It is common enough to find persons endowed with one, two, or even
three of those four great elemental qualities out of which the noblest
souls are made—an inviolable conscience, profound intellect,
irresistible will, and illimitable affections. But to meet a man or
woman having all is as moving as it is uncommon. Our Nellie Russell had
all. For four years she was an inmate of our home and, during all her
remarkable career as a missionary in China, we kept in the closest
possible touch with her and her work. As a result of this intimate
acquaintance we learned to look upon her as an unique and even
wonderful woman. Life took hold of her with tremendous power and so did
she of life. To see all things clearly, to feel her solemn
responsibility to every soul that crossed her path, to act with
decision and determination in every emergency, was as natural for her
as to breathe. Her great dark eyes were at some times like deep wells
at the bottom of which truth lay, at others like stars emitting a
tender light, and at others like hot coals flashing fires of generous
and righteous wrath.
Righteousness never went unpraised nor unrighteousness unrebuked or
unscourged by Nellie Russell. She loved the good and she hated the evil
of life with equal ardor. Her sympathy for those in trouble cost her a
sort of agony, her love for her friends was an undying passion. When
she went to China she took its great people into her very heart. All
men, women, and children were brothers and sisters to her, and to spend
and be spent for them was a spiritual hunger.
During a memorable week of one of her vacations spent in our summer
cottage we were made to marvel at her insight into human nature and
into the great problems of life. As we listened to her modest story of
her experience in the siege of Peking, or heard her merry, ringing
laugh whenever the ludicrous elements in social intercourse or
surroundings appeared; when, in our little motor-boat, we saw her great
eyes beam with delight at some fresh form of nature’s loveliness and
heard her exclaim with irrepressible enthusiasm as we floated here and
there among the islands, “Oh, it is as beautiful as the Orient!” we
seemed to be in contact with the very soul of the universe in some
peculiar manner.
And when we heard of her death! oh, that was hard indeed! Again and
again we had written her that there was a room in our home reserved for
her perpetual use. It was a cherished hope to have her with us when her
work was done, but it was too good and great a hope for realization
here.
If this seems like overpraise to you, just let it go at that. You did
not know her, or you did not appreciate her. We never heard her
overpraised! She has ever been and ever more must be a pure, inspiring
presence in our lives.