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Charles Follen Adams (search for this): chapter 30
et Julia Ward, who comes quite late; how Greek wit flies! they scream with glee, drop thread and shears, and make the tea. E. H. Clement. if man could change the universe by force of epigrams in verse, He'd smash some idols, I allow, but who would alter Mrs. Howe? Robert Grant. Dot oldt Fader time must be cutting some dricks, Vhen he calls our goot Bresident's age eighty-six. an octogeranium! who would suppose? my dear Mrs. Julia Ward Howe der time goes! Yawcob Strauss (Charles Follen Adams). you, who are of the spring, to whom youth's joys must cling. May all that love can give beguile you long to live-- our Queen of hearts. Louise Chandler Moulton. Mrs. Howe's reply why, bless you, I ain't nothing, nor nobody, nor much, if you look in your Directory, you'll find a thousand such; I walk upon the level ground, I breathe upon the air, I study at a table, and reflect upon a chair. I know a casual mixture of the Latin and the Greek, I know the Frenchman's parlez-vo
Thomas Wentworth Higginson (search for this): chapter 30
dd, at which every bard of that nation brought four lines of verse — a sort of four-leaved clover — to his chief. T. W. Higginson, The Outlook, January 26, 1907. Sixty quatrains made what she calls an astonishing testimonial of regard. Colonel with stanzas four; behold us here, each bearing verse in hand to greet the four-leaved clover of our band. Thomas Wentworth Higginson. Five O'Clock with the Immortals the sisters three who spin our fate greet Julia Ward, who comes quite latehing. from Gardiner she writes to Sanborn for the Horatian lines she wishes to quote. ( whenever, she said once to Colonel Higginson, I want to find out about anything difficult, I always write to Sanborn of course! replied Higginson. we all do! Higginson. we all do! at this writing the same course is pursued, there is reason to believe, by many persons in many countries.) it is remembered that in these days when she was leaving Gardiner at the last moment she handed Laura i a note. It read, be sure to rub
n. My visitors were numerous, many of them the best friends that time has left me. T. W. H. Was very dear. My dear ones of the household bestirred themselves to send flowers, according to my wishes, to the children's Hospital and to Charles Street jail. May 28.... a great box of my birthday flowers ornamented the pulpit of the church. They were to be distributed afterwards to the Sunday-School children, some to the Primary teachers' Association; a bunch of lilies of the valley to Reverend Hayward's funeral to-morrow. I suddenly bethought me of Padre Roberto, and with dear Laura's help sent him a box of flowers for his afternoon service, with a few lines of explanation, to which I added the motto: Unus deus, una fides, unum baptisma. this filled full the cup of my satisfaction regarding the disposal of the flowers. They seemed to me such sacred gifts that I could not bear merely to enjoy them and see them fade. Now they will not fade for me. among the many screeds written
Julia Richards (search for this): chapter 30
ed that the last verse might trouble them, but it did not. November 19. Was busy trying to arrange bills and papers so as to go to Gardiner to-morrow with my Richards son-in-law, when in the late afternoon Rosalind told me that dear noble Ednah Cheney had died. This caused me much distress. My first word was: The house of Gotried some lines. May 19. Doubted much of my poem, but wrote it, spending most of the working hours over it; wrote and rewrote, corrected again and again. Julia Richards mailed it at about 4 P. M.... Just as I went to bed I remembered that in the third verse of my poem I had used the words tasks and erect as if they rhymed. nstantly a line with a proper rhyme presented itself to my mind. To add to my trouble I had lost the address to which I had sent the poem. My granddaughter, Julia Richards, undertook to interview the Syndicate by longdistance telephone, and, failing this, to telegraph the new line for me. So I left all in her hands. When I retu
Israel Zangwill (search for this): chapter 30
.... The next day came an entertainment in aid of Atlanta University and Calhoun School; she enjoyed this exceedingly, especially the plantation songs, which are of profoundest pathos, mixed with overpowering humor. It was pleasant, too, to see the audience in which descendants of the old anti-slavery folk formed quite a feature. I had worked hard at the screed which was, I think, good. Heard interesting reports of mission work in our entire South. At the Authors' Club she met Israel Zangwill, who was rather indifferent when introduced to her. She thought he probably knew nothing about her, and adds,-- It is good perhaps to be taken down, now and then. In March she attended a hearing in connection with the School Board. The chair most courteously invited me to speak, saying, There is here a venerable lady who will hardly be likely to come here again for the present discussion, so I shall give her the remaining time. Whereupon I leaped into the arena and said my say.
Harriet Beecher Stowe (search for this): chapter 30
and Woman's Club. In my perplexity I said: Lord, I do not deserve to have You help me find it ; but the answer seemed to come thus: My help is of grace and not according to desert ; and I found it at once where I ought to have looked for it at first .... January 20.... You can't do good with a bad action. [Apropos of the shot fired at the Czar.] The reason why a little knowledge is dangerous is that your conceit of it may make you refuse to learn more. She was writing a paper on Mrs. Stowe and Uncle Tom's cabin, and worked hard over it. The pace began to tell. She spoke for the friends of Russian freedom, a warm speech, almost without preparation. I knew that I should find my inspiration in the occasion itself. I had almost a spasm of thankfulness to Almighty God for the opportunity to speak for such a cause at such a time. At the suffrage hearing soon after, she spoke of the force of inertia as divinely ordained and necessary, but ordained, too, to be overcome by t
Democratic Review (search for this): chapter 30
. Father sent the pair off in his own carriage, with four horses, their manes and tails braided with white ribbons. They drove part of the way to Philadelphia. November 28.... To Wellesley College.... William Butler Yeats lectured on the revival of letters in Ireland. We dined with him afterwards at Miss Hazard's house. He is a man of fiery temperament, with a slight, boyish figure: has deep-set blue eyes and dark hair; reminds me of John O'Sullivan Hawthorne's friend of the Democratic Review. in his temperament; is certainly, as Grandpa Ward said of the Red Revolutionists, with whom he dined in the days of the French Revolution, very warm. November 29 .... This came into my mind, apropos of reformers generally: Dost thou so carry thy light as to throw it upon thyself, or upon thy theme? This appears to me a legitimate question .... December 21. Put the last touches to my verses for Colonel Higginson's eightieth birthday. Maud went with me to the celebration held b
W. A. Mozart (search for this): chapter 30
I advised her to reflect before embarking upon this new voyage.... When she told me what she had in mind to say, I felt that a real word had been given her. I said: Go and say that! ... April 1.... A telegram announced the birth of my first great-grandchild, Harry Hall's infant daughter Julia Ward Howe Hall.. . . April 11. To Mrs. Bigelow Lawrence's, Parker House, to hear music. Mrs. [Henry] Whitman called for me. Delightful music; two quartettes of Beethoven's, a quintette of Mozart's, which I heard at Joseph Coolidge's some thirty or more years ago. I recognized it by the first movement, which Bellini borrowed in a sextette which I studied in my youth from La Straniera, an opera never given in these days.... April 17. Winchendon lecture.... A day of anguish for me. I was about to start for Winchendon when my dearest Maud so earnestly besought me not to go, the weather being very threatening, that I could not deny her. Words can hardly say how I suffered in giving u
Robert Grant (search for this): chapter 30
Boston Authors' Club at the Colonial Club, Cambridge. T. W. H. seemed in excellent condition; I presided as usual. Bliss Perry, first speaker, came rather late, but made a very good address. Crothers and Dean Hodges followed, also Clement. Judge Grant read a simple, strong poem, very good, I thought. Then came my jingle, intended to relieve the strain of the occasion, which I think it did. Maud says that I hit the bull's eye; perhaps I did. Then came a pretty invasion of mummers, bearing tlate; how Greek wit flies! they scream with glee, drop thread and shears, and make the tea. E. H. Clement. if man could change the universe by force of epigrams in verse, He'd smash some idols, I allow, but who would alter Mrs. Howe? Robert Grant. Dot oldt Fader time must be cutting some dricks, Vhen he calls our goot Bresident's age eighty-six. an octogeranium! who would suppose? my dear Mrs. Julia Ward Howe der time goes! Yawcob Strauss (Charles Follen Adams). you, who are of
Emancipation Proclamation (search for this): chapter 30
hall Looking down upon the white heads of my contemporaries Beneath what mound of snow Are hid my springtime roses? How shall Remembrance know Where buried Hope reposes? In what forgetful heart As in a canton darkling, Slumbers the blissful art That set my heaven sparkling? What sense shall never know, Soul shall remember; Roses beneath the snow, June in November. J. W. H. The year 1903 began with the celebration at Faneuil Hall of the fortieth anniversary of Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation. She was one of the speakers. I felt much the spirit of the occasion, and spoke, I thought, better than usual, going back to the heroic times before and during the war, and to the first celebration forty years ago, at which I was present. Work of all kinds poured in, the usual steady stream. January 6. Wrote a new circular for Countess. Who the Countess was, or what the circular was about, is not known. By this time it had become the custom (or so it seemed to exasperated
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