"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.--