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Versailles (Kentucky, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
extinguishable in my Ante, 1.29, 78. father. It pleased him, as it does many a man, more than any other beautiful thing in nature. His aesthetic sense in general was uncultivated, but it would have repaid cultivating. He had a great fondness for pictures, with but little artistic discrimination, his modest purchases being often dictated by pure sentiment. His visit to the Louvre gave him pleasure, in spite of much that seemed to him rubbish, while the acres of gory battle canvases at Versailles offended his moral sensibilities. He took real delight and lingered long in the art section of the Paris Exposition of 1867, of which he especially enjoyed the Ante, p. 191. statuary where the intent was chaste. It fell to his lot to befriend artists among other struggling and impecunious fellow-beings, and his charity to them was undoubtedly reinforced by his love of art. To music he was attuned from infancy, and he never Ante, 1.29, 30. ceased to sing. He had a correct ear, and h
Massachusetts (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
no other precept, he wrote in the Liberator (16: 18), if I leave them no other example, it shall be a fearless, impartial, thorough investigation of every subject to which their attention may be called, whether those principles agree or conflict with my own, or with those of any other person. but almost rated it a moral delinquency that his sons, one and all, eschewed the razor. Here may belong an anecdote related to me by Oliver Johnson. A good abolitionist in the rural districts of Massachusetts, who went down to Boston to annual meetings and conventions, was filled with a great admiration for Charles Burleigh, concerning whom he carried back glowing reports to his family. In the fulness of time he arranged a lecture in his own town for Burleigh, and was sorely troubled when the one stage arrival brought not the expected guest. An hour after, a knock was heard at the door, and the curious children scrambled pell-mell to answer it. There stood a tall figure with long beard and
Rockledge (Texas, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
d eye to symmetry, squareness, and general effect. He helped in everything. The town boy was quickly absorbed in the citizen, and my father, once a Bostonian, never coveted a return to rural life, though he enjoyed his suburban residence at Rockledge. Revisiting Brooklyn, Conn., in the summer of 1854, after an absence of fourteen years, he wrote to his Aunt Newell of the fine landscape, but added: I could not long, however, be contented with the quietude of the country, unless I had withdr of praising the scene before him. He had neither a scientific nor, strictly speaking, a poetic love of nature. He had no botanical knowledge whatever, and small cognizance of the varieties of trees or flowers. The elm-tree near the gate at Rockledge was planted by W. L. G. and his son Frank in May, 1868. A solitary walk in the country could hardly have been congenial to him, at least as an habitual diversion. Though as a walker not easily fatigued, he is not to be described as a Cf. ante
Rockledge (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
and that is a great deal better, —which being reported by the little girl to her inquirers, Oh yes! they cried, you are the daughter of an infidel. The childish age had a peculiar fascination for my Ante, 2.115, 118. father, who often told his wife that if there was one thing he was fitted for, it was to tend babies. I found several babies at Longwood, he wrote to her in 1870, and so Ms. June 6. have not been wholly disconsolate on account of the absence of the dear little ones at Rockledge and Linwood Street. I can stand being a grandfather to an indefinite extent, Ms. Mar. 5, 1867, to F. J. G. he wrote after he had become one. Instead of feeling older, I shall feel all the younger for it. Other people's infants, like his own, came to him without fear and of their own motion. Seldom indeed was it that a sick, tired, or fractious child, once held in his strong and sympathetic embrace, did not become soothed and yield to his singing of Olmutz or the Portuguese Hymn. Once
Newburyport (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
nbidden to the family (and was therefore distrusted as not having been bred from kittenhood), who used to mount my father's shoulders while carving at table. My father did not quite share a cat's local attachments. For his birthplace—meaning Newburyport and not the little Ante, 1.467. house on School Street — for Boston, he had a deep and Ante, 1.79; 2.407. undying attachment; towards this or that house of the many which successively became his home, he evinced no Ante, 2.51. special sentigood. He could easily sway an audience Ante, 3.19. in the right mood. Of my father's beauty in youth and early manhood I Ante, 1.55, 56. cannot doubt, and I may be permitted to repeat here the description of him by an artist companion in Newburyport, the late Thomas B. Lawson, already cited: His Ante, 1: XV. hair a rich dark brown; his forehead high and very white; his cheeks decidedly roseate; his lips full, sensitive, and ruddy; his eyes intent—wide open, of a yellowish hazel; with fin<
Lowell (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
t feeling that others, who did not know him so well, may think the picture too highly colored—which it would be impossible for me to make it, or, as I think, any other man, in respect of the qualities of which I speak Ms. July 5, 1888, to F. J. G.: Mr. Garrison's presence in the printing-office was like sunshine in a shady place. The art preservative of all the arts is not commonly attended by many of the aesthetic graces, and the Liberator office was no exception to the general rule. Lowell's description of it in his early days as dark, Ante, 1.245. unfurnitured, and mean fitly characterized it until its removal to the Washington Building [on Washington, opposite Franklin Street], in 1860, when, for the first time, even the cheap luxury of gas was enjoyed. But the poor and dingy surroundings were little heeded by those who served under its editor, who, from the master-workman to the office-boy, felt e'en drudgery divine in such service, and daily labor became a daily deligh
Hartford (Connecticut, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
teeth, rather larger than the average, and a complexion more fair, more silvery white, than I ever saw upon a man. Baldness set in early; and as my father always shaved, he presented a uniform appearance throughout his adult life. His complexion always retained traces of the red that originally adorned it, and which is said to have been heightened by his blushing when spoken to. The R. Purvis to W. P. G., Feb., 1881. remnant of his hair was slow to gray. Mary Grew, who saw him first in Hartford in 1830, found him to tally with a friend's description of him as a young man with a very black beard, which he shaved very close, giving the lower part of his face a bluish appearance. When let grow, however, his beard, with a parental reminiscence, was of Ante, 1.13. a sandy or light brown color; and I think my father liked it none the better for that. A man of singularly few prejudices, he never freed himself from the public opinion in which he grew up as regards beards, which were,
Accomack (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
nears the goal, in that proportion does praise and panegyric fall to the lot of him who may have suffered somewhat in the course of the struggle. The praise on the one hand and the defamation on the other are both unmerited; and in the sober judgment of a distant posterity, if the thing . . . (here the fragment breaks off). Ante, p. 39. Some disinterested testimony is here admissible. Quincy, humorously describing in the N. Y. Tribune the abolition celebration of Forefathers' Day at Plymouth, Dec. 21, 1856, wrote thus of my father: His expression is rather mild than otherwise, until he Lib. 27.2. kindles with his subject, when one can detect the fire which has had such incendiary results. His head, which is very bald, is what I suppose phrenologists would call a full one, and his eye is remarkably good. Indeed, if one could divest one's self of the associations connected with his name, he would pass for a very well-looking man, indeed. . . . His style of speaking is earn
Eldorado (Mississippi, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
using violence and seldom force with tolerably unruly subjects. He played with us either romping games when small, or games of skill when older. He could not assist us much in our studies, but encouraged us in competitions in penmanship, he being the umpire. Rarely he read aloud to us, but he frequently recited favorite verses, like Derzhavin's Ode to the Deity, in Bowring's translation, Byron's apostrophe to the Ocean in Childe Harold, Cowper's I would not have a slave, or Campbell's Hohenlinden—with stock repetitions of My name is Norval; or sang (with dance accompaniment) Of all the little boys [girls] I know, There is none like my——y. At table, his hands prepared the food for us, and later for his grandchildren—our mother's broken arm excusing Ante, 3.84. her; and when urged by her to satisfy his own hunger, he would protest: I must scratch gravel for my little chickens first. When we were sick, he provided the invalid meal, with the instinct and tenderness of a nurse.
Northampton (Massachusetts, United States) (search for this): chapter 12
displayed itself both on and off the public stage. These scattered threads I will now draw together in such fashion as I can. The lineaments of the boy were, as ordinarily happens, partly preserved and partly effaced in the man. My father's childish love of out-door sports naturally Ante, 1.28, 314. succumbed to the stern requirements of his twofold struggle for existence and for the cause which he founded. I recall his indulging in quoits while at the water-cure near Ante, 3.228. Northampton, a game in which he was fairly skilful, as if by virtue of that balanced judgment which showed itself in so many other ways; and in later years he was fond of croquet. His love of skating utterly died out from Ante, 1.28. disuse, but, what is perhaps surprising, his passion for swimming equally became a mere reminiscence, though his Ante, 1.28, 29. home was always by tide-water. Among indoor games, he enjoyed checkers as long as his children were interested in it; and to us he seemed
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