of size or budget, church libraries had one mission in common: to offer readers books that supported religious instruction, moral development, and the spiritual growth of the congregation.
Churches established committees to evaluate each potential library addition against a set of religious standards. The minister often played a role in recommending or vetoing books, which were also chosen based on their theological soundness and ability to promote standards of Christian living.
The Grace Methodist Episcopal Church of Taunton, Massachusetts had a rather large library of over five-hundred books, and included some of Isabella’s novels, as well as books by Margaret Sangster, E.P. Roe, and other Christian fiction authors.
The church divided their book collection into categories and published a catalog for members of their congregation. The fact that Isabella had ten of her books included in the catalog shows how well the moral messages of her stories aligned with the church’s values and appealed to readers of all ages.
(You can click on the image above to see the entire Grace M.E. Sabbath-school Library catalog of 1904.)
Mainstream publishers like Little, Brown and Company actively marketed their wholesome books to churches. This advertisement in “The Sunday School Library Bulletin” magazine shows their newest offering to churches included a new edition of “Little Men” by Louisa May Alcott:
And organizations like The National Temperance Society also marketed their books directly to churches. Their ad below features a temperance novel by Isabella’s friend Theodosia Foster (who used the pen name of Faye Huntington):
Church libraries established systems for inventorying and lending books. They assigned an inventory number to each book, and issued library cards to readers.
The numbered book plate from a book in the Sunday school library of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Springfield, Illinois.
They also created rules for borrowing:
Church libraries were a lifeline for readers, especially in smaller and frontier communities where there were no free public libraries. But that began to change in 1886 when wealthy steel magnate Andrew Carnegie began funding the building of public libraries across the country. By 1923 he had financed the building of over 1,600 public libraries where borrowers could choose from thousands of book titles, including the most popular books of the day.
The New York City Public Library, opened to the public in 1911.
The “safe” books Isabella wrote went out of print, while modern novels by Ernest Hemingway, Edith Wharton, and F. Scott Fitzgerald filled the shelves at public libraries.
Sunday-school libraries still existed, but their influence waned to such an extent that in 1930 a newspaper in Greensboro, North Carolina published an editorial just after Isabella’s death. The editorial fondly recalled the church libraries of years gone by:
There were no sex novels; no crime novels; no filthy “realism,” which portrays the perversions of human nature as if it were life itself. Romance there was, in glorious gobs. Many of the books seeped sentimentality. And always there were happy endings.
He went on to write that Isabella’s books “made for clean lives and happy homes and good society.” In her stories, “the problems were the problems of everyday people trying to be good. If they were somewhat morbid and over-introspective, so was the era for which they were meant.”
Isabella truly did write for the era in which she lived; but it’s important to remember that her books succeeded in Sunday school libraries not just because they met church requirements, but because Isabella had a particular understanding of literature’s purpose—that stories should help readers have a closer walk with God and become better versions of themselves.
Maybe that’s why her “Pansy” novels, despite going out of print, are still read and loved by new readers today, and remembered fondly by those who discovered them on long-ago Sunday afternoons in church libraries.
Does your church have a library? What are the kinds of books it offers?
When it came to writing stories, Isabella sometimes relied on “real” life for inspiration. She’d take an actual occurrence—an overheard conversation, an event she attended, or something as simple as a family gathering—and use it as the basis for her story.
Other times, a story she wrote was inspired by a lesson she wanted to convey, or a kernel of truth around which she fashioned a story. That was the case in 1887 when she published a little story called “Monuments,” about a young girl who visits a cemetery in New York with her Aunt Joanna.
The entrance to Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York.
The story draws on fact: Green-Wood in Brooklyn, New York is a real place that Isabella very likely visited because of its famed monuments.
Monuments and headstones at Green-Wood Cemetery, about 1900.
In the 1800s Green-Wood Cemetery, with its extraordinary grave markers and lush, rolling hills, was a popular tourist destination. People came to spend the day with their picnic baskets and marvel over the sculpted monuments.
In her story, Isabella mentions one of the most magnificent monuments that marks the grave of Miss Charlotte Canda, a seventeen-year-old bride-to-be who was tragically killed after falling from a run-away carriage.
Charlotte Canda’s tomb, photographed about 1910.
She also mentions a monument dedicated to the brave firefighters of New York City and, in particular, Andrew Schenck, who perished in 1854 while trying to save people and his fellow firefighters from a burning department store.
The Firemen’s Monument mentioned in the story, topped by fireman’s boots and hat.
As a creative storyteller, Isabella took these tales of tragedy and heroism and crafted them into a story about a completely different kind of ‘monument’—one built not of marble and stone, but of transformed lives and acts of service.
Here’s the short story Isabella wrote:
It was my first visit to New York. A few days after my arrival uncle took me to Green-Wood, the most beautiful cemetery I ever saw. We visited the many points of interest. As we stood gazing at the fireman’s monument, uncle told me the story of his heroism; how in one of the fierce fires this brave man lost his life while rescuing a woman from the flames. Then we spent a long time looking at the monument to Miss Canda, the beautiful young heiress who was thrown from a carriage and killed; and her fortune was built up in this wonderful marble.
The next morning aunt said, “You will go with me today to another Green-Wood and see grander monuments than any you saw yesterday.”
I wondered how that could be, but we were soon on our way. At length we turned into narrow, dirty streets, growing worse and worse. I shuddered at such sights and sounds of human beings, never before dreaming that in grand New York there could he so much wretchedness. I drew closer and closer to aunt, fearing one of the human demons that leered at us would seize me and carry me off.
Such people! Such places to live in! Such language! Why, it almost makes my hair stand on end to think of it. Aunt did not seem to mind them. Maybe they knew her, for everyone stood aside for us to pass.
“Here it is,” she said at length. “Here is the other Green-Wood.”
“This?” I answered, looking around for gravestones and monuments, and seeing nothing but dreadful houses and miserable objects. “This is Green-Wood?”
She simply answered, “Yes; come right in and you shall see the monuments.”
I could only follow, wondering all the while if aunt was not losing her mind.
A sweet-faced girl met us with a warm welcome to aunt and an earnest look at me. As she led the way within, aunt whispered:
“One of the monuments, Clara.”
“What? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Her name is Maggie,” she quickly whispered back; “used to be called ‘wild Maggie;’ was one of the worst girls in this region. Never mind now, I will tell you more hereafter. Take a good look at her, you’ll see her again.”
Then I heard singing like the songs of many angels. A door swung open. We entered. It was a great company of children, black and white, some with sweet sad faces; others with evil looks, but all singing. Soon Maggie came in from another door and sat among them and I could hear her voice ring out in joyful strains, leading the rest.
There was prayer and Bible reading, and such a good talk by a gentleman. It seemed like heaven, while many of the children, some partly blind, some lame, some pale and sad-faced, gathered around after meeting was out and seized Aunt Joanna’s hand, and seemed so happy. Another lady was there to whom they all pressed for a smile and a word.
“That lady,” said aunt, “is Sir Christopher Wren.”
“What can you mean?” I asked. “Sir Christopher Wren was a man who died in England more than a hundred years ago.”
Aunt Joanna only laughed and said, “And came to life again, my child. This is he, only greater.”
“What?” said I, more and more bewildered.
But she went on: “Look around here at the monuments. You knew Sir Christopher was the architect of the great Westminster Abbey of London, and that kings and statesmen and poets are buried there, and their names and deeds are written there; but if anyone inquires for Sir Christopher Wren’s monument, he is told to look at the wonderful building of which he was the architect.”
“I see,” said I, “that lady has ‘built up’ Maggie.”
“Exactly,” said Aunt Joanna, “and more than one hundred other miserable, sick and wicked children. See that frail girl over there coming toward her? It would take a book to tell how this lady used to come daily here and bend over her crib, sometimes holding her in her arms for hours fearing each moment would be her last. But come and I will introduce you, and you shall see a monument greater than Christopher Wren.”
After we were on our way home, aunt told me the story of this lady; how one day curiosity led her to go through this worst part of New York. Her heart was so touched at the wretchedness of the people that she resolved to do something for them. Her friends tried to dissuade her. Some said the people would kill her; some said it was no use to try to help them. But she went right forward, and now after years of labor and sorrow there is her monument: saved children.
Before my return home in the country, Aunt Joanna gave a treat to the children of the Home all at her own expense.
Maggie, once “Wild Maggie,” and I served. How many sandwiches I passed around, how many cups of milk Maggie filled, how some of the urchins were dressed, how they laughed, or chattered, or stared, what they all said to aunt Joanna about the “treat,” would fill a book.
You can read more about Green-Wood Cemetery by clicking here.
Click on these links to read the stories behind the monuments for:
Despite her popularity as a best-selling author, Isabella gave very few interviews. She made an exception in 1892 when a magazine called The Ladies Home Journal (which was quickly becoming the most widely-read magazine in the world) came calling.
The interviewer, Denny Johnson, asked Isabella the usual interview questions about her home life, her childhood, and what inspired her to write. But in the process of sharing Isabella’s answers to those very standard questions, Johnson’s article reveals the quiet power of Isabella’s Christian principles.
Reading the article, you get the sense that what made Isabella extraordinary wasn’t just her prolific writing career; it was the way in which her personal character was very much reflected in the stories she published.
The image of Isabella that was published with the 1892 article in The Ladies Home Journal.
So, here are four things The Ladies Home Journal interview revealed about Isabella’s personal character:
1. Isabella Lived Her Message
Johnson wrote that Isabella’s Christian principles weren’t “mere theories, existing only on paper.” Instead, they were “the rules that govern her own daily life.”
In those few words, Johnson revealed what is essentially the foundation of Isabella’s stories. Readers don’t just admire her characters’ moral courage—they can sense it comes from the reality of Isabella’s life.
Isabella believed in what Johnson called “practical “Christianity”—faith that rolled up its sleeves and got to work.
She quietly helped others navigate life’s difficulties, often so unobtrusively that people didn’t realize she was the one who had “smoothed this bit of path, or pushed aside that jagged stone.” To Isabella, that was genuine Christian service.
2. Isabella had Humility in Success
By 1892 Isabella had already authored over one hundred books that were beloved by readers around the world, yet the article describes her “as unspoiled as when she signed her name for the first time ‘Pansy.'” She shrank from publicity and seemed genuinely surprised by the impact of her work.
Her modesty wasn’t false humility; it reflected Isabella’s belief that her talents were gifts meant for service rather than self-promotion. As Johnson wrote, “self-emolument has no part in her work,” but instead she had “consecrated intellect, as well as heart and life, to the service of Christ.” In other words, she didn’t write stories for personal gain.
3. Isabella was Consistent
What gave Isabella her unique influence over young people wasn’t just her writing skill, but her consistent character. The same “high standard of right and wrong,” the same genuine care for others, the same joy in her faith that readers found in her books—all of this could be witnessed in her daily life.
The article said she had an infectious laugh and youthful spirit that weren’t manufactured for her audience.
She would pause her important work to meet with any child who came to visit, demonstrating that her love for young people was authentic, not merely professional.
4. Isabella’s Example is Timeless
In our present world of personal brands and influence marketing, Isabella’s story feels refreshingly honest. Her success didn’t come from clever marketing; it came from being the same person in private that she was in public. She wrote from who she actually was, not who she thought her audience wanted her to be.
Maybe that’s a big part of why her books are still being read today, long after other, flashier authors have been forgotten. There’s still something powerful about the simple consistency of Isabella’s authentic faith and the honest life she lived that still shine through when we read her stories.
Our September free read is a short story Isabella wrote in 1910.
Mrs. Luther Smith-Mosher believes more in hard work than miracles, so when her beloved church faces foreclosure, she’s willing to do just about anything to save it. But as the foreclosure date draws near, Mrs. Mosher finds herself caught between feuding factions and impossible financial realities—until Pastor Powers challenges her to trust God completely, even when human solutions have failed.
YOU CAN READ “LINKS IN AN ENDLESS CHAIN” FOR FREE!
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![A square label affixed to the inside cover of a book. On the first line of the word "NO" with room to write a number; the number 61 was written and crossed out, and the number 77 written beside it. Below are printed "SUNDAY SCHOOL LIBRARY of the Evengelical [sic] Lutheran Church, Springfield, Ill." The text is surrounded by a fancy Victorian-era design of swirls and dots.](https://isabellaalden.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/09/evangelical-lutheran-church-book-plate.jpg)
Isabella Alden 