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Edward Everett Hale (search for this): chapter 31
o Boston to read my poem for Old Home Week. Worse than this is my trouble about two poems sent me while in Boston, with original music, to be presented to the committee for Home Week, which I have entirely forgotten and neglected. To do this was far from my intention, but my old head fairly gave out in the confusion of the various occasions in which I was obliged to take an active part. She yielded to entreaty and stayed at home, and was rewarded by a most gratifying letter from Edward Everett Hale, telling me that Josiah Quincy read my poem with real feeling, and that it was warmly received. My prayer is answered. I have lived to see my dear girl again. ... I give thanks earnestly and heartily, but seem for a time paralyzed by her presence. With the early autumn came a great pleasure in a visit to the new Green Peace, the house which her son had built at Bedford Hills, New York. She was delighted with the house and garden; the Journal tells of all manner of pleasant gay
Marion Crawford (search for this): chapter 31
head growled a little at waking, but not badly. My voice seemed all right, but how about the matter of my sermon? Was it all worth while, and on Whitsunday too? I wore my white cashmere dress. Laura went with me to church. C. G. A. was there. As he led me to the pulpit, the congregation rose. The service was very congenial and calming to my anxiety. I read the sermon quite audibly from beginning to end. It was listened to with profound attention, if I may say so. May 20. ... Marion Crawford arrived soon after three for a little visit. He looks greatly improved in health since I last saw him. He must have passed through some crisis and come out conqueror. He has all his old charm .... She was lamenting the death of her cousin and childhood playfellow, Dr. Valentine Mott Francis, when a much greater affliction fell upon her in the death of her son-in-law, David Prescott Hall. This hurts me, she writes, like a physical pain. To Florence Oak Glen, July 3, 1907. My dea
John D. Long (search for this): chapter 31
here seemed to be no end to them. I scrawled some of them down as it was late and dark. Sanborn to dine — unexpected, but always welcome. January 12. Copied and completed my lines for the evening. Found a large assemblage of members and invited guests [of the Authors' Club]; a dais and chair prepared for me, Colonel Higginson standing on my right. Many presentations — Gilder and Clyde Fitch, Owen Wister, Norman Hapgood. Aldrich [T. B.] took me in to dinner and sat on my right, Hon. John D. Long on my left; next beyond A. sat Homans Womans. Mrs. Charles Homans. I despaired of making my jingle tell in so large and unfamiliar a company. At last I took courage and read it, bad as I thought it. To my surprise, it told, and created the merriment which had been my object so far as I had any. My Battle Hymn was sung finely by a male quartette. Colonel Higginson and I were praised almost out of our senses. A calendar, got up with much labor, was presented to each of us. Janua
d Tosti, the consul, on my left. Had some pleasant talk with each. Then I had a good inspiration for part of my speech, in which I mentioned the egg used by Columbus, and made to stand, to show that things held to be impossible often proved possible. I said that out of this egg was hatched the American Eagle. Madame Novelli shed tears at this, and Novelli kissed my hand. The Italian servants listened eagerly to all the speaking, and participated in the applause. President Geddes, Secretary Jocelyn, and others spoke well and rather briefly. Dear Padre Roberto was really eloquent. March 16.... In the evening to see Novelli in Morte Civile ; his personation wonderfully fine, surpassing even Salvini in the part.... March 17 .... Went to South Boston to say a word at the presentation of dear Michael's portrait to the Perkins Institution by the Howe Memorial Club. . . . Also had a wonderful fit of verse — wrote two sonnets to Dante and a versification of my conceit about the ha
Hippolytus (search for this): chapter 31
o made much fun together. Even when the patient could not speak, she could twinkle. As strength gradually returned, the ministrations of Wollapuk became positively scenes of revelry; and the anxious guardian below, warding off would-be interviewers or suppliants, might be embarrassed to hear peals of laughter ringing down the stair. Early in May she has young J. W. Hurlburt to dine; a pleasant young playwright, grandson to General Hurlburt of the Civil War.... I had lent my play of Hippolytus to young Hurlburt to read. He brought it back yesterday with so much praise of parts of it as to revive the pang which I felt when, Charlotte Cushman and Edwin Booth having promised to fill the principal parts, the manager's wife suddenly refused to fill her part, and the whole fell through. This with much other of my best literary work has remained a dead letter on my own shelves. I am glad as well as sad to feel that it deserved better treatment. She had a wheel-chair, and on pleas
Richard Coeur (search for this): chapter 31
the after-dinner reading was over, she would say, Now bring my opera-box! The white armchair was wheeled into the passage between the two parlors. Here she sat in state, while the great singers poured out their treasures before her, while violinist and pianist gave her their best. She listened with keen and critical enjoyment, recalling how Malibran gave this note, how Grisi and Mario sang that duet. Then she would go to the piano and play from memory airs from Tancredi, I1 Pirata, Richard Coeur de lion, and other operas known to us only through her. Or she would — always without notes — play the Barber of Seville almost from beginning to end, with fingers still deft and nimble. She loved the older operas best. After an air from Don Giovanni, she would say, Mozart must be in heaven: they could never get on without him! She thought Handel's Messiah the most divine point reached by earthly music. Beethoven awed and swayed her deeply, and she often quoted his utterance while
Owen Wister (search for this): chapter 31
wn to rest a perfect flood of rhymes seized me. Nonsense verses for to-morrow's festival; there seemed to be no end to them. I scrawled some of them down as it was late and dark. Sanborn to dine — unexpected, but always welcome. January 12. Copied and completed my lines for the evening. Found a large assemblage of members and invited guests [of the Authors' Club]; a dais and chair prepared for me, Colonel Higginson standing on my right. Many presentations — Gilder and Clyde Fitch, Owen Wister, Norman Hapgood. Aldrich [T. B.] took me in to dinner and sat on my right, Hon. John D. Long on my left; next beyond A. sat Homans Womans. Mrs. Charles Homans. I despaired of making my jingle tell in so large and unfamiliar a company. At last I took courage and read it, bad as I thought it. To my surprise, it told, and created the merriment which had been my object so far as I had any. My Battle Hymn was sung finely by a male quartette. Colonel Higginson and I were praised almost ou
got up with much labor, was presented to each of us. January 13. To church, to take down my vanity after last evening's laudations.... January 15. Made a final copy of my lines on Robert E. Lee,--read them to Rosalind — the last line drew a tear from each of us, so I concluded that it would do and sent it. To Tuesday Club, where the effort which I made to hear speakers tired my head badly. Themes: Whether and how to teach Ethics in public schools; also, The English Education bill. Socrates having been mentioned as an exemplar, I suddenly cried out that I thought he did wrong to stay and suffer by unjust laws and popular superstition. A first-class American would have got away and would have fought those people to the bitter death. This fiery little episode provoked laughter, and several privately told me they were glad of it. January 25.... Read Colonel Higginson's account of me in the Outlook. Wrote him a note of thanks, saying that he has written beautifully, with mu
elli on my right and Tosti, the consul, on my left. Had some pleasant talk with each. Then I had a good inspiration for part of my speech, in which I mentioned the egg used by Columbus, and made to stand, to show that things held to be impossible often proved possible. I said that out of this egg was hatched the American Eagle. Madame Novelli shed tears at this, and Novelli kissed my hand. The Italian servants listened eagerly to all the speaking, and participated in the applause. President Geddes, Secretary Jocelyn, and others spoke well and rather briefly. Dear Padre Roberto was really eloquent. March 16.... In the evening to see Novelli in Morte Civile ; his personation wonderfully fine, surpassing even Salvini in the part.... March 17 .... Went to South Boston to say a word at the presentation of dear Michael's portrait to the Perkins Institution by the Howe Memorial Club. . . . Also had a wonderful fit of verse — wrote two sonnets to Dante and a versification of my co
Robert E. Lee (search for this): chapter 31
unfamiliar a company. At last I took courage and read it, bad as I thought it. To my surprise, it told, and created the merriment which had been my object so far as I had any. My Battle Hymn was sung finely by a male quartette. Colonel Higginson and I were praised almost out of our senses. A calendar, got up with much labor, was presented to each of us. January 13. To church, to take down my vanity after last evening's laudations.... January 15. Made a final copy of my lines on Robert E. Lee,--read them to Rosalind — the last line drew a tear from each of us, so I concluded that it would do and sent it. To Tuesday Club, where the effort which I made to hear speakers tired my head badly. Themes: Whether and how to teach Ethics in public schools; also, The English Education bill. Socrates having been mentioned as an exemplar, I suddenly cried out that I thought he did wrong to stay and suffer by unjust laws and popular superstition. A first-class American would have got
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