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sitors to enter her room, prescribing absolute quiet. But her brother relates that she kept enquiring for Lincoln so continuously, at times demanding to see him, that the family at last sent for him. On his arrival at her bedside the door was closed and he was left alone with her. What was said, what vows and revelations were made during this sad interview, were known only to him and the dying girl. A few days afterward she became unconscious and remained so until her death on the 25th day of August, 1835. She was buried in what is known as the Concord grave-yard, about seven miles north-west of the town of Petersburg. I have heard mother say that Anne would frequently sing for Lincoln's benefit. She had a clear, ringing voice. Early in her illness he called, and she sang a hymn for which he always expressed a great preference. It begins: Vain man, thy fond pursuits forbear. You will find it in one of the standard hymn-books. It was likewise the last thing she ever sung
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 1, Chapter 8: early professional life.—September, 1834, to December, 1837.—Age, 23-26. (search)
too hard. Sumner himself afterwards thought that he had given too much of his time to writing for magazines. But his health did not fail him. He was rarely ill; and notwithstanding his excessive application he was able to write to a friend, Aug. 25, 1835, when suffering from a headache, that it was his first experience of the kind. He gave at this time no promise of future distinction as an orator. His few arguments in court were mere statements of the law, with illustrations from historyiness of our State,—will be worth more to you than a governmental office. I believe that you will feel yourself a stronger man when you have passed through this labor than before. . . . Yours truly, C. S To Dr. Francis Lieber. Boston, Aug. 25, 1835. my dear doctor,—The day has gone by for a degree for Mittermaier this season. He will probably receive it next year. . . . In the Revue Étrangere, edited by M. Foelix, of Paris (a correspondent of mine), is a long article on the translat