In the early 1910s, Americans were experiencing a world in turmoil. With major events like the start of World War I and the sinking of the Titanic, many people found themselves looking for reassurance, order, and a sense of control over their futures. One surprising place they turned to—The stars.
During this time, a massive craze for astrology, palmistry, and fortune-telling swept the country. Newspapers filled their classified pages with advertisements from self-proclaimed astrologers, clairvoyants, and palm readers promising to map out business prospects, cure health troubles, and—most popular of all—arrange perfect marriages.
from the Telegram and Gazette (Worcester, Massachusetts) September 6, 1914.
Raymond Macdonald Alden—Isabella’s son—recognized the growing trend. Raymond was an acclaimed scholar and author in his own right. He held a doctorate, served as chair of the English department at Stanford University, and was a noted expert on Shakespeare and classic literature who frequently delivered popular lectures.
from the Richmond Times Dispatch, May 1, 1919.
Raymond was also an award-winning short story writer. He watched the growing obsession with astrology and palmistry with a sharp, humorous eye. In 1914, he confronted the trend the best way he knew how: through a light-hearted romantic story that poked fun at the craze. His story playfully shows how common sense, honesty, and real human connections make a far more reliable foundation for love than any horoscope ever could.
When a skeptical young man stumbles into a Los Angeles “Bureau of Destiny” to cure his heartache, he has little hope for a happy future. But as the bureau’s clever secretary takes his romantic fate into her own hands, he soon learns that destiny works in mysterious and delightfully unexpected ways.
As a minister’s wife for over four decades, Isabella Alden knew firsthand what D.L. Moody describes in this month’s Bible class: how quickly a congregation’s criticism can wear down a pastor’s spirit, and how “the Holy Spirit will not work in an atmosphere of criticism.”
In Lesson 11, Mr. Moody introduces us to both the Person and work of the Holy Spirit — His conviction of sin, His gift of hope, His call to love the unlovely, and His power to bring true liberty to a captive soul.
This is a lesson for anyone who wants to better understand the Holy Spirit’s work in daily life.
Today Marcia Macdonald Livingston is widely known as the mother of beloved Christian novelist Grace Livingston Hill and the older sister of Isabella “Pansy” Alden; but Marcia was actually a talented, well-published author in her own right. She wrote uplifting stories for readers of all ages, and this month’s free read is a wonderful example. Although “A Happy Summer” was written with children in mind, Marcia’s warm, engaging writing style makes this a meaningful and entertaining read for adults, too.
For sisters Jessie and May, life in a hot, cramped city attic makes the country feel like a distant dream. With their widowed mother working day and night to keep a roof over their heads, a summer filled with green fields and fresh air seems impossible. But when an unexpected act of kindness opens the door to a new life in the quiet village of Woodbury, the Wilson family discovers the joy of answered prayers and the simple beauty of nature.
Originally published in an 1883 issue of The Pansy magazine, this special edition of “A Happy Summer” includes the original artwork published with the story, so you can read it in the same way Victorian children first enjoyed it!
Dwight L. Moody was unlike any preacher of his era. Other celebrated evangelists of the nineteenth century (including his contemporary Charles Spurgeon) preached with scholarly precision and theological authority.
Mr. Moody took a different approach. He talked to his audiences the way a trusted friend might talk across a kitchen table — warmly, personally, and without pretense. It was a style he probably carried with him from his early days as a shoe salesman in Boston, where he learned that persuasion begins with a human connection, not an argument.
His simple, conversational style is evident throughout Lesson Ten of Mr. Moody’s Bible Class.
He doesn’t begin the lesson with a Scripture text or a theological declaration. Instead, he opens with a lovely description of the view from his study window at his home in Northfield, Massachusetts. He describes the Connecticut Valley stretching out before him and his view of the distant Vermont hills after an early mist has burned away. It’s a short and ordinary paragraph, and that is precisely his point. From that gentle opening he moves into one of the most profound doctrines of the Christian faith: the resurrection of the dead.
Mr. Moody’s home in Northfield, Massachusetts in 1904.
Half way through the lesson, Mr. Moody shares more about his personal life and admits that when he was a child he was terrified of death. He describes how he would pause whatever he was doing and anxiously count the strokes of the church funeral bell (one toll for each year of the deceased’s life) and feel a cold dread whenever the count was low. It’s a tender and relatable confession of fear from a man who regularly preached to millions of people.
That is what makes this lesson so powerful and so relevant for readers today. Mr. Moody doesn’t lecture us about the Resurrection from a safe theological distance. Instead, he tells us what it cost him personally to believe it — and what it gave him in return.
Our July free read is a short story by an author who may be new to you. Margaret Marshall Saunders was a Canadian writer of children’s stories and a passionate advocate for animal welfare. She was thirty-two years old and just starting her writing career in earnest when her novel Beautiful Joe was published in 1893 under her pen name “Marshall Saunders.” The book quickly became a worldwide bestseller and made history as the first book by a Canadian author to sell over a million copies.
Margaret Saunders was a talented writer, and when she submitted her short story “It Might Have Been” to Isabella Alden for publication in The Pansy magazine, the story must have touched Isabella’s heart.
Margaret Marshall Saunders with her dog, Billie Sunday.
Like the character of Ella Crouse in the story, Isabella had a temper! Throughout her life Isabella candidly shared times when her quick flare-ups and uncontrolled anger often got the best of her, leading to situations she later regretted. It’s easy to see how she identified with Margaret Saunders’ beautifully written story. She undoubtedly knew that this tale of regret and sisterly love would resonate deeply with her readers.
Published in the June 1895 issue of The Pansy, “It Might Have Been” by Margaret Marshall Saunders is a lovely short story that reminds us that building character is a slow process—earned through daily patience, forgiveness, and love.
Ella and her sister, Jessie, are opposites in every way. While Jessie is calm and fragile, Ella possesses a fierce, volatile temper that she struggles to master. One chaotic morning, a minor misunderstanding over a pair of gloves escalates into a passionate argument that Ella regrets. But when an unexpected crisis strikes the family later that day, Ella is forced to confront the terrifying reality of what might have been if she never got the chance to say “I’m sorry.”
Dwight L. Moody was one of the most beloved evangelists of the nineteenth century, who preached to millions on both sides of the Atlantic. For Isabella Alden, Mr. Moody was more than a famous name; he was part of her world.
Dwight Lyman Moody (portrait by Edward Clifford)
The connection ran deep in her family. Isabella’s uncle, Horatio Spafford, was a close personal friend of Mr. Moody’s, a supporter of his evangelistic campaigns, and a fellow laborer in Chicago’s Christian community. It was a personal letter from Moody (then preaching in Europe) that invited Horatio and his family to join him in England in 1873, a voyage that ended in tragedy and gave the world the hymn “It Is Well With My Soul.” Mr. Moody himself traveled to be with the grieving Spaffords in the aftermath of that loss. (You can read more about that here.)
Closer to home, Mr. Moody was a contributor to Isabella’s own work. In 1897 — the same year he was writing these monthly Bible lessons for a popular women’s magazine — he contributed a piece on prayer meetings to a Christian magazine Isabella edited, a collaboration that speaks to the mutual respect and shared mission between them.
What makes lesson nine of Mr. Moody’s Bible Class so interesting is that its central message was one Isabella had been sharing for decades in her stories and novels. Mr. Moody teaches that love is not a feeling reserved for the lovable — it is the very essence of God, extended unconditionally to the unworthy, and expressed in small acts of grace that leave impressions that last a lifetime.
If you have read any of Isabella’s novels, you’ll recognize that theme immediately. Her stories are populated with difficult people — the prickly neighbor, the harried, impatient mother, the unlovable child, the proud and self-righteous churchgoer — and her heroes and heroines choose to love them anyway, to speak a kind word, and to see the person beneath the surface. Isabella was writing fiction; Mr. Moody was preaching theology; but they were both saying the same thing.
In his ninth Bible class, Mr. Moody explains how God’s love differs from man’s love, and he shares the ultimate way in which we can show our love for God in return.
This month’s free read is a short story Isabella wrote for an 1876 issue of The Pansy magazine about Janie Smith, a miller’s daughter who can’t help comparing her own plain life with another girl’s seemingly charmed one.
Janie Smith has never ridden the stage coach, never seen the city, and never owned anything half so fine as the traveling costume Miss Josephine Jennings wears. Watching the elegant young heiress board the train one morning, Janie can’t help but feel the world has been very unfair. But the express-man’s quiet words — “Poor little thing!” — are about to change everything Janie thinks she knows about fairness and God’s blessings.
What does it really mean for Christians to hope? D.L. Moody — Isabella’s friend and one of the most beloved evangelists of the nineteenth century — taught that biblical hope isn’t just optimism and positive thinking. It is the soul’s confident anchor in the promises of God.
Mr. D.L. Moody in 1897.
In his eighth Bible class, Mr. Moody explores the difference between false hope and the Christian’s true hope—and why the difference matters today more than ever.
In honor of Mother’s Day this month’s free read is a story about the debt of love we owe to those who raised us.
After a life of sacrifice, widowed Mrs. Kensett finds her twilight years spent shuffling between the homes of her adult children, where she’s treated more like a burden than a beloved guest. She expects more of the same when she arrives at the doorstep of her youngest son and his new bride—only to find an unexpected sanctuary at long last.
While April 15 marked the celebration of National Library Outreach Day, many long-time book lovers still remember it by its original name: National Bookmobile Day. No matter the name, it’s a day to celebrate traveling libraries and the dedicated people and organizations that deliver great books to people who can’t get to bookstores or libraries on their own.
Bookmobiles were the brain child of Mary Titcomb, a visionary Maryland librarian who devised a plan to reach readers who lived in rural areas so remote, they were unable to visit a library. In 1905 Mary loaded as many books as she could into a horse-drawn wagon, and set off to deliver books to isolated areas of the county.
Maryland librarian, Mary Titcomb.
Drawn by two horses, the first book wagon was designed by Mary herself. It had shelves on each side with doors that opened outward for easy browsing, while the interior was packed with additional cases of books to replenish the stock on long journeys.
At first she laid out 16 routes that covered 500 square miles of territory. Sometimes the wagon was out one day, more often two or three. To drive to the most distant outpost of the routes took four days round-trip.
A bookmobile at a rural Minnesota farm about 1920 (courtesy of Minnesota Digital Library)
Her program was an immediate success and its fame quickly grew. In 1912 Mary replaced the horse-drawn wagon with an automobile, which allowed her to not only complete the routes more quickly, but add additional routes as well. Soon she began setting up book “stations” in some areas, where residents could borrow books and return them after reading. Then, on a set schedule, a book wagon would deliver a fresh inventory books to replace those already read—a routine that was the precursor of our current system of library branches.
While on her routes Mary visited farms, remote cabins, and homes of invalids. In some cases, she found that only the children in a home knew how to read, so she helped families select books written at a level so the children could read to their parents. In other districts, men who knew how to read outnumbered the women and children. For these and each area she visited, she made notes and returned with books that suited the residents.
A bookmobile at a rural school in 1920.
In different newspaper accounts, Mary reported that the most requested books were practical and educational on topics like truck gardening, fruit raising, poultry culture, and domestic science.
Books on religion were also popular, “with a preference for those of a devotional nature.”
About 75 percent of fiction she delivered was juvenile, which she said meant “the books are read by both parents and children.” Susan Warner’s novel The Wide, Wide World was a favorite, as were other religious fiction titles. And since Isabella Alden’s novels were staples in public library systems across the country at that time, there’s a strong possibility the library outreach movement brought Isabella’s novels along on those bookmobile deliveries.
A bookmobile serving soldiers stationed in Kentucky, 1917.
It’s not hard to imagine that rural readers would have identified with the characters in Isabella’s books, like Esther in Ester Ried’s Namesake. Imagine being a young girl living on an isolated farm, opening a book to find Esther Ried Randall—a character whose life mirrored her own. Like the reader, Esther lived far from the bustle of the city, yet she harbored a dream of going off to college as an independent young woman. How much that book would have inspired that young girl to follow her educational and spiritual ambitions!
Or imagine a young boy with a penchant for getting into trouble and how much he would have identified with the main character in Isabella’s novel, Tony Keating’s Surprises.
In many ways, Isabella’s books (and others like them) were the only window some readers had on a larger world of instruction, culture, and good taste. Isabella’s skill for using stories to explain God’s love and plan for salvation ensured that traveling libraries delivered more than just entertainment—they delivered spiritual nourishment, as well.
A busy bookmobile in 1927.
Isabella’s books and Mary Titcomb’s outreach program were a perfect pairing. Both women were dedicated to making sure that God-given talents and wholesome reading were not restricted by geography or social standing.
For the girl dreaming of college or the boy seeking a better path, Mary Titcomb’s book wagon was more than just a vehicle; it was a lifeline that brought the world—and The Word—directly to their gate.
Reviews and giveaways for Christian fiction and sweet, clean fiction. Bringing readers information on great stories and connecting authors with their readers.
Isabella Alden 