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Rex (search for this): chapter 23
o was pleasant to see, their talk something to remember. Ah, Mrs. Howe, said the Autocrat, you at seventy have much to learn about life. At eighty you will find new vistas opening in every direction! Ten years later she was reminded of this. It is true! she said. At parting he kissed her, which touched her deeply. He was in another mood when they met at a reception shortly after this. Ah! Mrs. Howe, he said, you see I still hang on as one of the old wrecks! Yes, you are indeed Rex was the reply. Then, Madam, he cried with a flash, you are Regina! To return to the birthday Here are a few of the letters received:-- From George William Curtis West New Brighton, Staten Island, N. Y., May 9, 1889. My dear Mrs. Elliott, I shall still be too lame to venture so far away from home as your kind invitation tempts me to stray, but no words of my regard and admiration for Mrs. Howe will ever limp and linger. I doubt if among the hosts who will offer their homage upon h
E. E. Hale (search for this): chapter 23
er-and sons-in-law. I had many lovely gifts. The house was like a garden of costly flowers. Breakfast was at 12.30; was in very good style. Guests: General Walker, John S. Dwight, E. E. Hale, Mrs. Jack Gardner, Mmes. Bell, Pratt, and Agassiz. Walker made the first speech at the table, H. M. H. Henry Marion Howe. being toastmaster. Walker seemed to speak very feelingly, calling me the first citizeness of the country; stood silent a little and sat down. Dwight read a delightful poem; Hale left too soon to do anything. H. introduced J. S. D. thus: Sweetness and light, your name is Dwight. While we sat at table, baskets and bouquets of wonderful flowers kept constantly arriving; the sweet granddaughters brought them in, in a sort of procession lovely to see. It rained in the afternoon, but the house was thronged with visitors, all the same. A sober entry, written the next day, when she was very tired, with a delightful fatigue : but on the day itself she was gay, enjoying h
Oakley (search for this): chapter 23
ast illness; he holding her up in his arms. He said he was travelling to help his sorrow. At Reading my two whist gentlemen cried out, Tamales! and rushed out. They presently returned, bringing some curious Mexican eatables, corn meal with chicken and red peppers rolled in corn leaves. These folk all left at Sacramento at three in the morning. California was once more her goal. This second visit was brief and hurried. Hurry, scurry to dress for the Forefathers' Day celebration. Oakley was my squire. I was taken down to dinner by Professor Moore, President of the occasion. ... I was suddenly and unexpectedly called for, and all were requested to rise, which was a great honor done me. I spoke of two Congregationalists whom I had known, Antoinette Blackwell, of whose ordination I told; then of Theodore Parker, of whom I said, Nothing that I have heard here is more Christian than what I heard from him. I told of his first having brought into notice the hymn, Nearer, My God
G. Schirmer (search for this): chapter 23
oice and piano gave together: nobody who heard Flibbertigibbet ever forgot it. She set Mother Goose to music for the grandchildren; singing of Little Boy Blue, and the Man in the Moon. She thought these nursery melodies among her best compositions; from time to time, however, other and graver airs came to her, dreamed over the piano on summer evenings, or in twilight walks among the Newport meadows. Some of these airs were gathered and published in later years. Song Album. Published by G. Schirmer & Co. In May of this year she notes the closing of a life long associated with hers. May 24. Laura Bridgman died to-day at about 12 M. This event brings with it solemn suggestions, which my overcrowded brain cannot adequately follow. Her training was a beautiful out-blossoming from the romance of my husband's philanthropy. She has taught a great lesson in her time, and unfortunates of her sort are now trained, without question of the result. This was to S. G. H. an undiscovered
Mother Goose (search for this): chapter 23
arket-place, and playing a jig on his fiddle, set all the people dancing whether they would or no. She played the jig, and one did not wonder at the people. Next came Flibbertigibbet's march, which he played on his way to prison; his melancholy, as he sat in durance; the cats on the roof of his prison; finally, entrance of the benevolent fairy, who whisks him off in a balloon to fairyland. All these, voice and piano gave together: nobody who heard Flibbertigibbet ever forgot it. She set Mother Goose to music for the grandchildren; singing of Little Boy Blue, and the Man in the Moon. She thought these nursery melodies among her best compositions; from time to time, however, other and graver airs came to her, dreamed over the piano on summer evenings, or in twilight walks among the Newport meadows. Some of these airs were gathered and published in later years. Song Album. Published by G. Schirmer & Co. In May of this year she notes the closing of a life long associated with hers
Louise Chandler Moulton (search for this): chapter 23
nd make myself as long as I can, so that the robbers will think I am a grown — up person, and perhaps then they will not touch me! Then, she told us, I would stretch myself out at full length, and go to sleep. She was reading Martineau's Study of religion this summer with close attention and deep interest. His writings gave her unfailing delight. His portrait hung in her room; on her desk lay always a slender volume of his Prayers, her favorite passages marked in pencil. When Louise Chandler Moulton lay dying, the best comfort she could devise for her was the loan of this precious little volume. The Study of religion is not light reading. We find now and then: Head threatening. Will not tackle Martineau to-day ; and again: My head is possessed with my study of Martineau. Had a moment's realizing sense this morning of the universe as created and constantly re-created by the thought of the will of God. The phrase is common enough: the thought, vast beyond human conception.
Sarah Fairchild (search for this): chapter 23
e, head nodding, hands waving, as he denounced what seemed to him wanton cacophony. She avoided the Symphony Concerts at which the new music was exploited; but it was positive pain to her to miss a symphony of Beethoven or Schubert. In March of this year the Saturday Morning Club of Boston gave a performance of the Antigone of Sophocles. In afternoon to the second representation of the Antigone. . . . On the whole very pathetic and powerful. Mrs. Tilden full of dramatic fire; Sally Fairchild ideally beautiful in dress, attitude, and expression. The whole a high feast of beauty and of poetry. The male parts wonderfully illusive, especially that of Tiresias, the seer.... To Laura 241 Beacon Street, Boston, April 26, 1890. I'se very sorry for unhandsome neglect complained of in your last. What are we going to do about it? I have now and then made efforts to reclaim the old Party, but have long considered her incorrigible. What shall we say, then? Where sin doth abound
Henry Marion Howe (search for this): chapter 23
. Hale, Mrs. Jack Gardner, Mmes. Bell, Pratt, and Agassiz. Walker made the first speech at the table, H. M. H. Henry Marion Howe. being toastmaster. Walker seemed to speak very feelingly, calling me the first citizeness of the country; stood snitarians, uplifters of every description, held their meetings (traditionally in a pouring rain) and one and all wanted Mrs. Howe. I have said to God on every morning of these busy days: Give me this day, and He has given them all: i.e., He has g, and would not come back when she called him. At this instant Dr. Holmes, passing, paused for a friendly greeting. Mrs. Howe, he said, I trust this fine morning-- Catch the dog! cried Mrs. Howe. One author flew one way, one the other; betwMrs. Howe. One author flew one way, one the other; between the two Patch was caught and brought in triumph home. One dog story recalls another. She was in the North Station one day, about to start for Gardiner, as was also the setter Diana, crated and very unhappy. Here, Auntie! said the baggage
Antigone (search for this): chapter 23
cophony. She avoided the Symphony Concerts at which the new music was exploited; but it was positive pain to her to miss a symphony of Beethoven or Schubert. In March of this year the Saturday Morning Club of Boston gave a performance of the Antigone of Sophocles. In afternoon to the second representation of the Antigone. . . . On the whole very pathetic and powerful. Mrs. Tilden full of dramatic fire; Sally Fairchild ideally beautiful in dress, attitude, and expression. The whole a higAntigone. . . . On the whole very pathetic and powerful. Mrs. Tilden full of dramatic fire; Sally Fairchild ideally beautiful in dress, attitude, and expression. The whole a high feast of beauty and of poetry. The male parts wonderfully illusive, especially that of Tiresias, the seer.... To Laura 241 Beacon Street, Boston, April 26, 1890. I'se very sorry for unhandsome neglect complained of in your last. What are we going to do about it? I have now and then made efforts to reclaim the old Party, but have long considered her incorrigible. What shall we say, then? Where sin doth abound, Grace shall much more abound, or words to that effect, are recorded of one
Edward Everett Hale (search for this): chapter 23
sail on the 18th. Pray accept my thanks and regrets and make them acceptable to your children. Faithfully yours, James Russell Lowell. The Journal thus notes the occasion. My seventieth birthday. A very busy day for all of us.... My head was dressed at eleven. All my children were here, with daughter-and sons-in-law. I had many lovely gifts. The house was like a garden of costly flowers. Breakfast was at 12.30; was in very good style. Guests: General Walker, John S. Dwight, E. E. Hale, Mrs. Jack Gardner, Mmes. Bell, Pratt, and Agassiz. Walker made the first speech at the table, H. M. H. Henry Marion Howe. being toastmaster. Walker seemed to speak very feelingly, calling me the first citizeness of the country; stood silent a little and sat down. Dwight read a delightful poem; Hale left too soon to do anything. H. introduced J. S. D. thus: Sweetness and light, your name is Dwight. While we sat at table, baskets and bouquets of wonderful flowers kept constantly ar
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