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Maine (Maine, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
ver. In November Mrs. Stowe contributed to the Atlantic monthly a touching little allegory, The mourning veil. In December, 1858, the first chapter of The minister's Wooing appeared in the same magazine. Simultaneously with this story was written The Pearl of Orr's Island, published first as a serial in the Independent. She dictated a large part of The minister's Wooing under a great pressure of mental excitement, and it was a relief to her to turn to the quiet story of the coast of Maine, which she loved so well. In February, 1874, Mrs. Stowe received the following words from Mr. Whittier, which are very interesting in this connection: When I am in the mood for thinking deeply I read The Minister's Wooing. But The Pearl of Orr's Island is my favorite. It is the most charming New England idyl ever written. The minister's Wooing was received with universal commendation from the first, and called forth the following appreciative words from the pen of Mr. James
Orrs Island (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
the Duchess of Sutherland. letter to her daughters in Paris. letter to her sister Catherine. visit to Brunswick and Orr's Island. writes the minister's Wooing and the Pearl of Orr's Island. Mr. Whittier's comments. Mr. Lowell on the minister'Orr's Island. Mr. Whittier's comments. Mr. Lowell on the minister's Wooing. letter to Mrs. Stowe from Mr. Lowell. John Ruskin on the minister's Wooing. a year of sadness. letter to Lady Byron. letter to her daughter. departure for europe. Immediately after Mrs. Stowe's return from England in June, 1857pter of The minister's Wooing appeared in the same magazine. Simultaneously with this story was written The Pearl of Orr's Island, published first as a serial in the Independent. She dictated a large part of The minister's Wooing under a great pg in this connection: When I am in the mood for thinking deeply I read The Minister's Wooing. But The Pearl of Orr's Island is my favorite. It is the most charming New England idyl ever written. The minister's Wooing was received with u
New England (United States) (search for this): chapter 17
ing. But The Pearl of Orr's Island is my favorite. It is the most charming New England idyl ever written. The minister's Wooing was received with universal cohat in The minister's Wooing she has chosen her time and laid her scene amid New England habits and traditions. There is no other writer who is so capable of perpeto, by birth, breeding, and natural capacity, has had the opportunity to know New England so well as she, or who has the peculiar genius so to profit by the knowledgespecially charmed me in the new story was, that you had .taken your stand on New England ground. You are one of the few persons lucky enough to be born with eyes in in of your figures. As for theology, it is as much a part of daily life in New England as in Scotland, and all I should have to say about it is this: let it crop ot I know. There is not, and never was, anybody so competent to write a true New England poem as yourself, and have no doubt that you are doing it. The native sod se
Braunschweig (Lower Saxony, Germany) (search for this): chapter 17
on. letter to the Duchess of Sutherland. letter to her daughters in Paris. letter to her sister Catherine. visit to Brunswick and Orr's Island. writes the minister's Wooing and the Pearl of Orr's Island. Mr. Whittier's comments. Mr. Lowell w Andover look so beautiful; the trees so green, the foliage so rich. Papa and I are just starting to spend a week in Brunswick, for I am so miserable — so weak — the least exertion fatigues me, and much of my time I feel a heavy languor, indiffer, all rosy, with the silver moon looking out of it. Papa said with a deep sigh, I am submissive, but not reconciled. Brunswick, September 6, 1857. My dear girls,--Papa and I have been here for four or five days past. We both of us felt so unwell that we thought we would try the sea air and the dear old scenes of Brunswick. Everything here is just as we left it. We are staying with Mrs. Upham, whose house is as wide, cool, and hospitable as ever. The trees in the yard have grown finely
Nazareth, Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
scare all the folks on Eagle Island. We have also been to Maquoit. We have visited the old pond, and, if I mistake not, the relics of your old raft yet float there; at all events, one or two fragments of a raft are there, caught among rushes. I do not realize that one of the busiest and happiest of the train who once played there shall play there no more. He shall return to his house no more, neither shall his place know him any more. I think I have felt the healing touch of Jesus of Nazareth on the deep wound in my heart, for I have golden hours of calm when I say: Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in thy sight. So sure am I that the most generous love has ordered all, that I can now take pleasure to give this little proof of my unquestioning confidence in resigning one of my dearest comforts to Him. I feel very near the spirit land, and the words, I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me, are very sweet. Oh, if God would give to you, my dear children, a view o
Scotland (United Kingdom) (search for this): chapter 17
e one of the few persons lucky enough to be born with eyes in your head,--that is, with something behind the eyes which makes them of value. To most people the seeing apparatus is as useless as the great telescope at the observatory is to me,--something to stare through with no intelligent result. Nothing could be better than the conception of your plot (so far as I divine it), and the painting — in of your figures. As for theology, it is as much a part of daily life in New England as in Scotland, and all I should have to say about it is this: let it crop out when it naturally comes to the surface, only don't dig down to it. A moral aim is a fine thing, but in making a story an artist is a traitor who does not sacrifice everything to art. Remember the lesson that Christ gave us twice over. First, he preferred the useless Mary to the dish-washing Martha, and next, when that exemplary moralist and friend of humanity, Judas, objected to the sinful waste of the Magdalen's ointment, th
Hanover, N. H. (New Hampshire, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
minister's Wooing and the Pearl of Orr's Island. Mr. Whittier's comments. Mr. Lowell on the minister's Wooing. letter to Mrs. Stowe from Mr. Lowell. John Ruskin on the minister's Wooing. a year of sadness. letter to Lady Byron. letter to her daughter. departure for europe. Immediately after Mrs. Stowe's return from England in June, 1857, a crushing sorrow came upon her in the death of her oldest son, Henry Ellis, who was drowned while bathing in the Connecticut River at Hanover, N. H., where he was pursuing his studies as a member of the Freshman class in Dartmouth College. This melancholy event transpired the 9th of July, 1857, and the 3d of August Mrs. Stowe wrote to the Duchess of Sutherland: Dear friend,--Before this reaches you you will have perhaps learned from other sources of the sad blow which has fallen upon us,--our darling, our good, beautiful boy, snatched away in the moment of health and happiness. Alas! could I know that when I parted from my Hen
Gethsemane (Tennessee, United States) (search for this): chapter 17
that my faith in God in the least fails, and that I do not believe that all this is for good. I do, and though not happy, I am blessed. Weak, weary as I am, I rest on Jesus in the innermost depth of my soul, and am quite sure that there is coming an inconceivable hour of beauty and glory when I shall regain Jesus, and he will give me back my beloved one, whom he is educating in a far higher sphere than I proposed. So do not mistake me,--only know that mamma is sitting weary by the wayside, feeling weak and worn, but in no sense discouraged. Your affectionate mother, H. B. S. So is it ever: when with bold step we press our way into the holy place where genius hath wrought, we find it to be a place of sorrows. Art has its Gethsemane and its Calvary as well as religion. Our best loved books and sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. The summer of 1859 found Mrs. Stowe again on her way to Europe, this time accompanied by all her children except the youngest.
Department de Ville de Paris (France) (search for this): chapter 17
Chapter 14: the minister's wooing, 1857-1859. Death of Mrs. Stowe's oldest son. letter to the Duchess of Sutherland. letter to her daughters in Paris. letter to her sister Catherine. visit to Brunswick and Orr's Island. writes the minister's Wooing and the Pearl of Orr's Island. Mr. Whittier's comments. Mr. Lowakes so many mothers so much deeper mourners than I ever can be. ... Affectionately yours, H. B. Stowe. About this same time she writes to her daughters in Paris: Can anybody tell what sorrows are locked up with our best affections, or what pain may be associated with every pleasure? As I walk the house, the picturesened with moral, had been hocussed with the bewildering hasheesh of Abolition. We had the advantage of reading that truly extraordinary book for the first time in Paris, long after the whirl of excitement produced by its publication had subsided, in the seclusion of distance, and with a judgment unbiased by those political sympat
Hannover (Lower Saxony, Germany) (search for this): chapter 17
nd deaf and dumb, have their promise. These hours come in answer to our prayers for nearness to God It is always our treasure that the lightning strikes .... I have poured out my heart to you because you can understand. While I was visiting in Hanover, where Henry died, a poor, deaf old slave woman, who has still five children in bondage, came to comfort me. Bear up, dear soul, she said; you must bear it, for the Lord loves ye. She said further, Sunday is a heavy day to me, 'cause I can't woour with groanings that could not be uttered. Your papa justly said, Every child that dies is for the time being an only one; yes — his individuality no time, no change, can ever replace. Two days after the funeral your father and I went to Hanover. We saw Henry's friends, and his room, which was just as it was the day he left it. There is not another such room in the college as his, said one of his classmates with tears. I could not help loving the dear boys as they would come and
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