"Those who had journeyed many miles began arriving singly, in
groups, on foot and horseback, and in lumbering wagons; coming up
the hill from the turnpike, down from its summit under cool maples,
along the Bristol highway that tapped the Hill road by the
schoolhouse, across pastures and fields."-- -Now and then a novel
writes itself. Eliza Nelson Blair could no more help writing
"'Lisbeth Wilson" than she could help breathing. The story must
have been with her night and day, sleeping and waking, until to lay
the ghosts she had to put it on paper. The heroine and her lover
are separated by a sternly conscientious father on account of
differences in religious belief, and their troubled courtship makes
a story of unflagging interest. The scene is laid in the New
Hampshire hills, among the people of a generation ago, and no
photograph or phonograph could do more perfect justice to their
habits, manners and speech. --N. Y. World 1895 -For those who like
a story told in a leisurely way, and who enjoy the New Hampshire
people, there is entertainment galore in these pages; for Mrs.
Blair has a fine sense of humour and a rare appreciation of a good
situation; her sensitive, refined manner of narration, the delicate
penetration into character, and the enjoyment which she has
evidently taken in the work, all conspire to make this book a
worthy addition to the literary presentment of a certain phase of
life in New England, and of the great, deep needs of humanity
underlying its ever-varying forms.--
General
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