[N.B. The terrified hackman, picking himself up, found her already on her feet.
"Oh! Mrs. Howe," he cried, "let me help you into the house!"
"Nonsense!" was the reply. "I have just time to catch my train!"]
_To Maud_
241 BEACON STREET, February 24, 1895.
I lost a good lecture engagement at Poughkeepsie through a blizzard. Did not start, finding that roads were badly blocked. My engagement at Brooklyn was a good one--a hundred dollars. I stayed at Chanler house, which was Chanleresque as usual. Peter Marie gave me a fine dinner.
Margaret went with me, in white satin. I wore my black and white which you remember well. It still looks well enough. I wore some beautiful lace which I got, through dear sister Annie, from some distressed lace woman in England. I went to New York by a _five_-hour train, G.o.dkin of the "Nation" taking care of me. He remembers your kind attentions to him when you met him in the Pullman with a broken ankle.
"_March 30...._ I awoke very early this morning, with a head so confused that I thought my brain had given out, at least from the recent overstrain.... Twice I knelt and prayed that G.o.d would give me the use of my mind. An hour in sleep did something towards this and a good cup of tea put me quite on my feet...."
"_April 8._ In the late afternoon Harry, my son, came, and after some little preparation told me of the death of my dear sister Annie. I have been toiling and moiling to keep the engagements of this week, but here comes the great silence, and I must keep it for some days at least...."
"_April 10...._ It suddenly occurred to me that this might be the hour, as this would surely be the day of dear Annie"s funeral. So I found the 90th Psalm and the chapter in Corinthians, and sat and read them before her picture, remembering also Tennyson"s lines:--
""And _Ave_, _Ave_, _Ave_ said Adieu, adieu, forever more.""
_To Laura_
241 BEACON STREET, April 14, 1895.
BUONA PASQUA, DEAR CHILD!--
... I feel thankful that my darling died in her own home, apparently without suffering, and in the bosom of her beloved family. She has lived out her sweet life, and while the loss to all who loved her is great, we must be willing to commit our dear ones to G.o.d, as we commit ourselves.
The chill of age, no doubt, prevents my feeling as I should once have done, and the feeling that she has only pa.s.sed in a little before me, lessens the sense of separation.
12.25. I have been to our Easter service, which I found very comforting and elevating, though it brought some tears, of which I have not shed many, being now past the age at which they flow freely. I thought a good deal of the desolate Easter at the ranch. For them, too, let us hope that the blessed season has brought comforting thoughts.... I went too to a Good Friday service at the new Old South, at which Dr. Donald of Trinity, Cuckson of Arlington [Unitarian] and Gordon, orthodox [Congregational], each took part. It was such an earnest, a reconciled and unified Christendom as I am thankful to have lived to see.
Love and blessings to you and yours, dear child.
Affect., MOTHER.
"_May 20._.Have writ a brief letter to Mary G. Hennessey, Dixon, Illinois. She intends to speak of me in her graduation address and wanted me to send her "a vivid history of my life," with my "ideas of literary work." I declined the first, but sent a bit under the last head."
"_May 27._... Suffrage meeting in the evening. I presided and began with, "Sixty years ago to-day I was sixteen years old. If I only knew now what I thought I knew then"!"
"_June 2._... To communion in afternoon. The minister asked whether I would speak. I told what I had felt as I entered the church that afternoon, "a sort of realization of the scene in that upper chamber, its gloom and its glory. What was in that great heart whose pulsations have made themselves felt down to our own time, and all over the world?
What are its sorrows? It bore the burthen of the sorrows and distresses of humanity, and we who pledge him here in this cup are bound to bear our part of that burthen. Only thus shall we attain to share in that festival of joy and of revealed power which followed the days of doubt and despair."
"All this came to me like a flash. I have written it down from memory because I value the thought."
"_June 15._ Attended the funeral of my old friend and helper, Dr.
Williams, the oculist.... Six stalwart sons carried the coffin.... I thought this: "I am glad that I have at last found out that the battle of life is an unending fight against the evil tendencies, evil mostly because exceeding right measure, which we find in ourselves." Strange that it should take so long to find this out. This is the victory which G.o.d gives us when we have fought well and faithfully. Might I at least share it with the saints whom I have known.""
"_July 14._... When I lay down to my rest before dinner, I had a momentary sense of the sweetness and relief of the last lying down. This was a new experience to me, as I have been averse to any thought of death as opposed to the activity which I love. I now saw it as the termination of all fight and struggle, and prayed that in the life beyond I might pay some of the debts of affection and recompense which I have failed to make good in this life. Feeling a little like my old self to-day, I realize how far from well I have been for days past."
"_July 27._ Woke with an aching head.... Prayed that even in suffering I might still have "work and worship." Alliteration is, I know, one of my weaknesses. I thought afterwards of a third W--, work, worship, welcome.
These three words will do for a motto of the life which I now lead, in which these words stand for my ruling objects, "welcome" denoting "hospitality" in which I should be glad to be more forward than I have been of late...."
"_July 28._ Reading Mr. Hedge"s review of Historic Christianity to-day, I felt puzzled by his showing of the usefulness of human errors and delusion in the great order of Providence. Lying down for my midday rest, it became more clear to me that there is truth of sentiment and also intellectual truth. In Dr. Hedge"s view, the inevitable mistakes of human intellect in its early unfolding were helpful to the development of true sentiment. Higher than this, however, must be the agreement of the two, prefigured perhaps in such sentences as "Mercy and truth have kissed each other." This thought also came to me: "Oh, G.o.d, no kingdom is worth praying for but thine.""
_To Laura_
OAK GLEN, August 2, 1895.
DEAREST PIDGE, ALSO MIDGE,--
... I will condescend to inform you that I am well, that Flossy is very faithful in taking care of me, and that we are reading Bulwer"s "Pelham," the stupidest of novels. We are two thirds through with it, and how the author of "Rienzi" could have offered the public so dull a dish, even in his unripe youth, pa.s.ses my understanding.
You must not get too tired. Remember that no one will have mercy upon you unless you will have mercy upon yourself. We sit out a good deal, and enjoy our books, all but "Pelham," our trees, birds, and b.u.t.terflies.
Affectionate MA.
"_September 30._ My dearest Maud left me this morning for another long absence; she is to sail for Europe. She had forbidden me to see her off, but I could not obey her in this and sat with her at breakfast, and had a last kiss and greeting. My last words called after her were: "Do not forget to say your prayers." May G.o.d keep my dearest child and permit us to meet again, if it is best that I should live until her return, of which at present the prospect seems very good...."
The a.s.sociation for the Advancement of Women met in New Orleans this year, but first she must go with Florence to the Council of the General Federation of Women"s Clubs at Atlanta, Georgia, where a great exposition was also being held. The expedition began with disaster.
"_October 31._ Left Boston by Colonial train at 9 A.M. Rolled down my front steps, striking my forehead and bruising myself generally, in getting to the carriage...."
After taking her part in the Council and visiting the Exposition, she proceeded to New Orleans, where a warm welcome awaited her. A few days after her arrival, she was driving to some function when a trolley car ran into the carriage, shaking her up badly and bruising her lame knee severely. It seemed imperative that she should rest for a few days, and hostess and daughter pleaded with her. Florence begged in particular that she would cancel her engagement to preach in the Unitarian Church; begged a little too insistently. "I _wouldn"t_, dear mother!" "Flossy,"
was the reply, "you are you, and I am I! I shall preach on Sunday!"
_To Maud_
241 BEACON STREET, November 17, 1895.
MY DARLING CHILD,--
... I had a confused and weary time moving up from Newport, and my Southern journey followed "hard upon." Mrs. Cheney, Eva Channing, Mrs.
Bethune, and I started on October 31. Flossy joined us in New York. We reached Atlanta on Friday. Our meetings were held in the Woman"s Building of the Atlanta Exposition, and were very pleasant, the Exposition being also well worth visiting. I spoke in the Unitarian Church on the Sunday following, and on November 4 we started for New Orleans which we reached the next morning. We were all to be entertained, and Mrs. King, our old friend, had written me a cordial invitation to stay with her. The whole family turned out to receive us, and we were made at home at once.... Mrs. King had always been most kind and loyal to me. Our days in New Orleans, only six in number, were delightful. I saw most of the old friends.... After the accident to Mrs.
King and myself, I felt much like seeking my own hearth. You will have seen or heard that a trolley car upset our carriage.... All said that it was a wonderful escape. My bruises are nearly well now, and I am able to go about as usual. New Orleans has improved much since we were there.
The old mule cars have disappeared, and much of the mud. People feel very glad that the Lottery has been got rid of, but they are bitter against the sugar trust. Mrs. Walmsley received our A.A.W. ladies very cordially at her fine house and sent me beautiful flowers.... I spoke in the Unitarian Church on Sunday, so I had my heart"s desire fulfilled....
_To Laura_
241 BEACON STREET, BOSTON, December 18, 1895.