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Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life, XIV: return to Cambridge (search)
Howe, usually beginning My dear Vice. One of the members called this club Higginson's last plaything. Among the annual public gatherings which he frequently attended was the meeting of the Social Science Association at Saratoga, where he presided over the educational department or gave addresses. He sometimes lectured at Chautauqua which he called An innocent Saratoga. When he went forth on these expeditions to scream among his fellows, as an irreverent friend was fond of quoting from Bryant's Waterfowl, unforeseen difficulties sometimes arose. In such cases a happy versatility saved the day, as when in Bangor, in 1887:— Last night I had a good lecture, though I learned just as we went into the church door that the subject was different from what I had supposed, so that I had to switch my thoughts off very suddenly. In January, 1888, he meditated:— It is curious to see how my 64th birthday seems the turning-point for my reputation such as it is. I had a notice o
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life, XV: journeys (search)
can author has described a memorable walk which he took in Hyde Park with Froude and Carlyle. I wished, he wrote home, we could all be photographed . . . . We three were nearly run over in crossing the tide [Rotten Row] and dear old Carlyle had to run for life. I am so glad to have seen him— he was charming. Not long after, he dined with Darwin at his home, which he described in his letters as enlawned. Soon enter the philosopher, taller than I, erect, white-bearded, like a kindlier Bryant, looking like his photograph, but more human and sweet—he was most genial, slight as was my claim on him ... he seemed even a greater man than I had thought him. The daily record goes on:— Heard Tyndall at Royal Institute and saw him afterwards—delightful man—asked me to dine with him. . . . I sat between Tyndall and one whom I supposed a physician but found to be Lord Lyttleton. I remembered luckily a pretty Latin translation by him of a poem of Lord Houghton's and spoke of it