Tag: Pansy Books

The Livingstons’ New York Legacy, Part 2

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In a previous post we shared the charming 1898 book of quotes compiled by the ladies of the First Presbyterian Church of Gilbertsville, New York, and how they reached out to current and previous residents for contributions, including Charles and Marcia Livingston.

For his favorite quote, Charles chose a few lines from an 18th-century hymn by Moravian Bishop John Gambold:

"And when I am to die, 'Receive me'—I'll cry, 
For Jesus has loved me, I cannot tell why; 
But this I do find, we two are so joined, 
He'll not be in glory and leave me behind."

To those who knew Charles, these words were more than just a comforting stanza. They knew that Charles probably selected those lines because he was a man—a minister—whose physical body was continuously failing him; yet he found true comfort in the fact that his identity was anchored in Christ, not in his ability to hold a pulpit.

Charles suffered from a chronic, severe throat ailment (possibly chronic laryngitis or a tubercular throat condition) that progressively stole his physical ability to project his voice to a congregation. For a dedicated Presbyterian minister whose entire life and career were built around the spoken word, it was a devastating ailment. His time in the Gilbertsville pulpit was cut short after just two years because the harsh New York winters and the strain of preaching became physically impossible for him.

Because of his health, Charles, Marcia and their young daughter Grace found themselves constantly moving from one city to another. It must have seemed to them that as soon as they had hung curtains in a new manse and developed deep bonds with a congregation (as they did in Gilbertsville), Charles’ voice would begin to fail, and the trunks would have to be brought down from the attic once more.

The Presbyterian Ministerial Directory, 1898, hints at how frequently the family had to move.

From Gilbertsville, the family moved through a succession of churches in multiple states, searching for an environment where Charles could breathe and preach safely. Each move had to have taken a physical and emotional toll on the family, as well as a financial one. In the 19th century church, if a pastor couldn’t speak, he couldn’t maintain a pulpit—and without a pulpit, there was no manse in which to live or steady stipend to support a family. During those stressful times, the Livingstons frequently leaned on a familiar and welcoming safety net: the literary world of Isabella Alden.

An 1886 issue of The Pansy magazine

Marcia’s sister Isabella had built a massive Christian publishing empire, centered around her children’s magazine, The Pansy. Her young subscribers and their parents begged Isabella to change the monthly magazine to a weekly publication. With the help of Charles and Marcia, Isabella was able to do just that.

Marcia became a mainstay of The Pansy magazine. She wrote short stories and penned a regular monthly column called “Baby’s Corner” for the publication’s youngest readers. And Charles found a new way to preach through his pen. Writing under the initials “C.M.L.” or the persona “Uncle Charles,” he contributed Bible studies and brief articles that covered a variety of contemporary topics.

The collaboration between the Aldens and the Livingstons went beyond The Pansy. They frequently teamed up to write full-length novels that helped supplement the family income. They frequently combined households and turned their shared living spaces into a family writing workshop. Together, they not only kept the Livingstons’ bills paid during Charles’ enforced periods of vocal rest, they provided a front-row literary education for young Grace Livingston, who contributed her own very first stories to the family magazine during those years.

Isabella Alden (left) and her sister, Marcia Livingston, in an undated photo.

By 1885 it became clear that traditional medical treatments and forced periods of rest were no longer enough to save Charles’ voice. The only recommended cure they had not yet tried was the southern “climate cure,” which involved relocating to a southern state with year-round warm temperatures. In February of that year Isabella and her husband visited Florida and helped establish a new Chautauqua assembly. By September the Livingstons joined the Aldens in Florida and together they settled in Winter Park, not far from Orlando. There, the Aldens built a large home they dubbed The Pansy Cottage, with plenty of room for the Livingstons and any other relatives who cared to join them.

A side view of The Pansy Cottage in Winter Park, Florida.

The move was a turning point for the Livingstons. The gentler climate successfully soothed Charles’ throat, which allowed him to renew his ministry in new ways. While in Florida he spent years engaged in home missionary work, planting new congregations and even taking on a pastoral role at the Winter Park Presbyterian Church from 1891 to 1892.

Perhaps even more importantly, the new environment and shared living quarters provided rich inspiration for the family’s pens. The area’s unique flora, fauna, and pioneering spirit filled the pages of The Pansy magazine and inspired some of their full-length novels. Most importantly for the Livingstons, their new Florida home offered a place where Charles could use his voice again.

So, when the ladies of the First Presbyterian Church of Gilbertsville reached out to the Livingstons in 1898, they wrote to a couple whose lives had been completely reshaped by faith, creativity, and resilience in the face of difficult physical trials. Though decades had passed and miles separated them, Charles and Marcia gladly sent their favorite verses back to the little church that had once welcomed them as young parents.

Knowing the physical limitations and hardships Charles endured throughout his career, his choice for a quote carries an even deeper meaning:

“But this I do find, we two are so joined, 
He'll not be in glory and leave me behind."

And for Marcia, who stood by his side through every packed trunk, every illness, and every shared writing desk, her choice of Robert Browning’s cheerful poem makes perfect sense:

“God’s in his Heaven—All’s right with the world.”

You can read more about the Aldens and the Livingstons in Florida in these previous posts:

Isabella, a Winter Snowbird
Welcome to Pansy’s House
Too Much of a Good Thing, and a New Free Read!

The Livingstons’ Legacy in Small-town New York

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Isabella and her sister Marcia both married ministers of the Presbyterian church, whose profession called them to different churches across the northeastern United States. In 1868 Marcia’s husband Charles was called to a small church in the idyllic village of Gilbertsville, New York.

An undated postcard from Gilbertsville, New York.

Gilbertsville is nestled inside the town of Butternuts amid farmlands and gently rolling hills carved out by nearby Butternut Creek. When Charles, Marcia, and their three-year-old daughter Grace arrived in Gilbertsville, the congregation had just completed construction on their new church building. Charles was one of the very first pastors to preach in the grand new sanctuary.

Charles Livingston in undated photo.

With a fresh building and a youthful pastor, the energy of the congregation was electric. The women of the church were highly educated and socially active; in fact, it was largely due to the efforts of the church’s “Ladies’ Aid” leadership that the funds were raised to build the new church. In many ways, they mirrored the types of organized, reform-minded and intellectually curious women that Isabella and Marcia so frequently wrote about in their novels.

On the left, the new Presbyterian Church as it appeared in 1909.

Those exact same women were older matrons when they gathered in 1898 to tackle another fund-raising project. This time, they turned to a popular and very successful method in the late-Victorian era: publishing a community fundraising book. It worked like this:

Small towns at the turn of the century had local newspaper or regional printing houses that routinely printed booklets, local histories, and community directories for a flat fee. Before a single page of the book was printed, the ladies of the church went door-to-door throughout the area obtaining donations, cash advances and orders from neighbors, local businesses, and families. Similar to our modern crowd-sourcing, it was a clever way to ensure the project was fully funded upfront.

While many church groups published community cookbooks filled with local recipes, a literary collection of curated moral, poetic and philosophical quotes was considered a more “refined” and “intellectual” endeavor—and that’s what the ladies decided to publish.

They solicited favorite quotes from town leaders and prominent citizens—including the Gilbert family, whose ancestors literally founded and named the village; the Fitch family, owners of the local mills and enthusiastic supporters of local civic projects; and the Rockwoods, major agricultural exporters who drove the local economy.

The women also reached out to former residents, including the Livingstons. By the time the book was published in 1898, the Livingstons had moved on to other pulpits, but they were still well remembered and beloved. They were also firmly connected to the Christian literary world of that time—Marcia was a published author in her own right, and her sister, Isabella, was the most successful and prolific Christian fiction author of the Victorian era.

Marcia Livingston in undated photo.

Obtaining favorite quotes from the Livingstons added prestige and a bit of “star power” to their small-town book.

Titled Thoughts of the Wise, the book was published in 1898 and became a treasured collection of wisdom, as well as a handy social directory. At a price of twenty-five cents a copy, many residents purchased multiple copies to send to far-away friends and relatives, adding more to the community’s fund-raising coffers.

Would you like to see the favorite quotes Marcia and Charles Livingston contributed to Thoughts of the Wise? Click here to view a PDF version of the book. You’ll find Charles’ quote on page 9 and Marcia’s on page 26.

JOIN US FOR PART TWO!

Curious about why the quotes Charles and Marcia chose were especially meaningful in their lives? Join us on November 10 when we’ll explore the special meaning behind their selections, examine the reality of Charles’ failing health, and look at the extraordinary steps the family took to cope with his illness.

A Tale of Two Boarding Houses

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Not all boarding houses were created equal.

In the late 1800s, a boarder’s standard of living—from the cleanliness of their sheets to the quality of their morning coffee—was dictated almost entirely by two factors: location and cost.

In a successful, well-managed boarding house, life could be surprisingly comfortable. Articles in ladies’ magazines from the 1890s and early 1900s show that establishments that charged fair, competitive rates prided themselves on the little details.

A proper Victorian table set for a meal, circa 1886.

A boarder in a reputable house could generally expect:

  • Clean, whole bedding and fresh pitchers of water replenished daily in their room.
  • Well-maintained common areas, such as a tidy parlor for receiving guests and a clean, functioning bathroom down the hall.
  • Hearty, predictable meals that often featured choices of fresh meat (like steak or mutton chops) alongside hot bread, griddle cakes, potatoes, and coffee for breakfast.

These houses were typically situated in respectable, quiet residential neighborhoods, a bit removed from the soot and noise of the commercial districts. For a young clerk or a professional starting out in a new city, a good boarding house provided respectability, a family atmosphere, and a comfortable place to rest.

Baking day in a spacious, well-organized kitchen, circa 1886.

On the flip side, lower-end establishments operated under severe financial constraints. Landladies running cheap rooms on tight budgets—often located right near bustling business or industrial areas—faced an uphill battle just to keep the lights on.

Their struggle wasn’t just financial; it was also extremely physical. Housework in the late 1800s was heavy, grueling labor. Without our modern conveniences, almost every task involved carrying water—and water is remarkably heavy. From cooking and scouring to daily cleaning and massive loads of laundry (made even heavier by the thick wools, linens, and structured fabrics of the Victorian era), running a household required endless physical exertion. In the summer months, kitchens became stifling, unventilated boxes that trapped heat and frayed tempers.

Because cheaper boarding houses lacked the luxury of hired help or updated amenities, corners had to be cut. Landladies were often stretched far beyond their physical limits, leaving them too exhausted to properly clean individual rooms daily or handle basic maintenance. To make ends meet on minimal budgets, their menu options were often minimal and monotonous. Even worse, their rooms were smaller, draftier, and closer to the clamor of the city streets, offering little relief for boarders at the end of a long workday.

Isabella Alden understood these differences and used them in her novels in ways her readers could identify with. In the opening chapters of Ester Ried, Isabella described Ester as tired, exhausted, and weary—a reflection of the long hours and crushing labor required to keep a household running. Her readers would have sympathized with Ester, and most would have recognized times in their own lives when they, too, found themselves overwhelmed by the physical demands of household duties.

Isabella illustrated the contrast between a well-managed boarding house and a lower-end establishment in her novel Workers Together; An Endless Chain. In that story, the circumstances of two young men—co-workers in the same business—cause them to have completely different boarding experiences.

Robert Parks lodges in a warm, well-managed home run by Joy Saunders and her mother. It’s located in a nice, respectable residential neighborhood and has a comforting, home-like environment.

Fred Briggs, on the other hand, receives a smaller paycheck and can only afford to lodge in an ill-managed, uncomfortable boarding house located near the industrial business district. Like Ester, his landlady is too overwhelmed and exhausted by the physical demands of the house to clean his room regularly or pay attention to her lower-paying tenants. When Fred falls ill, Robert visits him in his cheerless, neglected room and tries to enlist the help of “the uncombed, collarless, partly buttonless, altogether untidy woman who presided over this third-rate boarding-house, peopled by young men with small salaries.”

Interestingly, Robert’s visit to Fred’s boarding house becomes a turning point in his life—an unexpected test of character. It also shows Isabella’s talent as a story-teller. She didn’t just use boarding houses as colorful backdrops; she used them as mirrors for character. She understood that how we live, how we treat those trapped in overwhelming circumstances, and how we respond to our own daily weariness say everything about who we are.

HAVE YOU READ THE BOOKS MENTIONED IN THIS POST? CLICK ON THE BOOK COVERS TO GET STARTED!

Cover for Ester Ried

YOU CAN READ MORE ABOUT WOMEN’S DOMESTIC DUTIES IN THESE PREVIOUS POSTS:

The Boarding House in Isabella’s World

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If you’ve spent any time getting to know the characters in Isabella Alden’s novels, you’ve probably met them multiple times: the widow who takes in lodgers to keep her family afloat, the young store clerk boarding far from home for the first time, the landlady presiding over a dinner table crowded with as many opinions as boarders. Boarding houses show up so often in her stories that it’s easy to read right past them — but for Isabella’s original readers, they needed no explanation. For us, more than a century later, a bit of an explanation is in order.

Newspaper ad: St. Augustine, Fla. THE HERNANDEZ HOUSE, Charlotte Street, Two doors from treasury, St. Augustine, Fla. This House is strictly First Class, and Guests will find good attention, particularly Invalids. CHARGES MODERATE. Mrs. J. V. Hernandez, Priprietrees.
Newsapaper ad for a private boarding house in Florida, 1878.

A boarding house was, at its simplest, a private home where the owner rented out rooms and provided meals — typically breakfast and dinner were included in the weekly rate, with lunch offered as a lighter, extra meal since working boarders were away at midday. This is an important distinction: a boarding house was not the same thing as a rooming house, where a lodger rented a room but ate meals elsewhere, usually at a restaurant. Boarders lived and ate under one roof; roomers just slept there. Isabella’s characters moved between both kinds of arrangements, and knowing the difference helps explain a lot about their daily routines (and their complaints).

Black and white photo from about 1910 showing a neat two-story house with clapboard siding and a small screened front porch. A woman sits alone in a chair to the left of the house near a shade tree.
A small private home open to boarders. The sign near the seated woman reads “Rooms by day or week.”

A well-run boarding house was expected to offer more than just a bed. According to the standards of the day, a boarder could expect a clean, whole set of bedding, a washstand with a large pitcher for washing up, fresh drinking water left by the bed at night, and a well-supplied bathroom down the hall. Whether a house actually delivered on these basics — or fell woefully short of them — could make the difference between a boarder’s contentment and outright misery. We meet both kinds of houses in Isabella’s novels.

Black and white photo of a small room containing two twin beds with iron frames. At the foot of each bed is a wooden chair. A tall chest of drawers stands against a wall between two doors. On top of the chest are a mirror and small toiletry items and jars. In the foreground you can see what appears to be the edges of towels hanging from a rod. One small window is covered by a dark shade.
A boarder’s room at a boarding house in Uniontown, Pennsylvania (courtesy Uniontown Public Library).

In Isabella Alden’s lifetime, a woman who needed to support herself — or her family — had only a handful of respectable options. She could teach school. She could sew. She could clerk in a store. Or she could keep a boarding house.

That last option had a particular appeal for women who already owned a home, especially widows left with a house too large for their remaining family and no other income. It required little starting capital. You didn’t need to buy a building or stock a shop; you just opened the doors of the house you already had. And on paper, it looked deceptively simple: cook a bit more food, make up a few extra beds, and collect the weekly rent.

Old black and white photo of a small dining room with 2 gas lamps hanging from the ceiling. Four men sit at a table covered in a white table cloth as a woman wearing an apron carries a tray toward them. In the foreground is an empty table and chairs set with linens, dishes and cutlery. The walls and ceiling are covered with patterned wallpaper. In the back corner of the room you can see the exhaust pipes for a small wood-burning stove.
The dining room at Mrs. Heath’s boarding house, Duluth, Minnesota, 1893.

In practice, as Isabella’s own characters discover, it was one of the hardest ways a woman could make a living. Keeping boarders happy, fed, and paying required real business sense — knowing what to charge, what “extras” to allow, how to set rules boarders would actually obey and respect — and it demanded relentless physical labor that often fell hardest on daughters and servants rather than the woman whose name was on the sign. That was certainly the case in the Ried household in Isabella’s novel, Ester Ried.

Newspaper ad showing a photo of a large home. "IVERHOLME." Private Boarding. Billiards and smoking room. Suites of rooms, with private bathrooms. Good staff of servants. Individual tables. Private grounds. Most beautiful residential street in Toronto. Four minutes' walk from four car lines. Special accommodation for tourists during July and August. Write or phone when in the city. Telephone North 682. MRS. HELLIWELL.
Ad for a large well-staffed boarding house in the Toronto Daily Star, 1904.

Isabella Alden probably had some personal experience as a boarder. As the wife of a minister who moved frequently from one calling to the next, she likely spent time in boarding houses and rented rooms herself, sizing up landladies and dining rooms much the way her characters do. That experience may be exactly why her boarding house scenes feel so specific and true.

Isabella’s fellow boarders had their own reasons for renting rooms. They were people who needed lodging but didn’t have or want a household of their own — young unmarried clerks and salesmen, professionals new to a city, widows and widowers, traveling businessmen with schedules that didn’t match a family’s routine, and increasingly, by the turn of the century, single working women living independently of their families for the first time.

Some residents of the Taylor Boarding House in Denton, Texas, 1904.

That mix of backgrounds, ages, and personalities all sharing one dining table is exactly what made boarding houses such fertile ground for Isabella’s imagination. For her, a boarding house dining room could be the setting for a marriage proposal, a theological argument, a landlady’s quiet influence on a wayward young man, or a boarder-turned-lifelong-friend, all in the course of an ordinary week. Isabella used her boarding houses not just as scenery, but as places where her characters’ true selves came out and sometimes, their spiritual journeys were corrected.

Join us again on October 20 when we’ll begin looking at the boarding houses in Isabella’s novels, starting with a weary young heroine named Ester Ried and the exhausting responsibilities she carries as she tries to keep her family afloat.

Two pencil and charcoal illustrations showing women at work in a late 1800s kitchen. In one, two young women wearing aprons wipe plates and platters at a wooden table while behind them can be seen shelves with plates and platters arranged by size. In the second, a young woman wears an apron and capt to protect her hair as she washes plates by hand in a large tub.

Make Me a Puzzle

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Long before modern crossword puzzles appeared in 1913, Victorians enjoyed word games to pass the time. One of the most popular forms was the acrostic—a puzzle where the first letter of each line spells out a word, name, or hidden message when read vertically down the page.

A classic acrostic poem looks like this:

Stars up in the sky
They sparkle with love
All so glorious
Radiant above

Reading the first letters top-to-bottom reveals the secret word: STAR.

In The Pansy magazine, Isabella Alden encouraged her young readers to build acrostics, but with a spiritual twist — she asked them to spell out their names using lines from their favorite Bible verses.

Children responded with enthusiasm, sending in hundreds of scripture acrostics over the years, many of which Isabella published.

Here is one example sent in by a young reader who drew her verses from the Coverdale translation of the Bible. Can you read the first letter of each line to figure out her name?

Clipping from the magazine showing the acrostic puzzle transcribed below.

Keep innocency, and take heed unto the thing that is right.
And call upon me in time of trouble, so will I hear thee.
Teach me, O Lord, the way of thy statutes.
Early in the morning do I cry unto thee.

Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips that they speak no guile.

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth.
Order my steps in thy word, and so shall no wickedness have dominion over me.
Delight thou in the Lord, and he shall give thee thy heart’s desire.
Make me to understand the way of thy commandments.
A small thing the righteous hath is better than great riches of the ungodly.
Now are ye light in the Lord, walk as children of light.

Did you figure it out? The writer was Kate K. Rodman!

Another reader, Fanny C. Tingue, submitted a verse acrostic with a surprise. Instead of spelling her own name, she used scripture to spell out the name of her favorite author:

Clipping from the magazine showing the acrostic puzzle transcribed below.

My sheep hear my voice.
Righteous lips are the delight of kings.
So that we may boldly say, the Lord is my helper.

Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised.
Remove from me reproach and contempt.

And many believed on Him.
Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me.
Divers weights are an abomination unto the Lord.
Every man shall kiss his lips that giveth a right answer.
Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.

Fanny’s acrostic spells out MRS. G. R. ALDEN—Isabella’s married name—a thoughtful tribute that must have delighted Isabella.

Encouraging children to craft scripture acrostics was a wonderfully creative way to help them search the Scriptures, practice reading, and memorize verses that touched their hearts.

Why not try following Isabella’s challenge yourself? Choose your name, open your Bible, and see if you can create an acrostic using your favorite verses!

A Spurgeon Quotable

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In an 1891 issue of The Pansy magazine, Isabella Alden shared a thoughtful passage by the famous preacher Charles Spurgeon.

Because her magazine was written for young readers and families, Isabella frequently featured quotes and insights from spiritual leaders that illuminated simple truths. Spurgeon’s words draw a beautiful parallel between astronomy and the heart, reminding her readers—and all of us—how personal communion with Christ naturally deepens our devotion.

You can find more words of wisdom like the one above, which you can print and share. Just enter “quotables” in the search box on the right to see more.

New Free Read: “The Bureau of Destiny”

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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.

A newspaper column from the classified ads page under the heading "CLAIRVOYANTS" listing several businesses. CLAIRVOYANT Palmist and Card Reader. Queen Olamphey. Phone Cedar 852. No. 2 Crown Street. MADAM LILLIS, Daughter of Queen Alice. Hours, 10 a.m. to 8 p.m. No clients received on Sunday. 432 Pleasant Street, Cor. of Bellevue St. Phone Cedar 1911-W. LORNA LEE. Scientific palmist and medium. Her parlors are filled daily with people who go away pleased and satisfied. Come and see for yourself. LOW FEE this week: 50c, 41. No. 168 Pleasant St. Closed on Sunday.
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.

Newspaper advertisement block. Headline: "MODERN DRAMATISTS AND SOCIAL PROBLEMS" (Ibsen, Galsworthy Hauptman, Brieux) Dr. Raymond McDonald Alden of Leland Stanford University. Lecture at Professional Woman's Building, 210 East Grace, Friday Evening, 8:15 o'clock. ADMISSION $1.00. For Benefit of Bureau of Vocations.
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.

YOU CAN READ “THE BUREAU OF DESTINY” FOR FREE!

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A Novel Celebration

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One hundred years ago, J. B. Lippincott Company published two new novels by Isabella’s niece, Grace Livingston Hill: A New Name (her 43rd novel) and Coming Through the Rye (her 44th novel).

The Philadelphia Inquirer, March 27, 1926

The mid-1920s were an interesting time for an author like Grace. While literary critics enthusiastically praised modernist writers like Ernest Hemingway and F. Scott Fitzgerald, everyday readers continued to turn to Grace for something entirely different: comfort, clear moral lessons, and stories that reminded them that life could have a noble purpose.  

Evening Express, Portland, Maine, September 28, 1926

Community reading groups like the Riverside Reading Circle in Bridgeport, Connecticut, frequently placed her latest releases right at the top of their schedules:

Newspaper clipping: The last meeting of the season of the Riverside Reading Circle, will be held at the home of Mrs. Emma D. Chase, Maple street, Monday evening, May 24, at eight o'clock. The Circle has just completed the reading of Grace Livingston Hill's latest work, "A New Name" and Monday night's meeting will be for the purpose of closing up all business affairs of the year. Meetings will be resumed in the fall.
The Bridgeport Telegram, May 24, 1926.

That enthusiasm wasn’t limited to the 1920s. Decades later, readers were still discovering her work for the first time—and realizing their mothers and grandmothers had loved her, too. In April 2000, a newspaper in Kentucky published an article by a feature writer named Nancy Taylor, who wrote:

I discovered a small volume, Coming Through the Rye, and enjoyed it so much, I mentioned it to my mother as if I were telling her something she didn’t know.

“Grace Livingston Hill!” she said. “I’ve read so many of her books I don’t know where to begin. Matched Pearls is one of my favorite stories ever.”

Newspaper Ad: "COMING THROUGH THE RYE By Grace Livingston Hill. It's pretty hard for a girl to discover that her father is a bootlegger. And if the girl is as lovely as Romayne Ransome, it's equally hard for a young inspector do do his duty. But let the path "trough the rye" be ever so beset with misunderstandings, it always ends in lovers' meeting. Romance charming as the old song. $2.00 at all Bookstores. J. B. LIPPINCOTT CO., Philadelphia.
Chicago Tribune, September 25, 1926.

Ms. Taylor went on to write:

My great-grandmother read them, my grandmother read them, my mother read them, I’ve read them, and my daughter reads them.

Black and white photograph of Grace Livingston Hill in profile. with this caption: Grace Livingston Hill, in her new story, "Coming Through the Rye," touches the all important subject of bootlegging. She has written a great many stories, some twenty or more, and they are always of a more or less religious nature.
St Louis Globe-Democrat October 16, 1926

The old adage, “the more things change, the more they stay the same” is still true. Grace’s novels continue to hold the same place in readers’ hearts today as they did in 1926, and every year since. Perhaps Ms. Taylor said it best in the closing lines of her article published twenty-six years ago:

Where there is discouragement in the world, Grace sowed encouragement. Where there is yearning, Grace sowed hope, and she did it across generations. It is such a comfort to know that words which so long ago inspired our great-grandmothers are today an inspiration for our daughters. Grace Livingston Hill is the author of that gift.

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A Bicycle, a Bulldog, and Rev. G. R. Alden

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In 1918, Isabella’s husband, Reverend G. R. Alden was a healthy, hardy 86-year-old. Though retired from his ministerial duties in the Methodist church, he remained incredibly active. The Aldens were living in Palo Alto, California at the time, and because the Reverend didn’t drive, his bicycle was his primary mode of transportation. Seeing him pedaling his bike around town was a familiar and endearing sight in the neighborhood.

Illustration of a red men's bicycle with hand brake and a small black pouch attached behind the seat
A roadster bicycle from about 1915, described in advertisements as “admirably suitable for the young and middle-aged.”

Rev. Alden was also a well-known dog lover. Years earlier, he had written two children’s novels centered around a canine protagonist named Major: Major’s Autobiography and Major’s Friends, were both serialized in the pages of The Pansy magazine in 1892.

Black and white illustration of a boy wearing a sailor style top, breaches, and ankle boots, holding a large dog by the leash as they walk through a field, while three small dogs cavort around them.
An illustration from the 1892 serial story, “Major’s Friends.”

He was very open about his affection for four-legged friends. In the opening lines of Major’s Friends he declared to his young readers:

“By this time you will begin to believe that I am fond of dogs. Well, I am, if they are good, and I am especially fond of large, intelligent dogs.”

With such a deep affection for man’s-best-friend, it must have come as quite a shock to the Alden family—and the community—when the local papers ran a startling headline in July 1918.

Newspaper headline: VICIOUS DOG BITES REV. G. R. ALDEN

According to the July 17, 1918 issue of the Peninsula Times Tribune, Rev. Alden was riding his bicycle near his home one evening when he was suddenly “assaulted” by a vicious bull terrier. The dog bit him, leaving a painful injury on his left leg just above the ankle. The next morning, Rev. Alden reported the attack to the police, requesting that immediate action be taken to muzzle or properly handle the dangerous dog.

Because Isabella and the Reverend were such prominent figures in the region, the story quickly spread beyond Palo Alto to nearby San Jose. The Aldens were frequent visitors to the Mount Hermon Christian Camp in Santa Cruz, where they owned a cottage, so two days later, the Santa Cruz newspaper also picked up the story and added a few additional details for its readers.

Newspaper Article: MINISTER BITTEN BY bULLDOG. REV. G. R. ALDEN, WELL KNOWN HERE, VICTIM OF DOG. Rev. G. R. Alden is suffering from a rather painful injury caused by an attack by a bulldog Tuesday evening. Mr. Alden, a retired clergyman was riding his bicycle on Embarcadero road when he was attacked by the bulldog. He reported the matter to the police and the latter are looking for the owner. Mrs. Alden is the author of a famous series of books for girls that were very much read from 30 to 40 years ago. These were the "Pansy" books, which will be well remembered by the older generation. Mrs. and Mrs. Alden are living in retirement in Palo Alto. One son, R. M. Alden, is a professor at Stanford.

The article made sure to note that Mrs. Alden was the famous author of the beloved “Pansy” books, and proudly mentioned that their son, R. M. Alden, was currently serving as a professor at nearby Stanford University.

Thankfully, an injury above the ankle couldn’t keep a robust 86-year-old retired minister down for long, and Rev. Alden was soon back on his bicycle, pedaling around Palo Alto. It’s fascinating to see how a minor local mishap can reveal so much about the Aldens’ daily lives, their tight-knit family, and their enduring fame in California.

Did you know Reverend Alden wrote children’s stories about dogs? Have you ever read about Major’s adventures? Leave a comment below and share your thoughts!

Isabella and the Bottle that Took America by Storm

Published on by Isabella Alden2 Comments

Between 1900 and 1910 American consumers were introduced to some revolutionary new inventions and products that would significantly change their lives. In 1903 the Wright Brothers powered their first sustained airplane flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.

In 1908 the first Model T Ford automobile rolled off the production line in Detroit, Michigan.

Other inventions during the decade included the safety razor (1901), Cornflakes (1907), teabags (1904), washing machines (1908), and vacuum cleaners (1901).

From a 1909 issue of The Saturday Evening Post.

But in 1907, an entirely new product took the country by storm: the Thermos bottle. This cleverly designed vacuum bottle could keep drinks hot or cold for hours—something no other portable container could do.

Ad in a 1909 issue of Life magazine.

It’s easy to imagine Isabella Alden embracing this new invention, especially given the lifestyle she adopted after she and her family moved to California around 1901.

The Aldens settled in Palo Alto, where son Raymond was teaching at Stanford University. A few years later, Isabella and her husband became involved with the newly-founded Mount Hermon Christian camp near Santa Cruz. Mount Hermon reminded her of her beloved Chautauqua Institution, and it quickly became her summertime place of peace where she could rest, read, and worship among the giant redwood trees. Isabella recalled:

“Tent life seemed to belong to it as much as houses belong in most other places. We ate out of doors, and worked out of doors, and practically slept out of doors, with all the curtains of the tent looped high.”

When Thermos bottles first appeared in stores, they were luxury items. Depending on size, prices ranged from $3.50 to just over $5.00—the equivalent of about $125 to $150 in today’s money.

From a 1908 booklet, “Everything for the Autoist but the Auto.”

Travelers quickly embraced the Thermos bottle as a necessity worth the investment. Upper-middle class households purchased them, too, using Thermos bottles to keep food and drinks at stable temperatures without relying on wood-fire stoves, electricity, or refrigeration—all expensive options.

One in a series of trade cards distributed by The American Thermos Company.

The American Thermos Bottle Company of Norwich, Connecticut, launched a full ad campaign in magazines, trade journals, and newspapers. As sales increased, they launched additional products—pitchers and carafes, food storage bowls, and even completely furnished picnic baskets. With growing demand came increased production, and by the 1920s Thermos bottles were much more affordably priced.

Isabella never specifically mentioned a Thermos in her memoirs or her stories, but throughout her life she eagerly embraced new inventions and technologies. It seems probable that during those early rustic summer days at Mount Hermon, she might have had a Thermos bottle at her side for a cool drink of water.

Isabella’s niece, author Grace Livingston Hill, was also quick to embrace new inventions, and mentioned Thermos bottles in her novels, including The Prodigal Girl (1929) and The Street of the City (1942). In her novel Ladybird (1930), Grace wrote about the main character Fraley MacPherson marveling over a picnic lunch:

“There were other little packages with other sandwiches, some with fragrant slices of pink ham between them. There were hard-boiled eggs rolled in paper. There were olives and pickles, and chocolate cake and cookies, and white grapes and oranges—a feast for a king! There was coffee amazingly hot in a Thermos bottle. And in the wilderness!”

Thermos magazine ad from 1909

Whether or not Isabella actually owned a Thermos, she certainly lived during one of the most innovative decades in American history—and she took advantage of it. Her writing shows someone who was genuinely curious about new inventions and quick to see how they might improve her daily life. That openness to change and progress is just one more reason her work still feels surprisingly modern today.

You can read more about how Isabella embraced new inventions and technology in these posts:

New Free Read: “Midnight Callers”
A New Luxury
iPhones and Isabella
It’s National Sewing Machine Day
The Edison Connection
“She’s a Beauty”