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Thornton (search for this): chapter 2
ight [go] and she said we might if we would not go beyond the common fence. We went and when we got there we found people in abundance. As we were going along, Thornton [Ware] caught up with us having in each hand one of his father's firebuckets. He seemed to be quite at home there. There were a great many blankets, &c., hangiey's Cecelia. To his mother he thus recounted his doings:— I will now tell you of our May party. We met on the 30th of April at 5 A. M. just down by Thornton's to choose a queen ... Afterwards we went to Mount Auburn and walked and played until 10 o'clock when we came home. ... I forgot to say that as [we] were going the rest of us. I had a splendid time on the fourth of July. I went into Boston . . . for the sake of seeing the fireworks in the evening. I walked in with Thornton, at about 10 A. M. . . . The children were delighted to see Tommy, as they both called me. I played me hidey with Lizzy for ever so long. We saw several compani
Hill (search for this): chapter 2
nterest. The old habit of preserving family correspondence was never abandoned by Colonel Higginson. These little letters were written between the boy's tenth and thirteenth years in a round clear script:— Dear Aunt:— Henry [a cousin] left us today. The stage comes to Davenport's tavern [North Cambridge]; so he had to go up there and meet it.... We had [to] wait a long time for the stage and at last it came, with 6 white horses.... Fast Day Henry and me went up to Prospect-Hill [Somerville]. Unluckily the mill was not going, but we ran round and saw lots of little fortifications, and found an old well nearly covered with a large stone which I have heard was made in the Revolution. I brought home two stones from it. To his brother in Maryland he wrote when eleven years old:— I have got 5 more Waverley Novels since you have been gone: Ivanhoe, The Monastery, The Pirates, and the 1st and 2nd Series of Chronicles of the Canongate, besides Peveril of the Peak <
Foster (search for this): chapter 2
se-Shoe Robinson, a book by the author of Swallow barn, both which are very entertaining. I have also read Miss Burney's Cecelia. To his mother he thus recounted his doings:— I will now tell you of our May party. We met on the 30th of April at 5 A. M. just down by Thornton's to choose a queen ... Afterwards we went to Mount Auburn and walked and played until 10 o'clock when we came home. ... I forgot to say that as [we] were going to Mount Auburn we stopped a little while at Mrs. Foster's and she gave us some cake. We found no flowers except half blown anemones. Dearly-Beloved Mother, The miniature tigresses' (that is Aunt Nancy, and Mrs.—) being absent, I sit down, away from the discord of feminine voices, which there usually is when I write! What do you think of that? ... Aunt Nancy will hardly ever show me any of your letters, for she says you always write sentiment to her, and sublunary things to the rest of us. I had a splendid time on the fourth of July.
John Wentworth (search for this): chapter 2
ember 26, 1861:— Your birthday was remembered and honored by gratitude and praise, remembering as I did the poor half dead baby that I had for so long walked about in my arms and fed religiously according to direction every two hours, bearing hope in my heart when there seemed no hope, and even the most experienced doctors gave him up; how could I be but grateful and exultant when I think of my stalwart son, the Day Star of my Life! Too many babies is the concise label with which Wentworth, the man, indorsed a letter written by his Aunt Nancy in 1824, in which she says:— I believe I have not written you since the birth of our young Thomas Wentworth. I meant to have announced to you the arrival of the Stout Gentleman. . . . Our Wentworth grows such a mountain—that we think sometimes it would be well to ask Mr. Perkins to invent some kind of a steam-engine whereby to tend him this summer—for we have some misgivings concerning the strength of our arms. . . . Oh, dear!
John Holmes (search for this): chapter 2
Tommy there is a fire. I looked out of the window and saw a blaze. . . . I asked Sister Anna if we might [go] and she said we might if we would not go beyond the common fence. We went and when we got there we found people in abundance. As we were going along, Thornton [Ware] caught up with us having in each hand one of his father's firebuckets. He seemed to be quite at home there. There were a great many blankets, &c., hanging on the fence. . . . Some burnt papers were found as far as Dr. Holmes's. There were a great many books thrown out of the window. . . . I suppose I have not given you a very good description of the fire, but it is as good as I can give. I was glad to receive your knife, for I wanted it very much. Tell brother Stephen that I took the schooner that I was making when he came here, to pieces. I am now making a sloop instead of it. I think this is a pretty long letter, so Goodbye. Love to all. Your affectionate nephew, Wentworth. Dear Aunt Nancy,—
William Wells (search for this): chapter 2
, one of them cried, Ask Wentworth. He probably has a list of blankets in his pocket! The older brothers, Thacher and Waldo, went to a boy's school kept by William Wells, an Englishman, in an old colonial house, still to be seen on Brattle Street (then Tory Row), Cambridge. To this school Wentworth was promoted at the age of ewith amusement the fact that the old custom of serving pudding before meat lingered there. Athletic sports, as well as the humanities, were warmly encouraged by Mr. Wells, and the afternoons spent in cricket, football, and skating on Fresh Pond were always remembered with boyish glee. After leaving the school, his brother Waldo wrote thus to the younger boy about Mr. Wells:— There are few men that I like better, and I came to this state of feelings through some hard floggings, which I am glad your better behaved shoulders have escaped. When Wentworth was nine, his mother recorded that he had read a great many books and was especially fond of natu
Morse (search for this): chapter 2
ilt by her son Francis. This house is no longer standing, having been absorbed by Radcliffe College. Wentworth wrote this description of a visit to their former home:— April 13, 1836. I went to our [old] house to see the auction. Mr. Morse begun with the dining-room, then went to the back parlour and then to the study. The champagne bottles sold for 4 1/8 cents apiece; the clock for $3 3/4; and a little table in there for 1 cent. ... There was an old curious chair, which Mr. MorMr. Morse finding he could not sell, broke. I was much obliged to him for I got a nice bat by it. Occasionally a bit of autobiography is found among the old letters, as this:— I vividly remember when I first swam above my depth in the Charles River. We boys had been learning to swim at a point in the river not far from the willows where we played and read Spenser's Faerie Queene. The first time I swam across from one point to another in this river was perhaps the proudest moment of my lif
John Martin (search for this): chapter 2
red with a large stone which I have heard was made in the Revolution. I brought home two stones from it. To his brother in Maryland he wrote when eleven years old:— I have got 5 more Waverley Novels since you have been gone: Ivanhoe, The Monastery, The Pirates, and the 1st and 2nd Series of Chronicles of the Canongate, besides Peveril of the Peak which you left behind. Sunday School is in the Courthouse now. . . . I shall like to hear about a fox-hunt. Are there any slaves at Mr. Martin's, and do they blow a conch in the morning to collect them? . . . I read the Spectator a few days ago. Aunt Nancy received the two following letters:— How are you?... I am reading the Tales of a Grandfather and like them very much. . . . I am learning the conjugation of the verb parler, to speak. . . . I think that I shall go into Caesar, after the vacation, at school. . . . I have seen some snowdrops already in Mrs. Carpenter's yard. I meant to ask her for some the other day,
Jennison (search for this): chapter 2
l the happy home in which he was reared. Indeed, we can almost breathe the atmosphere of that home when we read such sentences as these: A large Damask rose bush sends its fragrance into one of our parlour windows and the yellow sweet briar waves its long wreaths into the other. . . . We read and work and walk and play and study German and laugh and talk and then there is nothing but smiles and sunshine to be seen. When Wentworth was not quite four, he went to a Dame School kept by a Miss Jennison. He also went to dancing-school in a private house. His mother writes:— We . . . have been quietly seated at our work . . . only interrupted by little Wentworth's rampant spirits before he went to bed. He spells to me every night in sister's little book. Last night he read God Reigns. He looked up at me and asked, What does God do with the reins? At bedtime, one night, he announced, Now I am going to dream something proper funny. Thus early began his lifelong interest in
Swallow (search for this): chapter 2
you a very good description of the fire, but it is as good as I can give. I was glad to receive your knife, for I wanted it very much. Tell brother Stephen that I took the schooner that I was making when he came here, to pieces. I am now making a sloop instead of it. I think this is a pretty long letter, so Goodbye. Love to all. Your affectionate nephew, Wentworth. Dear Aunt Nancy,— I have just been reading Pride and prejudice and Horse-Shoe Robinson, a book by the author of Swallow barn, both which are very entertaining. I have also read Miss Burney's Cecelia. To his mother he thus recounted his doings:— I will now tell you of our May party. We met on the 30th of April at 5 A. M. just down by Thornton's to choose a queen ... Afterwards we went to Mount Auburn and walked and played until 10 o'clock when we came home. ... I forgot to say that as [we] were going to Mount Auburn we stopped a little while at Mrs. Foster's and she gave us some cake. We found
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