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the illiterate vote — proposed a census of comparative illiteracy of the sexes in Massachusetts at least. We had long besought her to have her musical compositions written down, and now this was done in part. Once or twice a week Mr. John M. Loud came to the house and took down her melodies, she singing and playing them to him. She always enjoyed the hour with the young composer. A number of the melodies thus preserved were published in a Song Album by G. Schirmer some months later. April 8. Great trouble of mind about attending the Peace Convention in New York, which I have promised to do. Laura dead against it, reinforced by Wesselhoeft, Sr., who pronounces it dangerous for me. I at last wrote to ask my dear minister about it. April 9.... A violent snowstorm keeps me at home. Minister and wife write, Don't go to Peace Convention. I asked God in my prayer this morning to make going possible or impossible for me. I took C. G. A.'s letter as making it impossible, as I had
April 13th (search for this): chapter 31
passed before she began to regain strength and spirits.1 March 31. Had a happy lighting up when I lay down for afternoon rest. Felt the immensity of God's goodness and took heart for the future. In April she records a delightful visit from Robert Collyer, accompanied by Annie Fields. I asked him: Robert, what is religion? He replied, To love God with all one's heart, Christ helping us. He began his prayer last Sunday thus: Our Father who art in heaven, on earth, and in hell! On April 13, she was out for the first time since February 14, when I returned sick from Baltimore ... . Another week and she was at her church, for the first time since January 18. It had been a long and weary time, yet one remembers not so much the suffering and confinement as the gayety of it. There was a sigh for the Journal, but for the family, and the faithful nurse,-- Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles. This nurse was known to others as Lucy Vosh
November 28th (search for this): chapter 31
y. Found T. W. Higginson's little volume of verses, presented to me on my seventieth birthday, and read a good deal in it. When the Colonel gave it to me, he read a little poem, Sixty and Six, very charmingly. Seems to me that I ought to have read this little book through long before this time. One of the sweetest poems in it is about the blue-eyed baby that they lost after some six weeks happy possession. I sent a pretty little baby wreath for it, feeling very sorry for them both. November 28. Much troubled about my Whittier poem. December 3. Thanks be to God! I have written my Whittier rhyme. It has cost me much labor, for I have felt that I could not treat a memory so reverend with cheap and easy verses. I have tried to take his measure, and to present a picture of him which shall deserve to live. This poem appears in At Sunset. Mr. and Mrs. Cobden-Sanderson, the English suffragists, were in Boston this winter. They dined with her, and proved very agreeable. M
pal 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 pleasant days it was her delight to be wheeled through the Public Garden, now in full May beauty, to see the flowers and the children. She was able to attend several meetings, and to write several papers. May 18. Have read part of the recital of Anna Ticknor's achievement in her society to encourage studies at home. Her work is really heroic. I wish that I had better understood it. Still I did admire it a great deal, but had little idea of the great benevolence and sympathy developed in her work, which was a godsend to thousands of women. May 26. My dear son arrived in the evening to celebrate my birthday. He seems well and happy. I was thankful to see him. Flowers kept arriving all day.
yet dreaded. My 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
August 31st (search for this): chapter 31
ire devotion and disinterest and has enriched by his great and constant efforts. He built three Kindergartens for the blind. God rest his soul! I pray that my great pain at the death of my son-in-law may inspire me to help the blind as I never have helped them! My strength has failed so much of late that my strong love of life begins to waver. I should be glad to live to print some of my studies in Philosophy, and to have some of my musical compositions taken down by dictation. August 31.... The last day of a summer which brought a serious grief in the death of Michael Anagnos, who, ever since my visit to Greece in 1867, has been an important factor in my life. I am much troubled in the effort to compose a poem to be read at the memorial services to be held for him in late October.... A photograph taken at this time shows her sitting in her hooded chair on the piazza, her Greek books and her canary beside her, a serene and lovely picture. It was so she used to sit eve
December 3rd (search for this): chapter 31
resented to me on my seventieth birthday, and read a good deal in it. When the Colonel gave it to me, he read a little poem, Sixty and Six, very charmingly. Seems to me that I ought to have read this little book through long before this time. One of the sweetest poems in it is about the blue-eyed baby that they lost after some six weeks happy possession. I sent a pretty little baby wreath for it, feeling very sorry for them both. November 28. Much troubled about my Whittier poem. December 3. Thanks be to God! I have written my Whittier rhyme. It has cost me much labor, for I have felt that I could not treat a memory so reverend with cheap and easy verses. I have tried to take his measure, and to present a picture of him which shall deserve to live. This poem appears in At Sunset. Mr. and Mrs. Cobden-Sanderson, the English suffragists, were in Boston this winter. They dined with her, and proved very agreeable. Mrs. Sanderson's visit ought to help suffrage mightily,
December 17th (search for this): chapter 31
en devotedly kind to me. They made me occupy their room, much to my bodily comfort, but to the great disquiet of my mind, as I hated much to inconvenience them. My son has now a very eminent position.... God bless the house and all in it. December 17. The Old South Chapter of D. A.R.'s, met in the real Old South Church; there was much good speaking. I recited my Battle Hymn and boasted my descent from General Marion, the Swamp Fox, saying also, When, eluding the vigilance of children and flew home for his violin, Schelling sat down at the piano, and the two played Bach for her and to her delight. The occasion was memorable she says. Returning from New York, she was able to attend the Whittier Centennial at Haverhill. December 17.... Sanborn came to take me.... I have been praying to be well for this occasion, my last public engagement for some weeks. I am thankful to have been able, at my advanced age, to read this poem at the Whittier Celebration and to be assured b
September 12th (search for this): chapter 31
ing 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 gayeties. September 12. Fannie had a luncheon party even pleasanter than yesterday's. Rev. Mr. Luquer is a grandson of Dominick Lynch, who used to come to my father's house in my childhood and break my heart by singing Lord Ullin's Daughter. I remember creeping under the piano once to hide my tears. He sang all the Moore melodies with great expression.... This, his descendant, looks a good deal like him. Was bred a lawyer. My good Uncle Cutler twice asked him whether he would study for the ministry. He said
January 18th (search for this): chapter 31
took heart for the future. In April she records a delightful visit from Robert Collyer, accompanied by Annie Fields. I asked him: Robert, what is religion? He replied, To love God with all one's heart, Christ helping us. He began his prayer last Sunday thus: Our Father who art in heaven, on earth, and in hell! On April 13, she was out for the first time since February 14, when I returned sick from Baltimore ... . Another week and she was at her church, for the first time since January 18. It had been a long and weary time, yet one remembers not so much the suffering and confinement as the gayety of it. There was a sigh for the Journal, but for the family, and the faithful nurse,-- Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles. This nurse was known to others as Lucy Voshell, but her patient promptly named her Wollapuk. 1 It may be noted that this epidemic of tonsillitis was actually fatal to Miss Susan B. Anthony, who never recovered f
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