Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2

[321] much society is consistent with her present condition; but I am sure of the interest she always had in seeing you and your wife.

Macready had a plan of giving, as a farewell to his friends, a private reading in a large hall, and a supper afterwards. I doubt the expediency of the supper. Such an entertainment for the benefit of the stomachs of several hundred persons will hardly serve any pleasant purpose of hospitality that shall be at all commensurate with the necessary expense. I can imagine, too, that it might be an unfortunate failure. Pray call Felton's attention to this matter,—as I believe he is stage manager.

Mr. Calvert is here, whose name has a slight odor of literature. We have talked about Longfellow, whose friend he is. His admiration of James Lowell, whom he knows not, seems unbounded. He said he was very indignant with the North American Review for its want of appreciation of Lowell. I was pleased to hear such earnest praise from lips uninfluenced by friendship or the bonds of a coterie. I hope you will find time to write me once more. If any thing comes from Europe that will be interesting, send it to me, after you have first read it yourself. Many thanks to Peleg Chandler, for his kind and interesting letter. Adieu! Give my love to all the Club.

Ever thine,

C. S.

To his brother George.

Boston, Oct. 15, 1844.

my dear George,—You were perhaps prepared, by the beautiful adieu of our dear Mary, which was speeded to you by the last packet, for the sad tidings of her death. Before her few words could have reached you, we placed her mortal remains in the tomb. She died at nine o'clock in the morning of Friday, Oct. 11, and was buried on Sunday afternoon, Oct. 13. A few days before her death, she expressed a wish that Mr. Gannett should read at her funeral the service of our church,—adding to this whatever his own judgment or feelings might suggest. In the performance of this wish, I asked his kind presence and prayers on that occasion. In the touching and beautiful prayer which he offered there was an allusion to ‘the brother who, in the providence of God, had been separated for many years from the beloved sister,’ and a hope ‘that he might be strengthened to bear this sorrow with resignation.’

I was recalled from Newport, where I was passing my time in exercise in the open air, by the tidings of the progress of Mary's disease. I found her weak, very weak,—almost voiceless. Her beautiful countenance was sunken; and the sharp angles of death had appeared even before the breath had departed. She still lingered on, however,—sometimes in considerable pain,— and we feared with each protracted day new suffering. She herself wished to die; and I believe that we all became anxious at last that the Angel should descend to bear her aloft. From the beautiful flower of her life the leaves had all gently fallen to the earth; and there remained but little for tile hand