others which have been strung, one after another, in this busiest of years for me. I have also despaired of it, and am not yet sure of its acceptance.”
Next day she felt that she “must see the last of dear Edwin Booth
The Journal describes his funeral at length; “the sun perfectly golden behind the trees.”
She brought away a bit of evergreen from the grave, and at church, two days later, “had the sexton slide it in among the pulpit flowers; afterward brought it home.
Perhaps a silly fancy, but an affectionate one.”
She wrote a poem in memory of Mr. Booth
, “not altogether to my satisfaction.”
She felt his death as a real loss; he remained always to her a beautiful and heroic figure, connected with a great time.
. ‘Thus far the Lord
has led me on.’
I have had many pieces of work to accomplish, and when almost despairing, seemed to have been uplifted right into my working seat, and so have fulfilled my tasks as well as I was able.
Have still my Fourth of July poem to write, and wish to write a poem in memory of Edwin Booth
I'm hungry, oh!
how hungry, for rest and reading.
Must work very hard for A. A.W. this season.. .”
She went to Harvard Class Day this summer, her eldest grandson, Samuel Prescott Hall, being of the graduating class; drove out to Cambridge
in a pouring rain, and enjoyed the occasion.
“I saw my Boy march with his fellows; when they cheered Weld
, I waved a napkin.”
The summer sped by on wings of study and work;