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it while she reads aloud Freeman's shorter work on Sicily. I enjoy this. ... I have just read Froude's Ceesar, which Sanborn says he hates, but which I found as readable as a novel. Am also reading a work of Kuno Fischer on Philosophy, especially relating to Descartes. Now you know, Miss, or should know, that same had great fame, and sometimes blame, as a philosopher. But he don't make no impression on my mind. I never doubted that I was, so don't need no cogito, ergo sum, which is what Carty, old Boy, amounts to. Your letter, dear, was a very proper attention under the circumstances. Should n't object to another. Lemme see! objects cannot be subjects, nor vice versa. How do you know that you washed your face this morning? You don't know it, and I don't believe that you did. You might consult H. Richards about some of these particulars. He is a man of some sense. You are, bless you, not much wiser than your affectionate Ma. Returned to Oak Glen, after the celebration,
Frank B. Sanborn (search for this): chapter 32
Lying down to rest this afternoon, instead of sleep, of which I felt no need, I began to try for some new lines which should waken it up a little, and think that I succeeded. I had brought no manuscript paper, so had to scrawl my amendments on Sanborn's old long envelope. Later in the day two more lines came to her, and again two the day after. Finally, on the morning of the day itself, on awakening, she cried out,-- I have got my last verse! The occasion was a notable one. The sta28. Worked hard at it. Guess it's only pretty good, if even that. Maud takes me out every day under the pine tree, makes me sit while she reads aloud Freeman's shorter work on Sicily. I enjoy this. ... I have just read Froude's Ceesar, which Sanborn says he hates, but which I found as readable as a novel. Am also reading a work of Kuno Fischer on Philosophy, especially relating to Descartes. Now you know, Miss, or should know, that same had great fame, and sometimes blame, as a philosophe
re there, she would play accompaniments from the Messiah or Elijah ; rippling through the difficult music, transposing it, if necessary to suit the singer's voice, with ease and accuracy. Musicians said that she was the ideal accompanist, never asserting herself, but giving perfect sympathy and support to the singer. We return to the Journal. January, 1908. I had prayed the dear Father to give me this one more poem, a verse for this year's Decoration Day, asked for by Amos Wells, of Christian Endeavor belonging. I took my pen and the poem came quite spontaneously. It seemed an answer to my prayer, but I hold fast the thought that the great Christ asked no sign from God and needed none, so deeply did he enter into life divine. I also thought, regarding Christ and Moses, that we must be content that a certain mystery should envelop these heroic figures of human history. Our small measuring tape or rod is not for them. If they were not exactly in fact what we take them to be
W. J. Locke (search for this): chapter 32
t. Quite suddenly, very recently, it occurred to me to consider that Christ understood that spiritual life would not end with death, and that His expressed certainty as to the future life was founded upon His discernment of spiritual things. So, in so far as I am a Christian, I must believe in the immortality of the soul, as our Master surely did. I cannot understand why I have not thought of that before. I think now that I shall nevermore lose sight of it.... Had a very fine call from Mr. Locke, author of the Beloved Vagabond, a book which I have enjoyed. December 5.... I learned to-day that my dear friend of many years [the Reverend Mary H. Graves] passed away last night very peacefully.... This is a heart sorrow for me. She has been a most faithful, affectionate and helpful friend. I scarcely know whether any one, outside of my family, would have pained me more by their departure.... This was indeed a loss. Saint Mouse, as we called her, was a familiar friend of the hou
ed Land. How much is this to be'thankful for! My crabbed hand shows how Time abridges my working powers, but I march to the brave music still, as you and many of the juniors do. Wishing that I might sometimes see you, believe me Yours with affectionate regard, Julia Ward Howe. Close upon the Birthday came another occasion of the kind which we — in these later years — at once welcomed and deplored. She enjoyed nothing so much as a function, and nothing tired her so much. On June 16, Brown University, her husband's alma mater and her grandfather's, conferred upon her the degree of Doctor of Laws. She went to Providence to receive it in person, and thus describes the commencement exercises to Mrs. Mitchell:-- The ordeal of the Doctorate was rather trying, but was made as easy as possible for me. The venerable old church was well filled, and was quite beautiful. I sat in one of the front pews--two learned people led me to the foot of the platform from which Presiden
November 3rd (search for this): chapter 32
ences which he has attended. We reached Green Peace in time for Mr. Frank Potter to sing about half of my songs. He has a fine tenor voice, well cultivated, and is very kind about my small compositions. I had not counted upon this pleasure. I dreaded this visit, for the troublesome journey, but it has been delightful. I am charmed to see my son so handsomely and comfortably established, and with a very devoted wife. Potter brought me some flowers and a curious orchid from Panama. November 3. Oak Glen. Yesterday and to-day have had most exquisite sittings in front of my house in the warm sunshine; very closely wrapped up by the dear care of my daughters. These sittings were on what she called her boulevard, a grassy space in front of the house, bordering on the road, and taking the full strength of the morning sun. Here, with the tall screen of cedars behind her, and a nut tree spreading its golden canopy over her head, she would sit for hours, drinking in the sweet air th
nce for us. I was presently conducted to my seat on the platform. The hall was crammed to its utmost capacity. I had felt doubts of the power of my voice to reach so large a company, but strength seemed to be given to me at once, and I believe that I was heard very well. T. W. H. [Colonel Higginson] came to me soon after my reading and said, You have been a good girl and behaved yourself well. The next task was an essay on Immortality, which cost her much labor and anxious thought. March 3. ... Got at last some solid ground for my screed on Immortality. Our experience of the goodness of God in our daily life assures us of His mercy hereafter, and seeing God everywhere, we shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. March 27. I am succeeding better with my Immortality paper. Had to-day a little bit of visioning with which I think that I would willingly depart, when my time comes. The dreadful fear of being buried alive disappeared for a time, and I saw only the goodne
November 6th (search for this): chapter 32
ces of nature Angels to help and minister to me? Let me, instead, take hold of the guiding cords of life with resolute hands and press onward, following the illustrious army whose crowned chiefs have gone before. They too had their weakness, their sorrow, their sin. But they are set as stars in the firmament of God, and their torches flash heavenly light upon our doubtful way, ay, even upon the mysterious bridge whose toll is silence. Beyond that silence reigns the perfect harmony. November 6. Expecting to leave this dear place to-morrow before noon, I write one last record in this diary to say that I am very thankful for the season just at end, which has been busy and yet restful. I have seen old friends and new ones, all with pleasure, and mostly with profit of a social and spiritual kind. I have seen dear little Eleanor Hall, the sweetest of babies. Have had all of my dear children with me, some of my grandchildren, and four of my greatgrands. Our Papeterie has had ple
September 21st (search for this): chapter 32
pains with it, but think she overpraises it a little to raise my spirits. The gift she would choose was a more vigilant national conscience. The little essay counts but seventy lines, but every word tells. In early September she performed a very small public service, unveiling in Newport a bronze tablet in honor of Count de Rochambeau. She would have been glad to speak, but an anxious daughter had demurred, and at the moment she only thought of pulling the string the right way. September 21. Green Peace, New York. A delightful drive with Mr. Seth Low in his auto. A good talk with him about the multi-millionnaires and the Hague Conferences which he has attended. We reached Green Peace in time for Mr. Frank Potter to sing about half of my songs. He has a fine tenor voice, well cultivated, and is very kind about my small compositions. I had not counted upon this pleasure. I dreaded this visit, for the troublesome journey, but it has been delightful. I am charmed to see m
January, 1908 AD (search for this): chapter 32
itting at the piano with Florence, playing, Galatea, dry thy tears! Handel's old tie-wig music, as she called his operas. Or, if her son were there, she would play accompaniments from the Messiah or Elijah ; rippling through the difficult music, transposing it, if necessary to suit the singer's voice, with ease and accuracy. Musicians said that she was the ideal accompanist, never asserting herself, but giving perfect sympathy and support to the singer. We return to the Journal. January, 1908. I had prayed the dear Father to give me this one more poem, a verse for this year's Decoration Day, asked for by Amos Wells, of Christian Endeavor belonging. I took my pen and the poem came quite spontaneously. It seemed an answer to my prayer, but I hold fast the thought that the great Christ asked no sign from God and needed none, so deeply did he enter into life divine. I also thought, regarding Christ and Moses, that we must be content that a certain mystery should envelop these
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