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Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe 10 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Olde Cambridge 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Letters and Journals of Thomas Wentworth Higginson 4 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe. You can also browse the collection for J. T. Fields or search for J. T. Fields in all documents.

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ur note to him. To think of his setting-off on his own account when I was away! Come now, since your answer to dear Mrs. Fields is yet to come; let it be a glad yes, and we will clasp you to our heart of hearts. Your ever loving, H. B. S. is purity, Mrs. Lewes wrote the following words of sympathy:-- My dear friend,--The other day I had a letter from Mrs. Fields, written to let me know something of you under that heavy trouble, of which such information as I have had has been qu and many times before our friend's letter came I had said to Mr. Lewes: What must Mrs. Stowe be feeling! I remember Mrs. Fields once told me of the wonderful courage and cheerfulness which belonged to you, enabling you to bear up under exceptiona My dear friend,--I have been long without sending you any sign (unless you have received a message from me through Mrs. Fields), but my heart has been going out to you and your husband continually as among the chief of the many kind beings who h
I needed it, and I never read more to my own satisfaction than last night. Now, my dear husband, please do want, and try, to remain with us yet a while longer, and let us have a little quiet evening together before either of us crosses the river. My heart cries out for a home with you; our home together in Florida. Oh, may we see it again! Your ever loving wife. From Fitchburg, Mass., under date of October 29th, she writes:-- In the cars, near Palmer, who should I discover but Mr. and Mrs. J. T. Fields, returning from a Western trip, as gay as a troubadour. I took an empty seat next to them, and we had a jolly ride to Boston. I drove to Mr. Williams's house, where I met the Chelsea agent, who informed me that there was no hotel in Chelsea, but that they were expecting to send over for me. So I turned at once toward 148 Charles Street, where I tumbled in on the Fields before they had got their things off. We had a good laugh, and I received a hearty welcome. I was qu