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Hugh Birckhead (search for this): chapter 32
o tenderly that it was yielded gladly, young and old alike feeling themselves understood. Among the visitors of this summer none was more welcome than her great-grandson, Christopher Birckhead, Son of Caroline Minturn (Hall) and the Reverend Hugh Birckhead. then an infant in arms. She loved to hold and watch the child, brooding over him with grave tenderness: it was a beautiful and gracious picture of Past and Future. Maud had just written a book on Sicily, and, as always, our mother or unprepossessing in appearance, and never grudged the moments spent in adjusting the right cap and lace collar. There was an almost unearthly light in her face, a transparency and sweetness that spoke to others more plainly than to us: Hugh Birckhead saw and recognized it as a look he had seen in other faces of saintly age, as their translation approached. But we said joyously to her and to each other, She will round out the century; we shall all keep the Hundredth Birthday together And
Theodore Roosevelt (search for this): chapter 32
tariff reform. Proposed a small group to study the question from the point of view of the consumer. What to protect and how? American goods cheaper in Europe than here. Blank tells me of pencils made here for a foreign market and sold in Germany and England at a price impossible here. I said that the real bottomless pit is the depth of infamous slander with which people will assail our public servants, especially when they are faithful and incorruptible, apropos of aspersions cast on Roosevelt and Taft. Mrs. Ward read a very violent attack upon some public man of a hundred or more years ago. He was quoted as a monster of tyranny and injustice. His name was George Washington. April 8.... My prayer for this Easter is that I may not waste the inspiration of spring.... In these days came another real sorrow to her. April 10. To-day brings the sad news of Marion Crawford's death at Sorrento. His departure seems to have been a peaceful one. He comforted his family and ha
able service to their fellow men and women. I would have them feel that, whether rich or poor, they are bound to be of use in their day and generation, and to be mindful of the Scripture saying that no man liveth unto himself. We all have our part to do in keeping up the character and credit of our country. For her sake we should study to become good and useful citizens. In the summer of 1909 the Cretan question came up again. Once more Turkey attempted to regain active possession of Crete; once more the voice of Christendom was raised in protest. She had no thought this time of being too old. Being called upon for help, she wrote at once to President Taft, praying him to find some way to help the Cretans in the terrible prospect of their being delivered over, bound hand and foot, to Turkish misrule. She was soon gladdened by a reply from the President, saying that he had not considered the Cretans as he should, but promising to send her letter to the Secretary of State. I
Thomas Crawford (search for this): chapter 32
er Eleanor read Plato's Dialogues to him. Was unconscious at the last. Poor dear Marion! The end, in his case, comes early. His father was, I think, in the early forties when he died of a cancer behind the eye which caused blindness. He, Thomas Crawford, had a long and very distressing illness. Crawford had been very dear to her, ever since the days when, a radiant schoolboy, he came and went in his vacations. There was a complete sympathy and understanding between them, and there were Crawford had been very dear to her, ever since the days when, a radiant schoolboy, he came and went in his vacations. There was a complete sympathy and understanding between them, and there were few people whom she enjoyed more. I wrote a letter to be read, if approved, to-morrow evening at the Faneuil Hall meeting held to advocate the revision of our extradition treaty with the Russian Government, which at present seems to allow that government too much latitude of incrimination, whereby political and civil offences can too easily be confused and a revolutionist surrendered as a criminal, which he may or may not be. Later in the month she writes:-- In the early morning I bega
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 my son so handsomely and comfortably established, and with a v
a very violent attack upon some public man of a hundred or more years ago. He was quoted as a monster of tyranny and injustice. His name was George Washington. April 8.... My prayer for this Easter is that I may not waste the inspiration of spring.... In these days came another real sorrow to her. April 10. To-day brings the sad news of Marion Crawford's death at Sorrento. His departure seems to have been a peaceful one. He comforted his family and had his daughter Eleanor read Plato's Dialogues to him. Was unconscious at the last. Poor dear Marion! The end, in his case, comes early. His father was, I think, in the early forties when he died of a cancer behind the eye which caused blindness. He, Thomas Crawford, had a long and very distressing illness. Crawford had been very dear to her, ever since the days when, a radiant schoolboy, he came and went in his vacations. There was a complete sympathy and understanding between them, and there were few people whom she
sorbed and reverent interest. These are Boston memories, but those of Oak Glen are no less tender and vivid. There, too, the meals were festivals, the midday dinner being now the chief one, with its following hour on the piazza; Grandmother in her hooded chair, with her cross-stitch embroidery or hooked rug, daughters and grandchildren gathered round her. Horace and Xenophon were on the little table beside her, but they must wait till she had mixed and enjoyed her social salad. At Oak Glen, too, she had her novel and her whist, bezique or dominoes, as the family was larger or smaller. She never stooped to solitaire; a game must be an affair of companionship, of the social tie in defence of which Broa Sam, in his youth, had professed himself ready to die. Instead of the Victor concert, she now made music herself, playing fourhand pieces with Florence, the music daughter, trained in childhood by Otto Dresel. This was another great pleasure. (Did any one, we wonder, ever enjoy
Battle Hymn (search for this): chapter 32
nvited to do so. August 28. Wrote an immediate reply to a Mrs.--, who had written to ask leave to use a part of my Battle Hymn with some verses of her own. I replied, refusing this permission, but saying that she should rewrite her own part sufficiently to leave mine out, and should not call it the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The metre and tune, of course, she might use, as they are not mine in any special sense, but my phrases not. After writing an article for the Delineator, on Whatnded me my diploma, while some third party placed a picturesque hood upon my shoulders. The band played the air of my Battle Hymn, and applause followed me as I went back to my seat. So there! Her companion on that occasion writes:-- She sing to an afternoon tea at a musical house, where, after listening to Schumann Romances and Chopin waltzes, and to the Battle Hymn on the 'cello, she was moved to give a performance of Flibbertigibbet. This occasion reminded her happily of her fath
R. E. Peary (search for this): chapter 32
tones; the applause that rang out showed that she had once more touched the heart of the public. This poem was printed in Collier's Weekly, unfortunately from a copy made before the last verse was finished to her mind. This distressed her. Let this be. A lesson! she said. Never print a poem or speech till it has been delivered; always give the eleventh hour its chance! This eleventh hour brought a very special chance; a few days before, the world had been electrified by the news of Peary's discovery of the North Pole: it was the general voice that cried through her lips,-- The Flag of Freedom crowns the Pole! The following letter was written while she was at work on the poem:-- To Laura Oak Glen, July 9, 1909. Why, yes, I'm doing the best I know how. Have written a poem for the Hudson and Fulton celebration, September 28. 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 a
Ellen Mitchell (search for this): chapter 32
een able to meet you in all that time. You [were] one of the Board of Trustees at that time. Respectfully and Thankfully, Wm. Davidson. I was then about five years old, now seventy-three. Writing to her friend of many years, Mrs. Ellen Mitchell, she says:-- Your birthday letter was and is much valued by me. Its tone of earnest affection is an element in the new inspiration recently given me by such a wonderful testimony of public and private esteem and goodwill as has been grad 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 pla
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