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Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life, IV: the young pedagogue (search)
to become a private tutor in the family of his cousin, Stephen H. Perkins, of Brookline. The last days at Jamaica Plain he thus describes:— February 28. Schters removed to Brattleboro, Vermont, Wentworth transferred his belongings to Brookline where he was to teach the three sons of Mr. Perkins. He took with him a quanles, and he took part in their frequent meetings and merrymakings. It was in Brookline that he first met his second cousin, Mary Channing, daughter of Dr. Walter Ch is spoken of here, he wrote, but the Community and Magnetism. The group of Brookline cousins often exchanged visits with the young people at the Community, or Broded the poem in his volume called The Estray, the youth's cup was full. In Brookline, the young man had plenty of leisure for his favorite pursuits, for he wrote:I feel overflowing with mental energies—I will be Great if I can. While in Brookline, Higginson tried to live freely and simply like the birds and squirrels, decl
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life, V: the call to preach (search)
of my class here, and no others I care much about—though I have half a dozen visiting acquaintance. . . . I lead a nice oysterlike life with occasional trips to Brookline and Boston. . . . Commons I like very much. To his mother who was anxious about her son's frugal diet, he wrote:— As to commons you must be satisfied tking football in the evening, pleased to find that his running powers had increased. Skating on Fresh Pond still attracted him; coasting was always to be had in Brookline; and there was the same fascination in having long evening talks with Parker (now a law student) as in undergraduate days. Another diversion was attending matof learning whatever there is to be learned. He continues:— I am delighted to find my memory is becoming more retentive than ever before. The last year at Brookline gave me time to digest the immense weight of miscellaneous matter heaped on it from my earliest boyhood, and now I begin to study to very much more advantage and<
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life, VI: in and out of the pulpit (search)
, for a remembrance. Unless it is worth while to have me stay long enough on earth to produce something, it is not worth while to be remembered at all. Was this in Keats' mind, when he chose his epitaph Here lies one whose name was writ in water ? Should I go before I have borne not flowers only but fruit, I would have no biography written and have my epitaph 'T is not a life! 'T is but a piece of childhood thrown away! Later, after one of the annual family Thanksgiving parties in Brookline, Wentworth thus defined himself to his mother:— If not exactly one of the Hans Andersen's ugly ducks, I have always been an odd chicken. I have always been at other people's Thanksgiving parties and not my own. I have been a snubbed little boy among an elder cousinly circle, I have been a Lord of Misrule among a younger; but not until we are all born again into some sphere of Saturn or Uranus shall I find a Thanksgiving party of contemporaries. Still I am not sure but this office o