r.< 
 
 m~
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH 
 
 1868-1908 
 
 LETTERS TO HER FRIENDS AND SELECTIONS 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOKS 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 RT. REV. C. H. BRENT, D.D. 
 
 BISHOP OF THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS 
 
 'HE MAKETH HIS MINISTERS 
 A FLAME OF FIRE" 
 
 PRINTED FOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION AMONG THOSE 
 WHO KNEW AND LOVED HER
 
 ADDISON C. GETCHELL & SON 
 
 PRINTERS 
 
 BOSTON
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH, 
 
 An Interpretation. 
 
 Neither the face nor the manner of an invalid greeted 
 me when I was first ushered into the presence of Alice 
 Weston Smith. Her appearance was that of subdued 
 strength, power in repose. Dark eyes full of sparkle 
 and understanding met mine, firm, sensitive lips broke 
 into a smile, a mellow voice rang out a welcome with 
 the music of health in its tones, as a hand more like that 
 of a worker than of a sufferer grasped my own. Save 
 for the pillows among which she was couched there was 
 nothing about her to indicate physical weakness, and her 
 room, which seemed part of her personality, wore the 
 same wholesome mien that characterized herself. 
 
 It was the hope that I might perhaps bring cheer to 
 an invalid which moved me to seek her bedside. The 
 first few minutes with her dispelled my illusion. In 
 place of weakness, I found strength; instead of an appeal 
 for consolation, I met a spiritual and intellectual chal- 
 lenge. I went to her bent on carrying a blessing; I left 
 her after receiving the gift I had thought to bestow. I 
 went expecting to form an acquaintance; I left with 
 the consciousness that she had no lesser offering to make 
 than friendship. 
 
 It was not my privilege to see much of her. A dis- 
 tant part of the world soon claimed me. Yet we had 
 met often enough to form a tie that defied space and 
 time. For this reason, perhaps, I, one of her later 
 friends, have been chosen to write these prefatory words 
 to her letters. 
 
 A short-sighted realist would probably say that the 
 dominant note of her life was its pain and invalidism.
 
 11 
 
 Those of us who knew her are aware that it is as little 
 just to think thus of her as it would be of Robert Louis 
 Stevenson. Both of them learned that the secret of 
 health consisted chiefly in power to do without it. In 
 thinking of a victorious general one does not contem- 
 plate his endurance of hardship except as belonging to 
 the texture of a triumphant career. So why talk much 
 about the sufferings of our friend? It was not a subject 
 which often troubled her lips. It is symptomatic of 
 defeat for a sufferer to enlarge upon his condition ex- 
 cept to the doctor. Silence on the subject, not from 
 Spartan suppression, but because mind and heart are 
 full of outside interests and schemes and sympathies 
 clamoring for utterance, is an index of victory. The 
 selfish sufferer is fluent on the subject of his symptoms 
 and pains, the stoical sufferer is dumb, the triumphant 
 sufferer is eloquent on the lights and shadows of that 
 big pulsating thing called human life. The defeated 
 sufferer cuts himself off from the activities of men, the 
 victorious sufferer identifies himself with them "I am 
 man; naught that touches humanity is alien to me." 
 
 She was no tame servant of pain. Suffering was her 
 throne and sceptre. She was on high adventure bent, 
 not on the acquisition of that un-Christian fatalism 
 termed resignation. Her understanding of the meaning 
 of the Cross was right. Because of what she had to 
 bear, she was more rather than less fiery in spirit, her 
 sympathies were broadened rather than straitened, her 
 joyousness quickened rather than enfeebled. She did 
 not hang upon her cross; she took it up daily and car- 
 ried it, according to the commandment. 
 
 She shared her birthday (the 10th of November, 1868) 
 with Shelley and Luther, and they shared with her the
 
 Ill 
 
 poet's imagination and the prophet's faith. From early 
 youth she had the physical handicap of a delicate body. 
 But those who have best reason to know say that it did 
 not fetter her spirit or stunt her character. Her child- 
 hood was joyous in a singularly happy home. During 
 the period in which her girl's nature was mounting into 
 womanhood she advanced steadily into the far recesses 
 of that kingdom of pain from whence there was no re- 
 treat and where the throne was set from which she was 
 to rule. It was a saying of hers, twinkling with the 
 fun that was a symbol of her bubbling joyousness, 
 "I never found my feet until I put them up." 
 
 Then began her many years of shut-in life. When the 
 doors were closed all the world was shut in with her. 
 The wind and the sky, the patter of the rain and the 
 sunshine's golden flood, gave her their confidences and 
 in turn received hers. As for the stars, they sang her 
 many a merry song when sleep denied his soothing 
 touch. The birds chose her for a friend and were glad 
 of it. Men bearing the burden of the world's work 
 were among her intimates and received as well as gave 
 counsel. Mourners weighted with sorrow felt for her 
 hand and at its touch bore their grief worthily. Gifted 
 women found their ability stimulated and freshened 
 after looking into her luminous eyes and listening to 
 the rich flow of thought, which was always ready to 
 utter itself in response to the attraction of congenial 
 personality. 
 
 Her clear intellect was not content to dwell in the 
 region of abstractions. She was eager to know and 
 quick to interpret human society and its movements in 
 which she claimed place and part. Had her willing soul 
 been clothed with a less fragile body she would have
 
 VI 
 
 An empty vesture. Let resounding lives 
 
 Re-echo splendidly through high-piled vaults 
 
 And make the grave their spokesman such as she 
 
 Are as the hidden streams that, underground, 
 
 Sweeten the pastures for the grazing kine, 
 
 Or as spring airs that bring through prison bars 
 
 The scent of freedom. 
 
 Well-nigh forty years passed, and still she lived and 
 loved. A lesser soul would have yielded to the solicita- 
 tions of Death sooner than she. She made no pact with 
 him. She saw and lived the whole of life, nor was afraid. 
 Toward the last a dark cloud hid her from herself and 
 us. She was draining the last dregs of the cup behind 
 a veil. On the 5th of July, 1908, she was restored to 
 the light, though not to us, for God took her. 
 
 We inscribe over her and the great company of whom 
 she is not the least member, Gloria victis! which, I 
 suppose, means, Blessed are the vanquished, for they 
 shall be victorious. 
 
 C. H. BRENT.
 
 Vll 
 
 BY SARAH WHITMAN. 
 
 O little Pilgrim in a narrow Room, 
 How wide thy windows open to the Sky ! 
 What signs and portents in thy chamber loom, 
 What distant wonders yet drift closely by ! 
 
 'Tis there that friends bring hearts and birds make song ; 
 There books lie open and there thought breathes free ; 
 There Time and Nature in an endless tryst 
 Speak of the truths which live eternally. 
 
 'Tis there that memory shines and hope aspires, 
 There breathes the faith born of the living will, 
 And there contentment finds its shining powers 
 In listening to the message, " Peace, be still." 
 
 O little Pilgrim in a narrow Room, 
 
 'Tis there, with thee, the flowers are all in bloom.
 
 LETTERS
 
 1886 Aet. 17 1 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 10 CLARGES STREET, LONDON, 
 
 Wednesday, June 23rd. 
 My Dear Bessie, 
 
 We reached London late in the afternoon of Monday 
 and yesterday we all went to Baring's hoping, yet far 
 from expecting, letters. What was my surprise and 
 pleasure when I found six all friendly looking and with 
 a home-like expression almost equal to a smile. Two of 
 them were from you and so, for once at least, my duty 
 and pleasure are one. To begin then, but where can I 
 begin? Well, (added at Miss Ireland's special request) 
 we landed very early on Sunday morning after a tedious 
 but not unpleasant voyage and went that same day to 
 Chester in time to go to the Cathedral for afternoon ser- 
 vice. I won't attempt to describe anything the pov- 
 erty of language is too great and I should get myself 
 into a dreadful muddle. We have dragged round three 
 Duke's places and explored ruins and churches until we 
 have exhausted most of our strength and shoe leather. 
 The walls round the dearest of towns (i.e., Chester) are 
 most interesting and I feel quite "up" now in Roman 
 buildings but my "up" you know was always rather 
 superficial. We stayed in Chester for four days and 
 then started for Rowsley, Derbyshire, where we ' * turned 
 in" (an innocent bit of steamboat slang) at the "Pea- 
 cock " and a prettier old Inn and a more beautiful coun- 
 try I never expect to see. In fact I have become a decided 
 Anglomaniac that is I am a sincere admirer of the 
 country itself. The travelling is very slow and would be 
 stupid were it not that its very newness is interesting. 
 In going from Chester to Rowsley the shortest distance
 
 2 1886 
 
 in the world we were almost five hours and had to 
 change actually five times at each station hunting up 
 our bags, " boxes" and various parcels. Getting to 
 London was not quite so bad but I was cross all the way 
 at leaving Derbyshire which of all places but I've said 
 that, haven't I? Well, when we reached London I 
 no longer regretted the hills and the woods. It is a 
 worldly paradise and the sun the real bright-faced 
 American sun has driven the smoke and clouds (if 
 they are not entirely mythical) away for our express 
 benefit. Green Park which reminds me strangely of 
 our own Common is a perfect garden and nature not 
 only smiles but grins upon us. Only a few moments 
 after our arrival we went to Fortnum and Mason's 
 (mentioned you remember in Pendennis) and bought 
 candy to our heart's desire then came home, eat a 
 disgracefully large dinner and put on our best gowns 
 (frocks I should say) and went to the theatre. I like 
 the English way (of course!) I like the boxes, the 
 stalls and the dressing but oh the women! In America 
 they would be used simply to scare crows with, but 
 here they are bedecked in silks, diamonds and ostrich 
 plumes and called beauties. The men are superb but 
 the ladies are a lot of high-shouldered, big-footed, big- 
 handed (perhaps big-hearted) awkward things. This 
 isn't malice I assure you, but just a vent for my dis- 
 appointment. I wanted to find them high-bred look- 
 ing at least but I didn't. Yesterday we went to the 
 tower and were shown about by the Beef -eaters they 
 look so fat and jolly that I longed to be one there is 
 more in the armouries there than one could look at in a 
 lifetime at least any but that of Methuselah. We 
 have just got back from a meet of four-in-hands in
 
 Aet. 17 3 
 
 Hyde Park. Every one must have been there. Tonight 
 we go to see Mrs. Langtry in the "Lady of Lyons " and 
 I intend to enjoy myself. Dear Bessie, I begin to be 
 appalled at the length of my letter but when I once get 
 talking even through the chilling medium of pen and 
 ink I can't stop. It doesn't seem as though I had 
 only been ten days in England I have seen so much 
 including (you are a Wordsworth maniac are you not) 
 the river Dove. We saw too the Sands of Dee but 
 Mary or some one had already driven the cattle home. 
 When you see Dora give her my kindest respects (is 
 that proper?) for honestly I think of you all a great, 
 great deal and wish you were here. I should have en- 
 joyed King Charles' tower at Chester and his armor 
 here, a great deal more if I had only had you to argue 
 with. I am very angry with you about the German 
 for I have not had a second to look at mine. There, 
 tearing off the sheet seems to have been a necessary 
 
 precaution. 
 
 Yours as always, 
 
 A. W. SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 MALVERN, WORCESTERSHIRE, 
 
 Saturday, July 3rd. 
 My dearest Bessie, 
 
 What a good girl you are to write me so often. I re- 
 ceived your fourth letter yesterday and this is only my 
 second to you well, I am a traveller and must be for- 
 given for seeming neglect, which is really only lack of 
 opportunity. We reached this most delightful of places 
 yesterday and are already at home here (living in our 
 trunks as we do, it does not take us long to settle). It
 
 4 1886 
 
 is a most romantically situated place half up a hill from 
 whose summit one can see thirteen counties (it is too 
 steep to be climbed by the human donkey but four- 
 legged ones, mules and ponies can be found along the 
 winding roadside and hired for sixpence) and behind us 
 we have a superb view down a steep valley and across 
 a long stretch of beautiful country to the Welsh hills. 
 Behind us and so close that it has a private door into the 
 hotel and casts a great shadow over our lawn is the 
 Abbey Church a great handsome stone building very 
 much like Chester Cathedral full of the oldest and most 
 interesting things but there I have made an oath 
 never to turn guide-book and have to keep strict watch 
 upon myself in consequence. Since I wrote you last 
 we have spent a week in that earthly paradise, London, 
 and four days in Leamington, from where we drove to 
 Warwick Castle, Kenilworth and Guy's Clyff . Can you 
 imagine being eight miles from Stratford-on-Avon and 
 yet not visiting it? but it was very hot all the time and 
 we were none of us well. On the way here the train 
 stopped ten minutes at the station but even for Shake- 
 speare's sake we dared not venture into the boiling sun. 
 We changed trains at Worcester, saw the Cathedral ris- 
 ing over the town and thought of poor Charles (not of 
 course in connection with the minster however). We 
 have also changed places at Rugby and I was disap- 
 pointed to find it only a big town with a noisy station 
 after all. It must have been pleasanter in Tom's time 
 when there was nothing but a coach. We go back to 
 London in a week and shall probably go down the Wye 
 visiting Raglan Castle and the Cathedrals at Hereford 
 and Gloucester on our way, but our plans are very un- 
 settled as yet and it is too hot for much travelling. By
 
 Aet. 17 5 
 
 the way, the week we spent in London was one of the 
 pleasantest in my life and we had most delightful 
 weather not a bit of fog or smoke or rain . As it was 
 still the season (by the way I believe the Gr.O.M. dis- 
 solved parliament on purpose to spite me) the Park, 
 theatre and streets were full of fashionables which 
 added much to the gaiety of the scene. We went to 
 the theatre three or four times and the evening we 
 passed at the Criterion, Mr. Wyndham, who was act- 
 ing in " Wild Oats " sent for papa between the acts and 
 invited us all up the river to spend the day at his place 
 as soon as we got back. We have also been invited to 
 dine with a "Fellow" at Oxford. As far as England 
 is concerned I am an Anglomaniac but when the time 
 comes I shall be content to come home and settle down 
 to my very neglected German. Isn't this a fearfully 
 
 long letter? 
 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 A. W. SMITH.
 
 6 1889 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 WESTON, Tuesday, July 23. 
 My dear Bessie, 
 
 I have just been struggling with my accounts so that 
 my mind is hardly above summer squash, and Dickson 
 and Anstiss and Jim Storrow are coming out tomorrow 
 to stay so that everything I want for six or seven meals 
 ought to be ordered today even then the livery man 
 may stroll up a few minutes before supper to say, casu- 
 ally, that he can't get that salmon I ordered (as he did 
 last Saturday) or the butcher remark, with a gentle by- 
 the-way, that he can't let me have those 'ere chickens 
 today can give them to me Tuesday if I like how- 
 ever, avaunt house-keeping cares for a few moments 
 at least. 
 
 Paulina has just interrupted me to insist on my ad- 
 miring a boy doll she is attiring for the Hindoo, and 
 really you never saw anything more cunning or realis- 
 tic from his gauze flannels up! She expends all her 
 superfluous thought and energy on a succession of these 
 charitable dolls while I sit by and try to discourage her 
 by quoting lines to prove that ' < except a shell a ban- 
 gle rare a feather here a feather there the South 
 Pacific negroes wear their native nothingness " and 
 of course like their dolls to do the same. However I 
 am regarded with scorn as a scoffer and a secret foe to 
 Foreign Missions. 
 
 I have just finished " Diana of the Crossways " and 
 have fallen in love with her and the book. I like it so 
 very much that I hardly like to begin another and am 
 resting on my oars. However when I do decide to read 
 another which shall it be? What are your favorites?
 
 Aet. 20 7 
 
 I don't think I can ever thank you for overcoming my 
 idiotic prejudice and introducing me to Meredith 
 "Meredith to you my dear," as Elinor Curtis would say, 
 who is never tired of correcting me* on the above little 
 slip. Honestly though did you coax me into reading 
 the ' ' Egoist " (by telling me I was like Clara) simply to 
 make me ashamed of that theory I once broached to you 
 as to what sort of a woman I should want if I were a 
 man? Well, if I were a man I should take that all 
 back and marry a woman like Diana Merion if I could 
 find one and she would have me husband and lovers 
 thrown in and a prize in every package! I am just fin- 
 ishing " Maria Stuart " with Paulina reading " Minna 
 von Barnhelm " and " Deutsche Liebe " on my own ac- 
 count getting through Miiller's ' ' Political History of 
 Modern Times " and the old ' ' Pickwick Papers " in the 
 bosom of my family besides reading to myself the " Life 
 of Thomas Arnold, " Erckmann-Chatrian's " Waterloo," 
 Mrs. Oliphant's " Squire Arden," and "Castle Daly" 
 so you see with my housekeeping, daily struggles with 
 Dante, driving, idling, napping and pets, my days are 
 so full that I even begrudge the precious minutes callers 
 take and long letters are out of the question (do I hear 
 you murmur that you only wish they were?) even if 
 I had anything to say. 
 
 I have heard from Bessie F. who has gone to York and 
 
 I have actually received an epistle from ! and an 
 
 invitation to declined. I have just now written 
 
 another "declination " Mrs. Carlyle to the fore to 
 
 visit my dear at and I begin to feel a trifle 
 
 ungracious all round. I told you, didn't I, how the 
 indignant Elinor made her way out here and up here, 
 unexpectedly, to demand the reason of my cold and
 
 8 1889 
 
 strange behavior? I enjoyed the dear thing beyond 
 measure and we found so much to say we had to throw 
 in nights and all. 
 
 You always answer well like a duck to 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 A. W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 WESTON, Friday. 
 My dear Bessie, 
 
 How kind you are and how misguided! Why if you 
 had me to visit you, you would cease to like me I'm 
 sure! Such a hateful, sickly homesick guest as I make 
 
 you are just as sweet and dear tho' to ask me . . . 
 
 At last I have succeeded in getting " Rhoda Fleming " 
 and am keeping and saving it like raisins to the very 
 last a chapter after so many pages in my solid books 
 of which I seem to have the greatest number always 
 going. They accuse me of retiring to lie down with 
 seven books, a block and a dictionary they don't 
 know that I always take refuge in the most frivolous. 
 
 Last week however we had quite a gay week for us 
 
 Elinor spent Saturday and Sunday Dickson came 
 out several times and Dorr made us a visit of two or 
 three days on his way West, and took Paulina and me 
 for a four hours' row on the Charles River of which, 
 perhaps, you have sometime heard. Do you know 
 what a lovely river it is near Riverview and River- 
 side? and the woods so full and green as they are now? 
 I think it is much lovelier than the York about which
 
 Aet. 20 9 
 
 half -starved dwellers in the Marshall House make such 
 a to-do! 
 
 Then we found a couple of great bends in the river 
 just white with pond-lilies and spent a long time over 
 them and brought home a great armful. What fun it 
 is picking them they have stems like hat-elastic 
 and we stuck in the pads and Paulina made jumps and 
 nearly capsized us over each of hers and we lost our 
 oars and eat hideous Waltham chocolate creams and 
 nothing broke the stillness of the primeval forest-shad- 
 owed spot but the squealing of an infuriated pig and 
 a concealed hand-organ which was grinding out that 
 novel air " the last rose of summer." I have lots to do 
 and the end of my paper as well as my conscience tell 
 me it is high time to stop. If I can't get ' ' Beauchamp's 
 Career " which shall I read? and what next? 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 A. W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Wednesday. 
 My dear Elizabeth, 
 
 I was just on the eve of writing you, to apologize for 
 my long silence, when I received your letter. I was 
 very glad to hear altho' it filled me with some unpleas- 
 ant sensations and remorse. However I have been at 
 Manchester for a week and since I got back Weston has 
 done its best to frivole itself into dissipation. There 
 have been tennis-parties, tournaments, archery, church- 
 fairs, barn-parties etc. in the mildest of which I mildly 
 join, rather against my will, and the last ripples of which 
 rather disturb that calm spot of water in which I have
 
 10 1889 
 
 seen fit to anchor. Youth are continually dropping in 
 to get Paulina for tennis (that worst kind of eighteen 
 year old youth who is too shy to converse and much too 
 shy to get away) or well meaning but tactless ladies to 
 see if I am sure I won't come to a dance in the town- 
 hall a little dance Young women as I told you be- 
 fore are very scarce in this part of the country and have 
 to be imported on great occasions. 
 
 Then before I went to Elinor I was hardly fit to do 
 more than crawl round and lose my temper a feat I 
 find I am able to accomplish when all else fails. There 
 " qui s' excuse s' accuse " but I hope you will forgive me. 
 Enter Paulina with a fat letter from Lucia F. whom I 
 ought to have written long ago. My soul cleaveth unto 
 the dust. 
 
 What a lucky girl you are to be able to survey whole 
 lines of Meredith on your bookshelves while the rest of 
 us hang about libraries hoping against hope to find him 
 in at last sign our names at the foot of a long list of 
 other aspirants and return empty. However I shan't 
 encroach on your kindness so far as to borrow but wait 
 till my turn comes round at the Athenaeum for "Richard 
 Feveril " which I have been after all this time. How- 
 ever it is as well to take them slowly I think. The last 
 I read was "Beauchamp's Career" and tho' I liked it 
 the least of all when I began, I got to like it more and 
 more and now after chewing the cud of it all these 
 weeks I put it way up almost above " Rhoda " and next 
 to "Diana." How they stay by you, don't they? I 
 mean the story and the characters long after you have 
 forgotten the name and the plot of the mere novel you 
 read yesterday and his women, like Rene for in- 
 stance, who, while you read it, seem so delicately drawn
 
 Aet. 20 11 
 
 as to be shadowy stand out so clear become real peo- 
 ple to you afterwards. Isn't she fascinating? I wish 
 she didn't slip back so mysteriously into the darkness 
 without a word. Cecilia too who is so fine tho' more 
 comprehensible. As for Jenny I cared for her the least 
 of all and understood her the best but I wonder you 
 don't like it more. Nevil was such an earnest, loyal, 
 dear boy! and his uncle Romfrey is such an interesting 
 character. You say you have no "go ahead " in you 
 and add a "by-the-way " about a history course at the 
 Annex that takes my breath away. I shall study Ital- 
 ian by my own unaided light at home next winter but 
 shall attempt nothing outside but the concert and per- 
 haps fencing a fashionable form of gymnastics for 
 which I feel a natural bent. 
 
 Dickson is staying with us for the next few weeks 
 Anstiss being at Mattapoisett and has made him- 
 self very useful about our Rehearsal tickets but he 
 eats so much that my housekeeping outlook is a trifle 
 depressing. 
 
 Uncle Melly landed in New York yesterday and we 
 expect him today so that we are in a good deal of excite- 
 ment. It seems as tho' he had been gone a year. I 
 
 ought to stop and sign myself 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 A. W. SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 (Oct.) 
 My dearest Bessie, 
 
 I have just packed up " Richard Feveril" and I hope 
 he will reach you safely . One of his corners was a little 
 bit jammed in coming and I don't know how to forgive
 
 12 1889 
 
 myself for letting you send him. I enjoyed the book 
 beyond measure and the tragedy was so much less griev- 
 ous a one than I had expected that it was a relief to 
 me. Fanny Curtis who had not read it told me 
 that the father threw the son into every horrible temp- 
 tation and that he sunk under them which is not true 
 at all indeed the whole book does not seem to be in- 
 decent at all what mistaken notions people get! It 
 strikes me as the cleverest one I have yet read. What 
 one shall I read next, please? Uncle Melly has got home 
 and promises to get me anyone out of his own particu- 
 lar library which is so secluded that the Meredith fever 
 has not reached it. 
 
 When do you come town-wards? I hope we shan't 
 leave this delightful spot till November. It is a perfect 
 wonder of crimson browns now and all the marshes and 
 meadows look like Persian rugs. 
 
 Dickson has just argued his first jury case in which 
 he was senior-counsel (the cent having come down head 
 upwards) and won it straight, to the great wonder of 
 
 every one. We are doubly proud because lost 
 
 it last year with better evidence, ten to two against him. 
 I ought to go and tell my excited cook what we want 
 for dinner. 
 
 Yours very lovingly, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 21 13 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Dated from my bed 
 On this Thursday 
 The second of October 
 In the year of our Lord 1890. 
 My dearest Bessie, 
 
 I should have answered your pathetic letter at once 
 only I was on my last legs when I received it and all 
 yesterday lay in the dark with my head tied up in a wet 
 towel like a studious little Harvard student! Today I 
 am somewhat more rugged and hope to rally in time 
 to go and lunch with my dear Mrs. Higginson. By 
 the way, my dear, you are not to be uneasy about me 
 whether you hear or don't hear, for tho' my pains and 
 troubles increase rather than diminish I begin to feel 
 stronger morally, mentally and physically than I have 
 during the summer and more able to cope with them. 
 As I tell Dr. Mason, what can't a person rally under with 
 a steady pulse, splendid constitution and iron nerve such 
 as I enjoy? 
 
 Jim Storrow passed last Sunday with us and we had 
 a most delightful day and for me a most active one! 
 You remember what delicious weather it was just 
 cold enough to make everything look sparkling and with 
 just enough cloud to take off from the inanity of a per- 
 fectly clear sky! The Higginsons asked all five of us 
 to drive with them to Coffin's Beach and at ten two car- 
 riage loads of us started out I in the place of honor 
 beside Mr. Higginson and behind his own particular 
 span. It takes nearly two hours from here and two 
 hours back going by the Gloucester way and return- 
 ing via Essex thro' the most beautiful wooded wild
 
 U 1890 
 
 varied country you ever saw meadows green as spring 
 on one side and crimson marshes on the others the 
 hectic flush of the dying year (which is quite a roman- 
 tic sentence for me, isn't it?) and great arches of bar- 
 berry etc. etc. Have you ever been to Coffin's Beach I 
 wonder? If you have, description would seem inade- 
 quate and if you haven't no description could give you 
 the least idea of the grandeur of it. It's an immense 
 curve of three or four miles, I should say, and for a mile 
 or more inward there are immense rolling changing 
 dunes of the whitest, finest sand you ever saw! 
 precisely like powdered sugar to a house-keeping eye. 
 These are partly overgrown with coarse marsh grasses 
 that rattle when the wind blows thro' them and are 
 usually buried in sand before their death. Sunday 
 there was an attempt at a north-east gale out at sea 
 and the tide was high and breaking all along the beach 
 and the sandbar beyond with a savage roar and foam 
 and hiss. I never saw anything so splendid or so piti- 
 less the sea almost black broken into white and all 
 against a sky of the serenest blue. You don't know 
 what a magnificent picture it made standing back so 
 as to see it framed between two rolling sand hills! 
 broken white or feathery with grasses. 
 
 I saw Sarah Thayer the other day (she was visiting 
 the Putnams) and she told me that Dora was at that 
 moment either in Concord or gone to pass the day at 
 Coffin's Beach. It must be a source of unfailing delight 
 to a person of artistic leanings like Dora indeed Dr. 
 Emerson has painted it so much that now he has built 
 himself a little house among the dunes where he and 
 his wife pass months. Mrs. Higginson described bring- 
 ing them a pair of chickens once and being received
 
 Aet. 21 15 
 
 and her gift more especially with tears of delight Mrs. 
 Emerson had been too sick to be left alone and they 
 could get nothing to eat and were half starved to death. 
 I mean to get that new novel of Meredith's as soon as 
 my male relatives seem in a complacent frame of mind. 
 I am hungry and thirsty for a good novel; indeed for 
 a novel of any kind! I have been luxuriating in Tenny- 
 son's poetry of late, notwithstanding that I know him 
 nearly by heart already, and a little before that had a 
 craze for Browning during which I read his life and as 
 many volumes of his poems as I could lay my hands on. 
 How magnificent he is at his best and even at his worst 
 you feel the noble purpose and lookout of the man. Of 
 course you have read this new man Henley's poems and 
 what not, haven't you? and his essay on Meredith in 
 ' ' Views and Reviews " ? The last is scrappy but rather 
 interesting and some of his poems (omitting the hospi- 
 tal ones, which seem to me dreadful) are exceedingly 
 pretty particularly the last rondeau don't you think 
 so? I have just been re-reading Mrs. Gask ell's "Life 
 of Charlotte Bronte" I wonder if you ever read it? 
 It isn't very well written in one sense and Miss Bronte 
 isn't to me personally attractive (she seems to lack what 
 they call winsomeness) but for all that it is very inter- 
 esting. A more dreary, sad, dreadful life spent in 
 constant anxiety and ill-health and (literally) among 
 tombs it is hard to conceive of. One almost laughs at 
 the culmination of misfortunes the piling up of agony 
 so to speak. 
 
 We don't come back till the 15th and perhaps not till 
 later if the weather holds warm and fine. Last week 
 it was so cold we had to drive in mittens and nose-bags. 
 Paulina is spending a farewell week at Waltham with
 
 16 1890 
 
 Ethel Paine and writes that they expect Mr. Brooks out 
 there for a day or two which rejoices her soul. Isn't 
 this a nice long letter? nice in the Pickwickian sense? 
 
 from 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 ALICE W. SMITH.
 
 Aet. 22 17 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 [Spring, 1891.] 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I expected, tho' without much ground perhaps, that 
 you would have the grace to write first and have accord- 
 ingly been waiting in dignified silence for you to begin. 
 Since you haven't, I drop you a line to let you know 
 the rules of the game. When a lady leaves for a remote 
 country where she has nothing in the world to do but 
 write it is the evident duty of the busy lady left in town 
 to write first. Seriously tho' have you heard anything 
 of the Fosters? have you had so much as a word from 
 Bessie? 
 
 We are waiting supper for Dickson which is always 
 an uncomfortable process as food cooked for six-thirty 
 sharp is apt to be a trifle more unsavory at half-past 
 seven than it would be at quarter past nine if only the 
 belated traveller could be prevailed on to think so. 
 
 Next week we expect not only Dickson but wife, nurse 
 and child for a week and then there is a blank broken 
 by a promised visit of a long afternoon and night and 
 morning from Mr. Brooks. 
 
 Paulina attended the Convention to see him elected 
 away from us and we were all in such a condition by 
 that time that we would not take him back at any price. 
 I sent word to him to know if he was going to be very 
 English indeed and sign himself by the name of his see, 
 "Phillips Massachusetts" and he sent back word that 
 he couldn't tell what little tricks he might fall into but 
 I might be sure the first letter signed that way would 
 be to me. English habits don't seem to be very well 
 adapted to our prosaic ways. Reginald St. Davids does
 
 18 1891 
 
 very well and James Ebor isn't bad but when it comes 
 to John Central New York 
 
 It is looking beautifully here. The apple-blossoms 
 just in their prime and I am picking up a vulgar amount 
 of strength. I even walk a little and sleep and eat as 
 only country folks can. I can't get enough books tho' 
 I read two a day on an average. Can you recommend 
 any? How is Meredith's last? 
 
 Supper. 
 
 Yours abruptly but affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Tuesday. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Ever since Paulina saw you on Class-day and you 
 said you had written me I have been on the lookout for 
 that letter but it has never reached me. Whether it has 
 fallen into the clutches of my "Double" in the vil- 
 lage or wandered off to Manchester, New Hampshire or 
 whether it is altogether a myth I cannot decide but 
 stoutly maintain that it doesn't count. I've not had 
 a single line from you since I reached here and am all 
 the more disgusted because you are usually so good a 
 correspondent. 
 
 Did you know that the Fosters are absolutely at 
 home? in Boston or rather I suppose they are, as Rex 
 wrote mamma he expected them Friday last. I'm 
 greatly troubled as to how I am to manage to see Bessie 
 as I'm afraid she can't come to me and I know I ought 
 not to try to get to her against the strict injunctions 
 of my temporal authorities in general. 
 
 I have been having a good many faint poor turns off
 
 Aet. 23 19 
 
 and on but on the whole am better I think, tho' the hot 
 weather was pretty hard on us all. Tho' we don't nom- 
 inally have any one to visit us here people do turn up. 
 P's friends and Dickson and old family heirlooms. One 
 of Uncle Melly's little mates is spending Sunday with 
 us and Dickson and Jim come tomorrow. Friday the 
 Chief Justice turned up unexpectedly with Mrs. Fuller 
 and one of the numerous daughters and we had a delight- 
 ful little visit from him, only rivalled by the one from 
 Bishop Brooks two weeks ago. He came down early 
 one day and left late the next and sat way into the night 
 talking and was perfectly delightful. 
 
 Every one is down here this year (or it seems as if 
 they were when we spasmodically attempt our social 
 duties) and among them our dear Mrs. Higginson whom 
 we see almost every day. 
 
 I am reading a novel or two, one solid history, Lord 
 Shaftesbury's Life in 3 vols. and Napier's in four and 
 I've just finished Carlyle's " Past and Present." I'm 
 ashamed to say I never read it before but I enjoyed it 
 beyond measure. 
 
 I ought to go and try to get a little rest but I 
 wanted you to know my very good reason for not an- 
 swering that letter of yours. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Christmas, 1891. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Thank you for your kind remembrance of me. I shall 
 proceed to jot down my thoughts secular and otherwise 
 in the little note-book you sent me which will probably
 
 20 1891 
 
 read like those memorandum-books of mine over which 
 my family and friends make so merry, in which corn- 
 beef and cabbage hob-nob with the date of Savonarola's 
 death and a list of groceries meanders across a quota- 
 tion from the poets. 
 
 Our family or rather a portion of it has been down 
 with what the Manchester natives call "the Lagrippe," 
 but are now reluctantly on the road to recovery. I and 
 Paulina escaped but Paulina persists in thinking that to 
 be the only member of the family just at Christmas time 
 has its drawbacks. 
 
 It seems a long time since I saw you and I hope you 
 will come in soon and drink tea out of one of my new 
 tea-cups of which I always have a new supply every 
 holiday. 
 
 I hope the photograph arrived safely and that you 
 recognized whom it was supposed to represent. It isn't 
 often I feel in such a chastened and sentimental mood. 
 
 Yours as ever, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 And wishing you a happy New Year!
 
 Aet. 23 21 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 WEST MANCHESTER, 
 Sunday Evening. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Here we have been for a week and a day (to be quite 
 accurate) and I haven't written you yet tho' I've meant 
 to every morning to tell you how sorry I was not to see 
 you once again to bid you a less scrappy and conditional 
 good-bye. My last two days were as crowded and un- 
 comfortable as such days always are with one morning 
 two doctors around with stethoscopes talking their jar- 
 gon over my prostrate form and the other more delight- 
 fully filled by a long tete-a-tete call from my Bishop. 
 
 We arrived here in the most beautiful sunny after- 
 noon when nature supplied the rose colored spectacles 
 and since then have been congratulating ourselves on 
 the backwardness of the spring here so that we are able 
 to watch things spring up from the very beginning a 
 rare treat to us cockneys. My bird and Freckles the 
 dog have also kindly taken to the soil and the latter has 
 tempted me into exercising more than I have done all 
 winter. I have finally succeeded in getting the " Little 
 Minister" which I finished very shortly. It falls far 
 short of a " Window in Thrums," it seems to me, tho' 
 most interesting; "Babbie" is charming but what a 
 pity that the last chapter was not omitted and don't you 
 think it a mistake not to have concentrated the plot on 
 one rather startling denouement rather than on two? I 
 am re-reading the ' ' Egoist " the first of Meredith I ever 
 attempted and the only one I felt no inclination to read 
 again. To my surprise I enjoy it beyond measure. I 
 have you to thank for conquering my foolish prejudice
 
 22 1892 
 
 and giving me so much pleasure. Write when you have 
 time not before. I am a confirmed idler with a life 
 of spare hours you know. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Saturday, Aug. 27th. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I have been wishing this long time to write and thank 
 you for your letter which was delightfully long and 
 penned apparently in less breathless haste than usual 
 from which I argued and hoped that you were giving 
 the flesh a little rest. And by the way, my dear, you 
 mustn't speak as if you thought so much too well of 
 me it hurts it makes me feel ashamed and out of 
 love with the idle, self-indulgent, pleasant, petted life I 
 lead. My mission seems to be to supply an object for 
 all the kindness, patience and self-sacrificing love of all 
 my friends and relations. Speaking of Mr. Brooks in 
 a few weeks now he sails for home, when he has prom- 
 ised to come down and pass the night with us. When 
 you ask me if I have read this and that I feel like a kind 
 of literary Rip Van Winkle, some fifty years behind- 
 hand and blinking hopelessly over the new names. The 
 " Naulahka " I have read till within the last chapters and 
 tho' parts interested me, I was surprised at the poorness 
 of the story as a whole. That seems to be the great 
 trouble of collaboration, with the single exception of 
 those literary Siamese twins, Erckmann-Chatrian. As 
 for the rest I spend my leisure in following that old bit 
 of advice, "When a new book is published read an old
 
 Aet. 23 23 
 
 one," and we have been reading accordingly our every - 
 year quota of well-known Austen, Scott and George 
 Eliot aloud. Then I have been revelling in some six 
 volumes of Sainte-Beuve with a snatch at Browning 
 every now and then. Isn't it odd that when you take 
 up a volume of B. you always turn to the poems you 
 know best, and always read them with new delight and 
 deeper comprehension ? Lately I have been reading dear 
 Dorothy Osborn's letters to her lover, and a journal of 
 Caroline Fox. Did you ever see it? The notes about 
 men she met and she met everyone written by such a 
 sweet womanly creature as you can tell by the occa- 
 sional unconscious glimpses you get at herself behind 
 the notes. After Mallock and Hardy and Mrs. Hum- 
 phrey Ward it is a relief to turn to the records of so 
 pure and cool and self -restrained a life not that I don't 
 think David Grieve most attractive personally and Tess 
 a most lovable sweet woman. When you read that 
 most unpleasant story, don't you find yourself pitying 
 Tess and Clare both so pure for having so coarse a 
 biographer? Saying to yourself this isn't her fault or 
 his where the descriptions are gross and sensual this 
 is Hardy but I believe you like Hardy better than I do? 
 We still go on Monday mornings to Mrs. Tyson's 
 house where Mrs. Whitman reads to us and now we 
 have coaxed Mrs. Higginson into going with us so that 
 the day makes a kind of epoch in our quiet week, but 
 why do I say quiet? Of late we have been rather gay. 
 
 I have come to the end of my paper and am as always 
 
 Yours, 
 
 ALICE W. S.
 
 24: 1892 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 [Autumn, 1892.] 
 
 Monday. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I meant to write you last week to tell you how sorry 
 I was to miss you the morning you called and now 
 I only write because I am in trouble and know you 
 will be sorry for me. Do you remember my little 
 ''Freckles"? The cocker spaniel I bought in the spring 
 or did you never see him? I don't believe there ever was 
 a sweeter dearer more affectionate little fellow. Ever 
 since I got him he has slept on my bed at night and on 
 my sofa in the day time sat with me when I had my 
 meals upstairs and had his chair in the dining room and 
 his chair in the parlor at tea-time. I wish you had seen 
 him just once this fall. On Friday he was run over and 
 took a few steps and died almost instantly without any 
 pain the doctor says. He was unconscious when Paulina 
 lifted him up and brought him up the hill and on Sat- 
 urday we had him buried at Manchester under a tree 
 near my window. I like to think what a nice summer 
 he had springing thro' the woods and the dry brush- 
 wood after imaginary birds or sitting in the wire door 
 waiting for us to come home, wagging all over when he 
 saw us. If you could ever have seen him when I was 
 in a violent attack of pain! resting his nose on the edge 
 of the bed and with his eyes as if they were full of 
 tears and the day after I had had a bad night he would 
 scarcely leave me. Don't think me very silly please! 
 I can't tell you how dreadfully I miss the dear little 
 thing. 
 
 Tonight we are to have a dinner to which we have
 
 Aet. 24 25 
 
 been looking forward this long time Bishop Brooks 
 and Mr. Edward Hooper and his daughter and Ethel 
 Paine and two younger men but it seems as if the 
 pleasure had gone out of everything. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 November. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I have driven by your house several times in my 
 meanderings with Uncle Melly and { ' Blumpy " the 
 horse. You remember the French family of Blancpied 
 who settled in Gloucester don't you? and one branch 
 was called Whitefoot and the other Blumpy. The 
 horse's original name was Whitefoot but the other 
 better describes his gorming gait and general style. 
 Well, to go back to the subject one before last. I've 
 driven by your house and supposed that like the woman 
 in the train whom Mrs. Luce overheard answering a 
 question as to where she lived with a "I go to Salem 
 evenings," that you possibly went back there when 
 it was dark. 
 
 What do you mean about birds? are you studying to 
 be an amateur taxidermist like Mabel Cabot or isn't the 
 word " birds" at all? I myself have set up a canary 
 and knitting which is my conception of ze part of spin- 
 ster aunt. As for reading! I read nothing more mod- 
 ern than Marcus Aurelius. I wish you would bring Miss 
 Butler in to tea sometime. I long to know her not 
 merely to stare at her shyly from a distance. Like the 
 Snark I continue to " breakfast at afternoon tea " and
 
 26 1892 
 
 am absolutely unseeable even to my " bestest " till then. 
 These last two weeks I have been more miserable than 
 usual and have only crawled down when I did get 
 down by sitting on the stairs every few steps and 
 creeping back again in an hour or more but I'm better 
 again and refuse Dr. Mason's suggestion of staying en- 
 tirely abed and seeing peculiarly interesting five o'clock 
 guests there. I tell him it might do for Bishop Brooks 
 (who made us such a nice long call the other day attired 
 to my disappointment in an ordinary hat and coat) but 
 hardly for Mr. John E. Russell. 
 
 I was glad to hear from you since I can't see you and 
 
 am as ever 
 
 Yours, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 Saturday.
 
 Aet. 24 27 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 " Be able to be alone. Lose not the advantage of 
 Solitude and the Society of thyself; nor be only content 
 but delight to be alone and single with Omnipresency. 
 He who is thus prepared, the day is not uneasy nor the 
 night black unto him. Darkness may bound his eyes 
 not his imagination. In his bed, he may speculate the 
 universe and enjoy the whole world in the hermitage of 
 himself. Thus the old ascetic Christians found a para- 
 dise in a desert and with little converse on earth held a 
 conversation in heaven." 
 
 How dear how soothing to man arises the idea of God 
 peopling the lonely places, effacing the scars of our mis- 
 takes and disappointments. It inspires in man an in- 
 fallible trust. He has not the conviction but the sight 
 that the best is true and may in that thought easily dis- 
 miss all particular uncertainties and fears. He is sure 
 that his welfare is dear to the heart of being. He be- 
 lieves that he cannot escape from his good. The things 
 which are really for thee gravitate to thee. I believe 
 as thou livest that every sound that is spoken over the 
 round world which thou oughtest to hear will vibrate 
 on thine ear. Every friend whom not thy fantastic will 
 but the great and tender heart in thee craveth shall lock 
 thee in his embrace.
 
 28 1893 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 We have been helped and strengthened to bear this 
 unutterable grief by the thought of how beautiful it 
 must be for him and in the loneliest times by the thought 
 of how he would have wished us to bear it. It is the 
 first trouble we have ever had to bear without him and 
 the sorest. 
 
 Thank you for your sympathy of which I am always 
 
 sure. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 February, Tuesday Evening. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I wonder if you ever get time to come in town and 
 whether the morning would suit you better than the 
 late afternoon? One hour is as good for me as another 
 now as I have had no heart to see people and don't at- 
 tempt to go downstairs at five. I do see three or four 
 people who are very good and kind and come constantly 
 and I should like so much to see you any time when you 
 are in town and have half an hour to spare. I do so 
 long to do something for somebody and not keep all my 
 happiness to myself and you do so much. I feel as if I 
 had just let my life slip thro' my careless fingers and 
 now that I long to do some little thing there are so few 
 whose lives touch mine. 
 
 At least one can sympathize with the workers. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 24 29 
 
 To MBS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday Evening. 
 My dear Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 While Paulina is practicing her hymns I have her 
 permission to write you a note if it is very short. She 
 wanted to know what I wanted to say in it and I could 
 not tell. I just feel lonely and as if it would be a com- 
 fort to even direct an envelope to you and tell you how 
 sorry I was to be robbed of your call yesterday. 
 
 We had a pleasant drive barring crude changes from 
 snow to slush and from high ice-banks under one runner 
 to water and horse-car rails under the other and found 
 Gertrude and Mrs. Brooks at home and made them a 
 long call. It was very comforting in a great many ways. 
 They talked so much about Mr. Brooks and read us one 
 of his letters and told us so many little things and then 
 more than all one felt one was a real help to them, poor 
 things, and could not only understand what this grief 
 was to them but could say a little something to comfort 
 them. I have felt all along that nothing could make 
 me so happy now as doing something for Gertrude. It 
 seems so directly a doing something for him and both 
 she and her mother are so responsive to sympathy and 
 so sweet and unselfish about it that it is very easy. 
 Mrs. Brooks told us with tears that we must think of 
 them as a charge now understanding I suppose what 
 a comfort that was to us. 
 
 Have you read the All Saints' Day Sermon lately? It 
 is so particularly beautiful, but then they all are. This 
 is all just to sign myself 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE.
 
 30 1893 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 [Easter Even, 1893.] 
 Saturday, 9-30. 
 
 As you have been gone but twenty minutes by Shrews- 
 bury clock not much cream, as mamma calls items, has 
 had time to collect. Valentina and the Judge are well 
 and boof uls their young simply well. Of course Julia 
 glanced gloomily into the nest and said solemnly, ' ' Miss 
 Alice, I think one of them is gone," meaning dead. I 
 don't know what were her grounds for saying so as four 
 serpentine necks were waving under her very eyes and 
 four orange beaks held wide open. Certainly if they do 
 "go" it won't be from lock-jaw. 
 
 Enter "the Green-Eyed " laden down with your Sew- 
 ing School letters like a postman and with an anxious 
 and care-worn look. It had suddenly occurred to her, she 
 said, that Sewing School might be at ten instead of half 
 past. She or Mrs. Paine are to come in this afternoon 
 and tend me while Momb attends the Christening. It 
 takes at least half the adult population of Boston to take 
 the place of Mrs. Jellyby gone off for a week's pleasur- 
 ing. I myself sit with the zenana funds clasped to my 
 bosom, the budget open in my claws and a pen dipped 
 in ink ready to jot down anything at a moment's notice 
 while mamma "prowling" out to do the marketing 
 has left the brown eyed doll propped up in the arm chair 
 ready to be seized up and finished on her return. 
 
 How I dote! 
 
 Saturday, 2 o'clock. 
 
 Mrs. Brooks has sent me that picture of a Burne-Jones- 
 looking head that hung I think in Mr. Brooks's spare-
 
 Aet. 24 31 
 
 room and you a glass vase he kept on his dressing table. 
 I have sent her some flowers thanked her for both of 
 us and explained that you were away. I only wish 
 yours had been something a little less breakable because 
 you would feel so dreadfully if anything happened to it. 
 
 My flowers begin to "Hech gather." A basket just 
 came in from the Paine's full of violets, heath and the 
 most gorgeous scarlet-red "jacks" which I have been 
 lying down to stare into. 
 
 Dickson has started for Cambridge with a claret bot- 
 tle on either hip like John Gilpin, curly ears being sup- 
 plied by the bearer. 
 
 Dost love? 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 P.S. The largest bunch of violets you ever saw has 
 just come for me, from whom do you think? A new 
 admirer, Mrs. Royal Bobbins. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Easter Morning. 
 My own dear, 
 
 I have just got back from early Communion and am 
 a little tired but I don't want to let the day pass with- 
 out writing you and telling you how beautiful it has 
 been in many ways. The sun was shining into the 
 church and the little sparrows twittering in the vines 
 and the pulpit all white with Easter lilies. At first it 
 was almost too much to bear, till one remembered what 
 he had gone to and that there is no temple there, " for 
 the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the Temple 
 of it;" and I remembered what he said in his Easter 
 Sermon, that if we kept the city of our hearts holy, then 
 ' ' the dear dead would come to us and we should know 
 they were not dead but living and bless Him who was
 
 32 1893 
 
 their Redeemer and rejoice in the work they are doing 
 for Him in His perfect world." 
 
 I had scarcely reached home before I received the most 
 beautiful Easter present from Mrs. Brimmer the pho- 
 tograph Mr. Brooks gave you of himself, enlarged almost 
 to the size of my Botticelli (only square) and framed in 
 a broad gold frame that throws it out superbly and you 
 have no idea how much more beautiful it is even than 
 the original. Did you ever hear anything so kind? It 
 seems sometimes as if this world were just over-running 
 with kindness and people only wanted an object like 
 me to lavish it on. If it wasn't that, I should feel 
 almost too ashamed to stand up under people's kind- 
 ness. Last night dear Mrs. Paine brought me down the 
 two sizes of that enlarged photograph which are both 
 perfectly lovely and a big one taken from the bust, and 
 another Easter lily came and a lot of violets from Bessie 
 Hamlen and primroses from Elinor, and this morning 
 the most beautiful of all, a dozen white roses from Mrs. 
 Lodge. Will you thank her for me? and tell her that 
 they were so perfectly lovely that I felt I must share 
 them with some one and carried four of them to Ger- 
 trude Brooks this morning on my way to church. So 
 you see my room is bright with flowers and pictures and 
 among the flowers stands a downy gosling sent by Mrs. 
 Whitman to Mr. and Mrs. Bird. Greatly to Nathalie's 
 amusement the man who brought the parcel evidently 
 thought they were real people I mean humans and 
 repeated "Mr. and Mrs. Bird, don't they live here?" 
 Something like the Fleur de Luce incident. 
 
 With a great deal of love to Mrs. Lodge and still more 
 to yourself I am 
 
 Your own sister, 
 
 NANNY.
 
 Aet. 24 33 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 [April] 
 Saturday morning. 
 
 Its nice to think of your visit as nearly over (tho' my 
 nurses rudely express their disgust at your return) for 
 Hamlet and I are both getting desperate. He distin- 
 guished himself last night by digging several small holes 
 in the lily pot he said because it needed fresh earth 
 about the roots but I think he had a faint hope of find- 
 ing S'Tanta if he got down far enough. He has begun 
 to be a little doubtful of her having been in the furnace 
 all this time, tho' he still listens down the register in 
 case 
 
 I wasn't ' ' real rugged " yesterday but rallied under 
 Ellen's nursing in time to enjoy a long call from Miss 
 Lowell and a still longer one from that dear Mrs. Hig- 
 ginson. 
 
 Dora Thayer came Thursday and drank tea with me 
 and I missed Mrs. Paine that afternoon and again yes- 
 terday. She is coming again today. Elinor also writes 
 that the Blue Hill walk is too long and she is coming in 
 this afternoon and that viper Ellen will have to give her 
 Monday morning when Mamma goes to her ' ' Employ- 
 ment Society." It's as well Ethel is housed and so out 
 of the running, or it would have been as I foretold, and 
 only seven parrot feathers would have remained of your 
 once lovely sister. By the way, when are we to expect 
 you?' not before Wednesday evening I hope it would 
 be a pity to have to come home sooner when you are 
 having such a perfectly lovely time and seriously we
 
 34 1893 
 
 would rather you had the extra days there than see you 
 a little sooner. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Paine. 
 
 Your doting 
 
 "COMPANION SISTER." 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Tuesday Morning. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 All the things that made my room at all homelike had 
 been packed, locked and strapped when your roses and 
 pansies arrived to cheer my spirits by brightening even 
 this desert up and reminding me of you. I shall be able 
 to lie still and enjoy them till late this afternoon when 
 they will travel down with me and will make, with my 
 sermons and my precious photographs, the room at Man- 
 chester as nearly like my dear old room here as possible. 
 I only wish Waltham were just over the Higginson hill 
 or even nearer, and tho' I know it is wrong, I can't help 
 regarding the summer as a dreary blank which divides 
 us from Boston with all whom we love best and the dear 
 associations which make it sacred. 
 
 I never can thank you, nor indeed half begin to tell 
 you, dear Mrs. Paine, what you have been to us all 
 through this dreary spring. We have looked forward 
 to your and Ethel's visits like the bright spots in our 
 days and shall look forward to your rarer visits all thro' 
 the summer which seems so long as one thinks of it. 
 However we only have to live one day at a time and 
 strength is given even at the darkest. Have you read
 
 Aet. 24 35 
 
 the " Great Expectation " lately? It has made me feel 
 so much less dreary at the idea of moving. 
 
 Always most affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 [April] Tuesday morning. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 We were half in hopes you would forget that yester- 
 day was not your Monday and turn up to lunch and 
 felt quite aggrieved when you did not. I am a much 
 more sprightly companion than I was a week ago, and 
 Sunday I absolutely dressed for the first time and went 
 downstairs without the doctor's permission and felt none 
 the worse. Indeed I am so much better that I can hardly 
 believe I ever felt as I did those four days and nights 
 when I shrank from so much as moving a finger and 
 only wanted to bid you all good-bye before the next at- 
 tack. I never realized before how much I loved you all 
 and how dear the old familiar life was which, these last 
 months, has seemed such dreary uphill work. I think 
 being so ill has really helped me to feel how much I have 
 left and that each day is a real gift and blessing. I 
 hope I shan't frighten you all so badly for a long time 
 to come. 
 
 We have put off our going to Manchester till Monday, 
 the eighth partly on my account and partly on account 
 of the rest of the family whose desire for one more week 
 in town is unanimous. So you see you will have to 
 lunch here at least once more. 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 36 1893 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Friday Evening. 
 My dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I am feeling so much better today that I want to write 
 and tell you so myself and beg you not to distress your- 
 self on my account nor alarm yourself as I am afraid 
 you do. I've lots of strength and youth to fall back 
 upon, you know, and as for the pain and discomfort 
 that has brought so much love and happiness along with 
 it that I really regard it as the greatest blessing that 
 could have happened to me. You know sometimes your 
 affection makes me quite humbled and ashamed, and 
 would always, if I didn't feel that you loved me because 
 you were you, and not because I was I, and that all the 
 glamor is in your own eyes. I wanted to write and tell 
 you how little I deserve it just after you left Wednes- 
 day, but Paulina was resolute in refusing to let me have 
 pen and paper and after all, it isn't a question of de- 
 serving, is it? If you will only go on loving me per- 
 haps sometime, somewhere I shall be what you think 
 me now and in the meanwhile your friendship is such a 
 help and comfort. 
 
 Do you remember in that " Golden Key" of McDon- 
 ald's, how the boy and girl are told not to lose heart if 
 they lose each other for awhile as they get nearer to the 
 land whence the shadows fall? If we have lost our 
 guide for a little time, we must cling the closer to each 
 other I suppose and go on hoping and trusting however 
 dark it seems. 
 
 I have got back to my copying again and wrote a page 
 or two from one of Miss Minns' sermons today such a 
 beautiful one on the doubting Thomas. When Paulina 
 is away you must let me read them all to you.
 
 Aet. 24 37 
 
 Paulina has just got back from spending a night with 
 Gertrude Brooks in Andover; it was very pleasant to 
 her to see it again. 
 
 The little boys are very dear particularly Robert 
 who has come to take quite a tender interest in Aunt 
 Alice who can't go out to play on the rocks. One of 
 the first things he told his mother when she got home 
 tonight was that the doctor said I was ezzy much better 
 and that I had seen him and baby both. I think 
 they look upon me as a mysterious and sphinx-like 
 character like that invalid in Mrs. Ritchie simply a 
 voice and an appetite. What an epistle, but I know 
 
 you will forgive me. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 WEST MANCHESTER, 
 Sunday, June 25th. 
 Dear Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Mamma has been meaning to write you every day 
 these past weeks to tell you how we were all getting 
 on and had just sent her letter to the post when yours 
 arrived. I can't tell you how much I feel your writing 
 me on that day, though every day now seems like an 
 anniversary and the real ones are the easiest to bear. 
 I should have written you myself only, since you were 
 here, I have been down in the depths again, and now 
 that I am a little better again Gertrude Brooks and 
 Bessie Foster have both made us a short visit which 
 means for me a long rest too, tho' seeing them was the 
 greatest comfort and help, mentally. Bessie Foster is
 
 38 1893 
 
 one of my oldest and dearest friends, and as she is ex- 
 iled all winter on account of her lungs and only comes 
 to the sea for a day or so under protest, her yearly visit 
 here is something I look forward to most eagerly and 
 back on with delight. It is so much easier to say some 
 things than to write them and a short talk makes it 
 easier to take up letters again. Gertrude Brooks was 
 as sweet as she could be and we had lovely weather 
 and sent her back apparently much refreshed. Paulina 
 and I had filled a copy of "In Memoriam" with wild 
 flowers pressed and stuck in opposite certain lines and 
 verses that we thought would comfort her and her 
 pleasure at receiving it was most touching particu- 
 larly as it had been the greatest happiness to us to do 
 it. She wrote me before she came that she was going 
 to copy out the sonnets for me as soon as they got back 
 from New York and send them with one of the photo- 
 graphs of Mr. Brooks's study, which is something to 
 look forward to I suppose it is very wrong but I 
 can't help feeling as if there were no more future in 
 this world I mean only just the day's burden to bear 
 with what strength we can and the great meeting to 
 look forward to. As far as the personal loss is con- 
 cerned each hour makes it harder I think and seems to 
 add the dull weight of another day to the new life 
 which we have had to take up without him. It is 
 like what he says in one of the sermons, "Why so 
 much duty with so little strength? Why only the jour- 
 ney and the hunger and the thirst without the brook of 
 refreshment by the way? " Then again there will come 
 times when it all seems so beautiful and clear where 
 it is easy to see how it must be for the best, and that 
 that is the last most precious thing our love can do for
 
 Aet. 24 39 
 
 him, to forget our own grief in thinking what this must 
 mean to him. It comforts me when the black feeling 
 comes on just to repeat, "He asked life of Thee and 
 Thou gavest him a long life even forever and ever;" 
 and Christ's comfort to his disciples when they were 
 just beginning to feel the bitterness and horror of sepa- 
 ration, " If ye loved me ye would rejoice because I said 
 I go unto the Father " It is hardest tho' when one 
 has to see people people that don't understand. If I 
 had to, I suppose it would be easier, but being so much 
 in my bed and not even driving encourages that kind 
 of selfishness and folly I suppose, so that I shrink at the 
 very idea of seeing most people, even old friends. Ellen 
 Hooper, tho', is very different and I am looking forward 
 to seeing her a great deal this summer, and Mrs. Fred 
 Dexter and Mrs. Whitman are most devoted; and now 
 we shall see the Higginsons who finally have got into 
 their house in spite of plumbers. Paulina has just got 
 home from hearing Dean Lawrence and wishes me to 
 ask if it would be quite convenient for you to have her 
 come to Waltham Thursday afternoon and stay till 
 Saturday morning? Is there the slightest chance of 
 your being able to lunch with us here on Thursday and 
 letting her go back with you? or coming back with her 
 Saturday to lunch? I hope there is and that Ethel will 
 forgive me for saying that the whole family are hungry 
 
 to see you. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE X VV~ESTON SMITH.
 
 40 1893 
 
 To MRS. EGBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Sunday, July 23rd. 
 My dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Tho' feeling rather weak and good-for-nothing under 
 the combined effects of dynamite and a sulphonal that 
 didn't work, I don't want to let today pass without writ- 
 ing you a line. It is pleasant and comforting to have it 
 come on a Sunday, isn't it? and on such a Sunday, with 
 a cloudless sky and a fresh cool breeze that makes the 
 sea look as it does in the autumn and with all the leaves 
 glistening after the rain. I have been lying here close 
 to the window so as to drink it all in and reading " An 
 Easter Sermon " to the sound of the church bells. Some- 
 how on such a day one can't help feeling ' ' the glory of 
 the sum of things " and understanding, however faintly, 
 a little of what the Bible means by "peace." 
 
 Since you were here I have been very ill indeed 
 Tuesday night for an hour or so I was alarmingly so 
 but I have been a great deal better mentally since that 
 few minutes talk alone with you which comforted and 
 helped me beyond measure and seemed to clear up the 
 clouds somehow and start me on a fresh bit of the road. 
 What I felt was foolish and morbid. I know what Ten- 
 nyson meant by the grief that saps the mind, and one 
 doesn't want to convey one's selfishness into what ought 
 to be, above all things, kept sacred and pure. 
 
 I was interrupted by a visitation from Dr. who 
 
 if he does nothing else, affords me a constant source of 
 amusement by talking of * ' general measures, my dear 
 Miss Smith," of the evils of animal food and the advan-
 
 Aet. 24 41 
 
 tages of " A. B. C. " wheat. ' ' Whoever " he says ' ' heard 
 of a cow having neuralgia? " (or of a tiger's having ner- 
 vous headache for that matter). I tell Paulina his pana- 
 cea is ' ' eat parsley and spring from the ankle " and that 
 probably the explanation of Nebuchadnezzar's extraor- 
 dinary behavior was that his own doctor being away, he 
 
 called in a Babylonish Dr. who turned him out to 
 
 grass. 
 
 Please give my dearest love to Lily and believe me, 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 [August] 
 
 MANCHESTER, Monday morning. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 You can't tell how flattered I've been at receiving so 
 many note-letters from so non-committal a correspond- 
 ent as you usually prove; and you may be sure I should 
 have answered you long e'er this, if we hadn't been keep- 
 ing a kind of amateurish summer hotel, these last four 
 or five days, which is an unusual enough thing in this 
 inhospitable mansion. Gertrude Brooks came on Sat- 
 urday to pass Sunday and she is still staying here, tho' 
 for the moment she is off on a five houue' bout with 
 Paulina, first to hear Mrs. Whitman read at the Tyson's 
 and then to lunch with Mrs. Higginson. Ethel was here 
 when she came (and indeed till Saturday evening) hav- 
 ing come down Friday to go to the Curtis's party; for 
 which purpose we had Dickson also and Bay Lodge 
 the most delightful story-telling, overgrown, handsome
 
 42 1893 
 
 boy with a strong sense of humor and a most becoming 
 appreciation of other people's jokes. 
 
 Speaking of the Curtis's party and old jests your de- 
 scription of your " Eagle Mountain House " diversions 
 reminds me of my own weak witticism that " one swal- 
 low-tale coat doesn't make a summer party," at which 
 Mrs. Whitman remarked, * ' Alice, that is indeed a clas- 
 sic! " which may have been a delicate way of saying 
 that it would be a long time before any one would ap- 
 preciate it. She was here Wednesday, and Thursday 
 Paulina and Ellen Hooper poured tea there for as many 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Chapman's friends as cared to ride forth 
 upon a nor'east gale to see them. Paulina was made 
 happy by seeing Mr. Brimmer for quite a while and came 
 home much infatuated over the looks of Victor Chap- 
 man who seems (for a youth raised up on the Lilias 
 Mohun Rule of Love-Theory) to have conducted himself 
 with singular propriety. Did you see, by the way, that 
 American admirers of Aunt Charlotte were also invited 
 to contribute their shilling to her birthday fund? and 
 that with this modest donation every admirer was to 
 send a sheet of criticism on her works all to be bound 
 together and presented with the money. A fascinating 
 gift. 
 
 I am trying among other things to wade thro' Sy- 
 monds' "Life of Michelangelo " and think John Adding- 
 ton coarse and carnally minded on every line Seeing 
 that you like him, is this kind? It reminds me of Mrs. 
 Dalton's saying that she was so used, when she praised 
 a book, to have some one crop up and say ' < but didn't 
 you think it a little common? " that she now hedges 
 herself to begin with and is careful to begin, " I am read-
 
 Aet. 24 43 
 
 ing Watts's Hymns Slightly coarse, I know, but still 
 
 etc." 
 
 I am so glad you will come down in September of 
 course you must! Anstiss, Dickson, children and at- 
 tendants appear here on Saturday the 2nd for two weeks, 
 which I suppose will mean till Monday the 18th, but after 
 that fires will be kept burning to welcome you at any 
 time. You will come like help to the perishing, for I 
 shall be pining alone without Paulina who goes out to 
 Chicago via Montreal and Quebec and Niagara and 
 comes back that way at any rate she starts on Sep- 
 tember 14th for two weeks with the Higginsons, who 
 asked her the other night to be a member of their 
 family during the trip and represented their reasons 
 for wanting her as purely selfish of course! Ellen 
 Hooper, Pauline Shaw and Elinor are to go at the same 
 time and, of course, Paulina is half wild with delight. 
 Isn't she in luck quite apart from all she is to see for 
 the first time. I don't think I ever scrawled so and my 
 brain is quite topsy as to spelling. As the Scotchman 
 said " Wha can spell with sic a pen? " but nevertheless 
 and always I am your loving 
 
 "SNAP." 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Friday, Aug. 18. 
 My dearest Elizabuff, 
 
 I've been straining at the leash to write you this many 
 a long day and will be put off no longer let come what 
 will. I've not been well (to put it mildly) but while
 
 44 1893 
 
 these fingers can clutch pen-stock etc., etc., I will give 
 the lie to Sydney Smith's unpleasant simile that corre- 
 spondences were "like small-clothes before the inven- 
 tion of suspenders it is impossible to keep them up." 
 
 I wonder if you had the same weather we did, a week 
 ago Sunday and Monday ? Regular stage thunderstorms 
 every few minutes striking playfully in Lynn, Salem, 
 Boston, Magnolia and so on. I lay at least three hours 
 in the Black Hole of Calcutta (i.e., the front entry with 
 the doors shut) and Sunday evening and night was more 
 like the Walpurgis ditto with Herbert Lyman arriving 
 on a bicycle for a night's shelter to take the part of 
 these unpleasant people who arrived on sows during 
 that mysterious occasion. Since tfcen till yesterday we 
 have had the most delicious weather Paulina told you, 
 didn't she, of her picnic at Coffin's Beach on Fanny 
 Hooper's birthday? Mr. Hooper himself didn't go, hav- 
 ing a pet aversion to that kind of entertainment. He 
 says he always remembers the scorn with which Mr. 
 Sohier described Mr. Patrick Jackson as " the sort of 
 man who would walk ten miles to eat bread and cheese 
 under a tree with his aunt! " By the way he told us of 
 a most " Whitmanesque " note he had just received ask- 
 ing him to dine with the Mr. Myers of Psychical Re- 
 search fame and adding, ' ' I think you will find him 
 more of a lion than a unicorn! " I think it would take 
 Mr. Myers himself to tell what she meant if anything. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Higginson come to see us as devotedly 
 as ever and Mr. Higginson is beginning to look a little 
 less worn out and discouraged about your old stock
 
 Aet. 24 45 
 
 market. As I wish to keep Sam Weller's art of letter 
 writing " to make your correspondent wish for more " 
 I must come to a sudden stop but not before telling 
 you that in a review of Sergeant Belasis' Life (Tracta- 
 rian Movement) it spoke of his having met Wilber- 
 force and Keble while visiting the Yonges at Otterburn! 
 Aunt Charlotte always did keep the best of high-church 
 society. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 P .S. I ordered you a little Tauchnitz edition of Charles 
 Kingsley's Life the other day in hopes you might be 
 induced to read it in that form and they send me word 
 that it will be here in six weeks! Why on earth it takes 
 so long unless they are going to have it printed as well 
 as bound I can't see but at all events don't read it till 
 then, will you? 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 MANCHESTER [Aug. 21], 
 
 Saturday Eve. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I feel that I must write you a line just to tell you how 
 nice it was to see you and to renew the old bond not 
 of friendship, which needs no renewing but of use. 
 The only thing I regret was the shortness of your stay 
 which kept us necessarily on superficial subjects; but 
 you must write me when you can, won't you, and tell 
 me all that you are doing and as much of what you are 
 thinking as can get itself put down on paper. I will
 
 46 1893 
 
 write you faithfully, by which I mean often and regu- 
 larly and without waiting for answers, which I always 
 looked on as an absurd ceremony between friends. It 
 will be a real pleasure to me and I have plenty of time 
 if only I am well enough. You won't think it very 
 absurd, I know, if I tell you that even the thought of 
 doing so little as writing to my near friends seems like 
 daylight somehow in the midst of a future very dark 
 at times. In one sense I feel as if my life had come to 
 an end last January and that since then I had been 
 struggling along in the loneliness and darkness with 
 " my horizon gone " and only the certainty " as the day 
 so would my strength be " and that with patience and 
 trust the top of this long steep hill would be reached 
 from which I should see clearly the real horizon the 
 goal of all our lives. Don't think I mean to complain 
 indeed I have never been so really happy as I am when 
 the grief is most overwhelming. It is then one sees be- 
 yond and to live by faith and not by sight seems beauti- 
 ful and natural. Indeed so much joy has come to me 
 in all my life that I long to share it with some one who 
 could use it better. 
 
 What a long note and all about myself, but I wanted 
 to tell you what we did not reach while you were here. 
 If you do see Miss Ireland or write her please remember 
 me to her. I should have written myself long ago and 
 half decided to and then was afraid it might be only an 
 awkward intrusion after all. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 24 47 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Sunday Morning 
 
 [Sept. 4]. 
 My own dearest Gertrude, 
 
 This envelope has been directed to you almost since 
 you left us and I had hoped to write the letter to put 
 in it so that it would reach you when you got back 
 from Beverly, but Wednesday night I was taken very 
 ill and the doctor has been keeping me abed and dread- 
 fully quiet ever since. However everything turns out 
 for the best and, by waiting so docilely, I can not only 
 write you myself, but send you our last letter from Mrs. 
 Beaumont and with it the long lost one which went 
 out to Weston (where we spent a summer four years 
 ago, strangely enough!) and then was returned to her. 
 We are delighted to have it at last and we thought you 
 would like to see it too Paulina can bring it back when 
 she goes to Andover on Thursday. She is looking for- 
 ward so much to her night there and I can't tell you 
 with how much pleasure we look back on your little 
 visit here and how very very glad we are if it refreshed 
 you and gave you new courage for the heavy burden you 
 have to bear. I know that the thought of you, dear 
 Gertrude, has helped me in many a dark time and the 
 idea that I may be of some little comfort to you makes 
 me face almost with courage the sad hard winter that 
 is coming. After all if we think of him and not of our- 
 selves all the rest of our lives it seems to me must be a 
 psalm of joy and thanksgiving for the work that he has 
 done and is doing for God and the rest that he has 
 now. "Eye hath not seen nor ear heard" and the 
 days and months and years which seem so long now will
 
 4:8 1893 
 
 not seem so long there when, please God, we shall all 
 be together with no fear of parting any more. 
 
 Anstiss and Dickson and their two little boys came 
 yesterday morning, and tho' I have not been allowed to 
 see the children yet, I have heard their voices and little 
 feet trotting up and down stairs and pattering over my 
 head most unusual sounds in this grown-up house- 
 hold. The youngest one dives head foremost into the 
 blackberry bushes and the horses' stalls and is most 
 rapturously adventurous generally. He woke up this 
 morning muttering "Two good horses fourtarriages" 
 as tho' he were going to make an inventory of our pos- 
 sessions beginning with the stables. Robert, who is 
 nearly four is much quieter and devotes himself to 
 Hamlet whose three tricks so impress him with that 
 small "person's" intelligence that this morning he was 
 discovered seated on the ground showing him a picture 
 book. Hamlet liked the book better than a toy horse 
 they bought and at which he barks ferociously at 
 intervals. 
 
 The paper only gives me room to sign myself 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 [September 14th.] 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday afternoon, 4-30. 
 Dearest Tweeby 
 
 I am going to write even tho' the afternoon mail has 
 not come to hand but if it is as thrilling as the morning
 
 Aet. 24 49 
 
 budget which consisted of an advertisement of Mrs. 
 Coyle nee Collins I can put it in the appendix. To 
 begin these a la Momb I am in bed writing " my 
 own one " Mamma is lying on the sofa " thinking," 
 while near by sit the birds doing the Grandmother and 
 Grandfather Smallweed act in opposite chairs before 
 the fire, and Hamlet, the dear person, is futilely pursu- 
 ing buz-fuzzes in the screen-door and keeping an eye on 
 the carriages that pass by, in case Aunt Tweeby should 
 change her mind and return to us. It was only the 
 screen door that prevented him and me both from fling- 
 ing ourselves headlong from the balcony when we saw 
 your blue hat disappear round the curve, and if it had 
 not been for the common round and the daily task we 
 should have continued to bay in chorus and mingle 
 our tears most of the day. As it was however we are 
 really getting along bravely. Dr. Washburn says that 
 mamma's ailment is a not uncommon form of indiges- 
 tion and says that if she will resume her ordinary diet 
 
 walk every day and " wear his medicated flannel" 
 
 which last is a quip of the fancy she will be all 
 right in a day or two. This is a great relief to my mind 
 as I have a monopoly of sickness in these parts and 
 Hamlet is improving rapidly and I myself am "bob- 
 bish " I'm so sorry this couldn't have been yester- 
 day and then you needn't have gone off under such a 
 Gummidgy cloud of gloom and I might have carried 
 out more fully the programme of " jolly jolly " which 
 I had planned for a last day with my sister. 
 
 Take good care of your dear self and don't forget 
 
 Your 
 
 "NAN."
 
 50 1893 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 [September 16.] 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Saturday Noon. 
 
 Thank dear old N'Elinor for her postscript and give 
 her and Ellen and Bella my love. Mrs. Higginson too 
 of course. Some vegetables arrived yesterday from her 
 garden which disappeared as green things did before 
 Joel's Locusts and speaking of the Minor Prophets 
 reminds me that I have just read that verse in Zechariah 
 1 1 corn shall make the young men cheerful and new wine 
 
 the maids." It reads a little like 's idea of modern 
 
 society. By the way did you read the " Spectator " be- 
 fore you went and did you see that " Aunt Charlotte" 
 had written a letter to the Editor on flying ants begin- 
 ning with some friends of hers ' ' living in Salisbury 
 Close " Wasn't it prophetic our putting her meet- 
 ing with Dr. Moberly there, when Dr. Pusey, or was it 
 Mr. Keble, who was " jealous," and the world said, "I 
 thought he believed in celibacy " but then we always 
 were "prophets by trade." Perhaps being a plain man, 
 like Captain Watts, you would like a few facts for a 
 change such as that Edward has just got back with 
 the basket, that Anstiss has spent the morning in mak- 
 ing calls while her children have played on the beach 
 " on the shores of the loud sounding sea," my Gregory 
 would say. Hamlet's bites and wounds look rather hor- 
 rid but don't seem to affect his spirits at all. Last night 
 he pulled his Uncle Dickson down to the station and 
 back and is now sporting in the woods with his " Gam- 
 mudger " at the other end of his strap as ballast. Talk- 
 ing of Gammudger, I told her this morning of a sweet
 
 Aet. 24 51 
 
 conception I had and that was to give you my pink 
 wrapper then clean lace would instantly be put on it 
 and I could take it back. Was this good? No letters 
 of that peculiarly delicate nature which I said I would 
 forward instantly have as yet come for you indeed I 
 may say that no letters, delicate or otherwise ain't come 
 for nobody. Bad grammar is not funny I hear you 
 say, but remember Kingsley's letters to Tom Hughes! 
 I had a baddish turn early this morning but it seems to 
 have been just what my constitution needed and has 
 even dispelled that state of mind which mamma deli- 
 cately calls nervous. Mamma is on the mend. Did she 
 send you my love last night in doughnut form? Do I 
 miss my Polens don't I? "There's no luck about 
 the house When my gude mon's away." 
 
 YOUR SIAMESE TWIN. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday Morning, Sept. 21. 
 My own darling Tweeby, 
 
 Its a whole week today since you left us and might 
 be seven years for the feel which doesn't mean that 
 we're not doing splendidly. Indeed there hasn't been 
 a moment that I've not been delighted to have you do- 
 ing anything so lovely! Dost think thy "Goat" so self- 
 ish that she would keep thee ever tethered by her side 
 at that exciting centre Haarlem? 
 
 Your Monday letter came last night and slept under 
 my pillow so that I had a splendid night. 
 
 We decided last night that even the World's Fair 
 could have nothing lovelier to offer than the moonlight
 
 52 1893 
 
 on the water with an occasional little orange light shin- 
 ing out of the silver in a window on Baker's Island or 
 on a moored boat and today! everything blue and glisten- 
 ing with the air like iced champagne. Does this simile 
 sound a little like our comparing our domestic yellow 
 plush parlor to a gambling hell? 
 
 I'm feeling so much better today and yesterday 
 "you've no conception" indeed I may say now that 
 Monday evening I wasn't at all well, as Momb would 
 say, that Monday night I was pretty ill, and that Tues- 
 day noon we sent off for the doctor but by the time he 
 got here I was " a'loffin " and my Tweeby was not here 
 to say "Good dog, Nanny ! " 
 
 By the way you must thank Mrs. Higginson for a 
 continual supply of garden stuff and Mr. Higginson for 
 the "Forum," and tell him that I was so pleased and 
 excited that he was absolutely going to get off and join 
 you that I forgot to say how much I liked " Denise " 
 I hope you are going to keep him all the time on that 
 mysterious return trip of yours touching at the land of 
 the Midnight Sun the Victoria Falls the Sources of 
 the Nile and so on. 
 
 How I dote! in fact I love you so that sometimes I 
 incline to Mamma's theory that we are both insane. 
 Have a good time and come home refreshed and if you 
 don't get your letters regularly, lay it to the eccentricity 
 of the mails and not to the unfaithfulness of your de- 
 voted family, who write every few minutes. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 "NANNY."
 
 Aet. 24 53 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 WEST MANCHESTER, 
 
 Saturday, September 23rd. 
 My dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I can't let today pass without writing. you, tho' I 
 had another ill turn last night and am more feeble this 
 morning than I had hoped to be when I was looking for- 
 ward to sending you a long letter and first of all I 
 must thank you for the sermons which came safely on 
 Wednesday and for your thoughtfulness in sending the 
 directed envelope with them, so that when the time 
 comes to return them my brother can send them from his 
 office to your father's. It relieves my mind greatly not 
 to have to trust anything so precious to the post. Please 
 thank Mr. and Mrs. Brooks from me and tell them how 
 deeply I appreciate their constant kindness. I do hope 
 the sermon on the text from Ecclesiastes, ' ' I said I will 
 be wise but it was far from me," will be published some 
 day. I think it is the most beautiful one I have had! 
 and Miss Lowell, who took care of me an hour yester- 
 day while mamma was out, and read it aloud to me 
 thought it was one of the most beautiful of all It 
 was quite new to her too! I wonder if Paulina remem- 
 bers it? It was preached last, I saw, in September, 1890, 
 and she used to go up for Sunday whenever she could 
 after Mr. Brooks got home. I will keep it for her to 
 see, as you say I may. 
 
 Paulina left feeling rather badly because, tho' so much 
 better, I was still so weak. Since the attack I had on 
 the 30th of August, they have kept me very quiet and 
 tho' it's more than three weeks ago now, I have only twice
 
 54 1893 
 
 got as far as lying on the sofa instead of staying abed. 
 Don't think me very ill by this but they want me to 
 have a real long rest and not to go dancing to the top 
 of the stairs, as you know is my wont, to see if I approve 
 of what people in the dining room are saying. Day be- 
 fore yesterday, I was so much better that mamma let 
 herself be coaxed into lunching with Mrs. Brimmer and 
 brought me home such a gorgeous branch of crimson 
 lilies to put before my picture of Mr. Brooks. It is still 
 at the height of glory today! and the rest of the room 
 is bright with vases full of such flowers as remain from 
 the most beautiful box-full which Mrs. Lodge sent me 
 with a note from Washington. How full of kindness 
 the world is, isn't it? I have been particularly im- 
 pressed by it of late for since Paulina has been gone 
 so many people have offered to come and read to me 
 while mamma went out. Yesterday I had Miss Lowell, 
 and the day before Mrs. Whitman and the day before 
 that Mrs. Dexter. Rather different nurses from the 
 Sairey Gamps and Betsy Priggs of fiction, aren't they? 
 I was so glad to get your long letter and feel for you 
 and with you more than I can say. I can see how bit- 
 terly poor Paulina shrinks from the thought of going 
 back to Boston, which seems empty now, and I scarcely 
 dare let myself think of it, trusting only that as our 
 day so will our strength be! You must come and see 
 me often and often, won't you? and we will try and 
 help each other to see " the star-side " of the sorrow. 
 God bless and comfort you, dearest Gertrude, and give 
 us strength to bear patiently and lovingly all that He 
 sends. 
 
 Always yours most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 24 55 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Tuesday, Oct. 3. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 I can't tell you how much your letter affected me 
 You are always in my prayers and in my thoughts and 
 so bound to me by a thousand ties of memory and asso- 
 ciation that your life seems like a piece of my own. I 
 feel the tug at my heartstrings when you leave Boston 
 and by the time you cross the Rockies the sensation 
 begins to get painful. This sounds a little like Roches- 
 ter and not unlike " Portia or by Passions Rocked " but 
 it's true for all that! I suppose we poor jesters can be 
 fond of each other despite our bells and vari-colored 
 legs? I wonder, by the way, if you know "The Fool's 
 Prayer " if that is the name of it beginning, 
 
 The jester doffed his cap and bells 
 And stood the mocking court before ; 
 They could not see the bitter smile 
 Behind the painted grin he wore. 
 He bowed his head and bent his knee 
 Upon the monarch's silken stool ; 
 His pleading voice uprose " O Lord, 
 Be merciful to me a fool." 
 
 There are two verses in it that I have always taken to 
 heart deeply feeling with shame and remorse how true 
 they were of me, and one 
 
 These clumsy feet still in the mire 
 Go crushing blossoms without end ; 
 These hard well-meaning hands I thrust 
 Among the heartstrings of a friend 
 
 I think of constantly.
 
 56 1893 
 
 You speak of fearing to grow hard and bitter but no 
 one who knows you, even a little, could fear that for 
 you. From the first and always, and more and more 
 every day, I have looked to you as the most tender- 
 hearted and spiritual, one to turn to in time of trouble, 
 sure of comprehension and help and deep unspoken 
 sympathy. "Not everyone that saith; Lord, Lord, 
 shall enter into the Kingdom but he that doeth the 
 will" and when I think of the way in which you 
 have stood by your friends, and faced your troubles, and 
 borne your burdens, I am ashamed and humiliated! If 
 I were half as plucky and unselfish as you are it would 
 have spared my family a great deal of unnecessary anx- 
 iety and distress and by the way, you dear old thing, 
 you are not to go and worry yourself about my health. 
 It does all very well to make a hollow square and cry 
 "Wolf!!!" for the benefit of outsiders (whose names 
 shall be nameless) but you mustn't be taken in by it 
 yourself you who know " old Mother Hubbard's dog " 
 and her tricks and her manners ' ' man and boy these 
 twenty years! " As for your visit doing me harm I 
 have been a great deal better since the first moment I 
 cast eyes on my Boosie! I am to try the sofa -today, an 
 armchair tomorrow and perhaps a trip downstairs at 
 the end of the week. Wednesday next, I believe, they 
 have set on to move me up per carriage and four and 
 after we are safely at home Paulina shall write you. I 
 take my -" meddy " from your china spoon am fanned 
 with the fan you brought me and at off moments con- 
 template the gold rabbit and tray and think of you 
 
 always. I return s letter which I found surprisingly 
 
 sprightly. At the same time I was tempted, as it is
 
 Aet. 24 57 
 
 delicately termed, "to alter the spelling to suit the 
 usages of the present day." 
 
 The jest book has noticeably fattened since your visit 
 and I have sunned myself, socially, in borrowed plumes. 
 "Undertaking's a trade you can't push " I kept for Mr. 
 Higginson's private tooth, knowing it would delight him 
 beyond measure, as it did. 
 
 Here I was interrupted by the entrance of a huge tray 
 bearing Paulina's and my lunch which we have just 
 eaten in deshabille (a la Sairey Gamp) on the bed. 
 Would you had been here to share it! 
 
 Always your loving 
 
 ALICIA. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Friday, the 13th [October]. 
 Dearest Aunt Boosie, 
 
 I was delighted to get your letter and to hear you 
 were really better. As for me, I bore a three hours' 
 
 drive up to town so well that I begin to think 
 
 showed her usual ' ' shrewdness " when she tenderly 
 asked if "our dear Alice were not a malade imagi- 
 naire?" Apropos of "growing girls," I have made 
 two mild jests of the type which Paulina terms " ghoul- 
 sh" but then she and mamma are, at times, singu- 
 larly deficient in humor. 
 
 Well, the other night when I was having rather a 
 tempestuous struggle for breath, I was overcome with
 
 58 1893 
 
 an amusing notion at least it struck me as amusing 
 tho' it did not so appear to my glum companions 
 and that was, ' ' Good recipe for life First catch your 
 breath." The other was apropos of my three long-suf- 
 fering physicians, who having tried all their poisons on 
 me, now simply " hope " I will be more comfortable. I 
 tell mamma that it's a good joke getting in serried ranks 
 of specialists merely to exclaim in chorus, ' ' May good 
 digestion wait on appetite and health on both! " But 
 now to the real subject of my letter which is, of course, 
 Keble. Did you ever see anything so dear, so saintly 
 or so easily amused? (Like the stage peasant who 
 "laughs at such mild jokes that if he ever heard a 
 good one it would kill him " ) and then his having 
 instrumental music when he wrote his sermons and 
 (we presume) sackbut and cymbals during meals. By 
 the way did you read the "Musings" and do you re 
 member Aunt Charlotte's comment and quotation from 
 ' ' Lyra Innocentium " on the First Sunday after Christ- 
 mas? "Assuredly 'showing off' is fatal to the little 
 ones, whose only protection against its evils lies in that 
 shyness which coaxing and flattery endeavor to destroy. 
 Never, perhaps, did the true welfare of children more 
 need that their friends should take home the admonition; 
 
 ' Think of the babes of Judah's royal line ; 
 Display once touched them with her parching glare ; 
 Once, and for ages four they bear the sign ; 
 The fifth beheld them chained in Babel's Lair ' ! ! ! " 
 
 Think of the poor little things being "shown off" once 
 by injudicious friends and having to bear such a hideous 
 and incomprehensible penalty! 
 
 Did you ever read anything more delightfully con-
 
 Aet. 24 59 
 
 fused and like herself than Aunt C's recollections? We 
 decided that she probably thought she moulded her style 
 on St. Paul's Paulina suggested Corinthians " Or," 
 said Nanny, "The Circumcision of Titus " (Galatians, ii). 
 
 By the way your objection to St. Paul is something 
 like President Eliot's insuperable dislike of David 
 who can't read the Psalms on account of the Psalm- 
 ist's love for Bathsheba, and then hies him to a Mormon 
 stronghold to make complimentary allusions to Brigham 
 Young. 
 
 I am re-reading Farrar's "Life of St. Paul," or rather 
 I am having it read to me by mamma, who said it was a 
 relief to her to find that St. Paul really was three years 
 in Arabia before he went up to Jerusalem. James Free- 
 man Clarke had said so but she hadn't believed it. I 
 told her she might have resorted to the simple expedi- 
 ent of consulting St. Paul himself. There are several 
 passages on heathendom and the Hellenic spirit in Far- 
 rar and one particularly bitter and outspoken one on 
 the 24:0th page of the first volume, which I should like 
 to read to the shade of your friend John Addington 
 Symonds. Paulina resumed his ' ' Life of Michelangelo " 
 the other day with the usual expression of resigned de- 
 spair with which one reads that tedious and repulsive 
 folio. She was tired of pointless details as to when he 
 hired his apprentices, she said, and couldn't keep his 
 brothers apart. Who was Buonarotto? Why Simone 
 etc. I told her it would simplify matters if she grasped 
 the first great principle that in Italian families some 
 members went by their first names alone some simply 
 by their middle others by their last, and one at least 
 by his place of residence (or where he saw fit to pay 
 his taxes for the time being): and that it would not con-
 
 60 1893 
 
 fuse the more intelligent of our friends if she, Dickson 
 and I called ourselves for the future simply "Cony," 
 "Smith, "and "West Manchester." "What a fool 
 you can be " I hear you say with that brutal frankness 
 learnt at Hursley Vicarage but I have really no facts 
 to communicate except that Ethel is coming to lunch, 
 that Paulina is entertaining Ellen Hooper below-stairs, 
 and mamma is revelling with her trunks overhead, and 
 
 oh! yes, is to marry her "girlhood's choice " on the 
 
 25th of this very month. Paulina and Mr. Higginson 
 were discussing whether they would be married in the 
 Catholic Cathedral or by a Buddhist Priest when it was 
 suddenly borne in upon me that the ceremony would 
 be performed by Mrs. Piper (Mrs. Drain-Piper as I 
 playfully term her) with her French double there 
 Dr. Phinuit (who talks such bad French) to assist, and 
 a " Planchette " as Maid of Honor. 
 
 As ever your 
 
 "NANCY." 
 
 To MRS. EGBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Saturday, October 14th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Ethel will tell you that barring a strong smell of new 
 paint and varnish and some little natural confusion we 
 are quite comfortably settled at home again, tho' the city 
 seems close and dingy after Manchester and we sorely 
 miss the ocean and our view of sunset and changing 
 trees. What a number of things happen in town be- 
 tween yesterday's stifling heat and today's sirocco we
 
 Aet. 24 61 
 
 indulged in a little amateur garotting or burglary up 
 the street last night. John has just sallied out to dis- 
 cover what it was but it really was quite awful to 
 have the house all roused last night by shrieks and cries 
 for help and police to hear men assembling and run- 
 ning to Charles Street and others stopping before Dr. 
 Nichols' house which was all lighted up. Nathalie thinks 
 it may have been only some drunken woman who may 
 have got hurt in some way and I didn't mean to make 
 a short story so long! 
 
 Paulina's letter told you how much better I was and 
 Dr. Mason, who came again last night, says after a day 
 or two I may try sitting up for a little while and hopes 
 that by Thanksgiving or Christmas if I have no relapse 
 I may get downstairs again I think myself that I shall 
 do so much sooner. 
 
 I am glad on mamma's account that we are at home 
 again. Those six weeks when I was so very ill, wore on 
 her fearfully and she lost seven pounds and still looks 
 poorly, tho' she has been getting better since I have 
 and is much cheered at having the dreaded move so 
 triumphantly over. 
 
 Ethel held out hopes of your coming to see us soon 
 but I wanted to write you myself and today especially. 
 It was on the 14th, wasn't it, two years ago, that Mr. 
 Brooks was consecrated? Somehow the anniversaries, 
 when one can think just of him, are easier to bear than 
 the other days. 
 
 Thank you for the flowers you sent me. I knew you 
 would understand what this return was to us. Paulina 
 and I scarcely dared think of it. It was like facing the 
 bitterness of the first grief only weakened by all these 
 months of loneliness and need, and with less of that
 
 62 1893 
 
 sense of exaltation for his sake that one had while his 
 words and the touch of his hand were still so fresh. 
 Sometimes the dark waters seem to close over one's head 
 and one's very soul seems to faint within one at thought 
 of the dark winter that is coming, but it seems faithless 
 to be discouraged. We need only take one day at a 
 time and I didn't mean to write you such a dreary 
 letter and I know how much harder it is for you, dear 
 Mrs. Paine, who knew him so much better and so much 
 longer and have to face the world and the church and 
 the streets which seem so empty now. 
 
 Ever most affectionately, 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Tuesday, October 17th. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I directed this envelope to you with fear and trem- 
 bling first calling in two domestic specialists in the 
 matter of hand-writing to help me decipher and com- 
 pare the two addresses that you sent me, but except 
 that the Miss Danforth of the first had become " Mrs." 
 and a " W" now preceded the nameless avenue, we none 
 of us could make very much of either. This is rather 
 odd too for I can read the rest of your letters, but when 
 I come to the address whether because it is so arbi- 
 trary a thing or so vital suddenly all my intuitive 
 genius fails me. The moral of which seems to be that 
 we shall have to resort to the simple expedient of print. 
 
 After which biting prelude, I will begin at the begin-
 
 Aet. 24 63 
 
 ning which I believe in the matter of correspondence is 
 supposed to be the writer herself. 
 
 We are back in town, you see, having come up on 
 Wednesday last and the much-dreaded move was accom- 
 plished by me unexpectedly well. For six weeks, you 
 see, I had only been two or three times even as far as 
 from my bed to my sofa, so that the journey was quite 
 an undertaking. The three doctors all thought it better 
 for me to drive up than to have so many changes, espe- 
 cially as I dreaded being lifted in and out of the train 
 and having to submit to be so apparently feeble for all 
 the world to see. So that dear Mr. Higginson lent us 
 two of his fleet steeds and a carriage where I could lie 
 down if necessary, and planned every inch of the way 
 so that we avoided all the big towns the cobble-stones 
 and most of the electric cars and came into Boston very 
 comfortably over Harvard Bridge. Paulina came with 
 me and we really enjoyed ourselves and the perfectly 
 lovely day, and were glad to have a last look at the ocean 
 and the marshes and the changing trees which we felt 
 so badly to leave so soon. Dickson was waiting to carry 
 me upstairs and my room was so full of flowers and 
 fruit and notes and what-not, and so many people had 
 
 been to enquire that I felt a humbug or 's ' ' malade 
 
 imaginaire " I have kept pretty well too so that Dr. 
 Mason lets me sit up a little every day and hopes if I 
 have no bad turn to get me downstairs by "Thanks- 
 giving." I think myself I shall be down much sooner. 
 You must write when you have time and tell me about 
 your work and whether your courage is good but I 
 know it must be and whether you have any interest- 
 ing girls to teach.
 
 64 1893 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Monday the 23rd. 
 My dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I can't let today pass without writing you if only a 
 word or two. The twenty-third and the twenty-sixth 
 of every month seem to shine out with a peculiar sacred- 
 ness and are less sad than the other days to me! They 
 seem to be so full of him that one can't be anything but 
 hopeful and try to take up the burden of life again with 
 new courage not as ' ' those who sorrow without hope; " 
 for " we are not of the night nor of darkness " but are 
 " the children of the light and of the day." 
 
 It doesn't seem natural to have the sky so dark nor 
 to hear the rain dripping on to the roofs, instead of hav- 
 ing the birds and the sunshine, but we have just been 
 brightened by a little call from Mrs. Paine, who brought 
 some beautiful violets which I was glad to have for the 
 vase before my picture. 
 
 The next time you come I must read you some bits 
 out of Mrs. Beaumont's last letter to me after she had 
 heard how poorly I was. It is so beautiful and so like 
 her. We hope to hear again before very long. 
 
 I trust that Mrs. Brooks is a little better notwith- 
 standing the oppressive weather and all the things that 
 must be done with so heavy a heart. Paulina wants 
 me to send you a great deal of love and she is hoping to 
 get down to see you very soon, tho' this week is appall- 
 ingly busy as she looks ahead at all her engagements 
 headed by the dentist's. 
 
 My weeks are never busy and I am always "at home," 
 so when you call and as often as you can you must come
 
 Aet. 24 65 
 
 and listen while I talk that's what a call on me means, 
 I believe, insulting friends have remarked. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Tuesday Morning [October 24]. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I have a feeling that this can't go on and that if you 
 don't appear, I shall have to enter into conversation with 
 you thro' the medium of the penny post. What day 
 was it you were here? At all events, it seems a long 
 time ago and I had hopes you would turn up yesterday 
 from a kind of instinct as it was a Monday, or rather I 
 had hopes till I saw what a disconsolate, dreary day it 
 was going to be! 
 
 I was just ill enough Sunday night and yesterday to 
 come up beautifully today on the system of the well- 
 bucket, which plays a prominent part among the doc- 
 tor's similes and I shall be sitting up in a little while 
 clothed and in my right mind, as I did last Thursday 
 most triumphantly for quite two hours! It was an idea 
 of my own to get me in good training for going down- 
 stairs when the time comes. It might be pretty soon if 
 I would let myself to be carried up and downstairs, but 
 I have rather shrunk from the idea of leaving this haven 
 quite yet. I feel as if I wanted a little time to gather 
 my courage before facing the same old life which is so 
 different! Yesterday was the twenty- third, and it came 
 on Monday as it did that dark morning nine months ago, 
 when it seemed as if all the smaller griefs and burdens 
 were quite swallowed up in that great one, and as if we
 
 66 1893 
 
 could never be anything but pure and unselfish and 
 brave till one went to join him! The day when it 
 comes back always seems to help me to make a new 
 start. Have you read "Whole Views of Life " in the 
 new volume of sermons? It is perfectly beautiful. 
 
 Yours most lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 BOSTON, 
 
 Friday, October 27th. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 By this time of course you have assumed the conven- 
 tional spread-eagle attitude before the peristyle! and 
 with patriotic pride sniffed the tainted air of the ma- 
 chinery building. We were awfully glad to hear you 
 were going to see it all, tho' you did have to leave New 
 York and your friends and your surprising racketings 
 there. It will at least break your journey west and 
 enable you to converse intelligently with your com- 
 patriots for the next few years to come! Did we tell 
 you what Mrs. Whitman said of the Art Building? that 
 it was like a beautiful woman and then when you 
 thought of the wings having been added it was like a 
 beautiful woman opening her arms! Isn't that cunning 
 and Whitmanesque? 
 
 And now to business! I hope you won't think my 
 silence and my snippety notes by proxy is a sample of 
 the way I am going to act this winter because they are 
 not at all. I knew how busy you were and the times 
 when I could have caught you on the wing, so to speak,
 
 Aet. 24 67 
 
 the fates were agin me. People dropped in to see me 
 and there were notes to write and more housekeeping 
 problems than usual with moving and a new Swede in 
 the kitchen, who doesn't understand " English as she is 
 spoke " used Soy in her soups and couldn't find the 
 dark nooks where we keep our vegetables "and ga! 
 ga! " said the Grey Goose haven't you kept house 
 yourself? Then this week I have been some feeble 
 after having my hair washed, but had planned Saturday 
 morning to get my strength and write to my Boosie and 
 generally keep sacred, when last night Dr. Mason selects 
 that very particular time for a long seance with him and 
 his stethoscope. Having it put on for a few minutes I 
 don't mind at all, but when I have to sit up and have 
 people knock and listen at my left shoulder and take 
 long breaths and sing high C, I am pretty well tired out. 
 He is very much encouraged about me, chiefly on account 
 of the marvellous vigor I show in coming up after those 
 bad ' ' leaking spells, " and hopes that by Christmas I 
 will be able to get downstairs again on my own legs 
 even tho' I utterly refuse to even think of his pet scheme 
 of a nurse to bully me days and sit up with me nights, 
 to prevent my doing anything when I want to and to 
 insist on my doing things when I don't ! Ha! ha! do 
 they think to bind this child of impulse not so. Per- 
 haps you would like to know just what he says ails me 
 once for all of course prefacing our remarks with the 
 well-known truth, that people with damaged vitals usu- 
 ally get along much better and stick it out longer than 
 their, sounder and less fortunate neighbors. The heart 
 appears in the first place to be of a weak and palpitating 
 order with an awkward inclination to slow up and stop 
 at any ordinary sign of fatigue in its owner it also in-
 
 68 1893 
 
 dulges at times in attacks of bad valvular affection, at 
 which times it becomes dangerous to move. The con- 
 stant pain is less serious, being neuralgic affection of 
 the nerves about the heart, caused by the same inability 
 of the heart to do its work, and that produces the ' ' an- 
 gina pectoris " which in all medical propriety I have no 
 business to have at my age and there's an end of these 
 horrid pathological details once and forever ! I am really 
 so much better that I scarcely know myself have been 
 dressed twice and see no reason why I shan't be able to 
 resume my old manners of existence shortly coming 
 down at tea time and seeing one or two best friends a 
 day. As for my figurative heart the heart with which 
 I love my Boosie that beats regular and strong but 
 wouldn't Hursley Vicarage dub this "coarse"? Dear 
 Aunt Charlotte, I "muse" with her constantly and quite 
 resented the "Spectator's" remarking that Seldon's sen- 
 sible remarks on tithes would do good to certain fanati- 
 cal talkers on that subject. It is from the " Spectator " 
 you know that I pick up little scraps of information on 
 subjects this side the flood; and in it we saw the other 
 day, that they thought they had discovered (from a 
 cipher letter of Louis XIV) that Gen. Bourlande was 
 ' ' the Man in the Iron Mask " and not the ' ' Author of 
 the Junius Letters " as I had fondly conceived on the 
 general principle that one enigma cancels another. 
 
 By the way I forgot to ask you apropos of the ' ' Spec- 
 tator " whether " Punch " would be any solace and if I 
 should order it for you say as a Christmas Gift? Tell 
 me frankly, won't you? The idea just occurred to me 
 that tho' rather drivelling, the political pictures are good
 
 Aet. 24 69 
 
 and it comes often and regular and can be looked at or 
 not as one's humor suits. 
 
 What a long letter and all to tell you that I love you 
 fond and think of you always 
 
 Your 
 
 " NANNY." 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 Thursday, November 2nd. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 Mrs. Dexter and Anna Amory took a cup of tea with 
 me Tuesday and yesterday Elinor and then Mrs. Whit- 
 man who was coming as usual. Among other things 
 she told us that Burne- Jones' " Love Among the Ruins" 
 had been purchased by some one who, as she said, "loved 
 it fond" and paid highly, and had then with B.J.'s per- 
 mission sent it to some firm in Paris to be engraved. 
 They took it for one of the modern oils and applied 
 white of egg which neither hurts an oil " nor yet the 
 hen " when lo, and behold, the whole picture disappeared 
 in a smutch before their eyes; " and so," said Mrs. Whit- 
 man, ' ' there is no more a Love among the Euins." ' ' In 
 fact," said Nanny, "it has become a mariage de conve- 
 nance." Speaking of the Gallic tongue, did I tell you 
 what a blow my vanity had received? After writing 
 half a dozen letters this year and more, to Madame 
 Couder of which the stock in trade might have been 
 said to have been Mademoiselle Constance and M. Au- 
 guste Gardner, both of whom she knew indeed she 
 used to speak of him as " un blond Americain " rather
 
 70 1893 
 
 to my patriotic disgust Well, having retailed their 
 " ndces," their winter in " La belle France," their house 
 in Hamilton, " quelques lieux de Manchester," imagine 
 my sensations when in her last letter, she ingenuously 
 asked if Mademoiselle Constance were not yet married! 
 I felt like the man who said, "but we mustn't quote 
 before so accomplished a Latin scholar as Sir Richard 
 Bethel," at which Bethel looked up quickly and re- 
 marked, "I thought my honorable friend was quoting 
 from some Welsh author." 
 
 By the way, Mrs. Whitman told us rather a cunning 
 tale apropos of a suburban bag she carried, and in return 
 for "I go to Salem evenings" but perhaps you have 
 heard it? She said to her butcher, "Crawford, where 
 do you live," to which Crawford replied, "I live in 
 Brighton but I have my social privileges in Newton " ! ! ! 
 Speaking of the suburbs, Dickson, who feels that three 
 babies are almost too much of an "impogition," not "on 
 the nuss " but Mrs. Walcott, is thinking of setting up 
 his own vine and fig-tree in Milton or elsewhere in the 
 spring. I suggested that he might call his new home 
 " The Warren " and rechange his name into "Mr. Cony- 
 Smith," an idea just abusive enough to delight him be- 
 yond measure. I have now told you about all the mem- 
 bers of the family except the most energetic, the most 
 useful and the most important. She and "Hamlet" 
 are at present prancing about the town doing the mar- 
 keting, the shopping and making the necessary calls. 
 Not satisfied with her duties as nurse, keeper, upper 
 housemaid and menagerie tender, she has started to hem- 
 stitch a handkerchief for Mr. Higginson's birthday on 
 the 18th, and to knit him a pair of silk socks for Christ- 
 mas, so that we tell her she varies between ' ' seamstresses
 
 Aet. 25 Tl 
 
 arm " and "knitter's elbow " and wears always a kind of 
 feverish " work while it is called a week-day for Sunday 
 cometh " expression which pains her jealous and exact- 
 ing family. She is at present maliciously amused by 
 the fact that since "Repeal" stocks have gone down. 
 As for me I am like John Ruskin, who during the Gor- 
 don excitement mildly pricked up his ears and inquired 
 " Who is the Soudan? " All this sounds very heartless 
 and flippant, when I am really most anxious to hear how 
 you got thro' the journey and how you were at Chicago 
 Write when you are rested and not before. I am 
 waiting till you have had time to settle a little before 
 sending you the "Sermons" and Mrs. Foster a photo- 
 graph of Mr. Brooks's study which she said she would 
 like. Kingsley still tarries. I don't see why. Keep a 
 stout heart, dear old girl, and don't forget 
 
 Your most loving 
 
 "NANCY." 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Begun Friday, November 10th. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 " Birthdays? yes in a general way for the most if not 
 for the best of men " and Martin Luther, Shelley and 
 I chose this rather grim date for putting in an appear- 
 ance on this troublous globe Figurez vous I am abso- 
 lutely twenty five years old and I naturally turn to my 
 Aunt Boosie for sympathy, knowing that she too has 
 touched that high water mark and survived it. You 
 will be twenty six on January 17th is it? (My mind is 
 going, you see) but twenty six is mere child's play com- 
 pared to quarter of a century! Perhaps that is why I
 
 72 1893 
 
 feel so like ' ' She " this morning and have risen haggard 
 and whitehaired from my couch. As I told mamma 
 and Paulina this morning after a heavy dose of brandy 
 anybody could wish me a happy return of the day 
 but not of the night. One must draw the line some- 
 where and after taking a week to recover from a simi- 
 lar vigil Thursday last, to have another night just like 
 it without rhyme or reason revolts my high spirit. I 
 ought not to be writing you now, but I wanted just to 
 tell you how rejoiced I was to get your Colorado note 
 and to think of you as not safely at your journey's end 
 (and I shan't be quite comfortable till you are) but 
 nearing it. I have been trying to fancy you this week 
 as settling in and resting and with homeward turning 
 thoughts the out journey over. Dear Bessie, I do love 
 you so and if we are called on to go thro' life with the 
 burden of "as dying and behold we live," perhaps we 
 may earlier come to understand the ' ' sorrowful yet 
 always rejoicing, the having nothing and yet possessing 
 all things." I wanted to put the verse in Romans about 
 "tribulation worketh patience and patience experience 
 and experience hope " under your name in the last vol- 
 ume of Sermons, only I felt that you knew all that so 
 much better than I and what was only vague sentiment 
 with me was stern reality to you! By the way, I hope 
 the Sermons reached you safely? I sent them and the 
 photograph Monday, but to my Cranfordian and untrav- 
 elled mind, addressing a helpless parcel to so far away 
 seems like casting one's bread upon the waters only 
 
 more so 
 
 Nov. llth. 
 
 Just about at the end of the last page I gave up the 
 struggle had a bad turn or so and sent for the Doctor
 
 Aet. 25 73 
 
 who arrived on his pet hobby (the idea of a night-nurse), 
 gave me something powerful to take every two hours, 
 and is going to look in early this morning, when he will 
 not find the bird, if not exactly flown, still comfortably 
 " as usual." I wish you had seen the flowers I got yes- 
 terday! beginning with bouquets from Ethel and from 
 Ellen Hooper and ending up with a great box from Con- 
 stance full of violets and lilies-of -the- valley and maiden 
 hair a box which came too late to be opened. There 
 are sixteen vases full of them, and all the tables in this 
 part of the house have had to be put in requisition to 
 stand them on while your photograph looks down at 
 me from the mantel-piece over a perfect bed of migno- 
 nette and pinks. This is what comes of trying to keep 
 one's birthday buried in oblivion a prophetic instinct 
 seems to have stirred the community including Anna 
 Amory and Pauline Bancroft. Mrs. Dexter had no 
 idea of its being my birthday, but appeared in the after- 
 noon with a sweet table-cover for me and a box of choco- 
 lates from Mr. Dexter and a little later came Mrs. Whit- 
 man, equally ignorant, but bearing a floral tribute or 
 to quote the mysterious stucco motto above her door 
 11 Lilia manibus plenis" 
 
 Speaking of letters, your sprightly epistle from Chi- 
 cago amused me much! Besides riding on Camels, at- 
 tending Turkish improprieties and gathering in witty 
 and profane anecdotes, did you go to see Buffalo Bill and 
 Hagenbeck, tamer of beasts? The latter by the way (so 
 Dr. Eliot told Mrs. Higginson) is a very pleasant nice 
 young fellow, but a little inclined to drink more than is 
 good for him ("the fault of many a good man, Miss 
 Alice," as our old Julia says) but a fault which Mrs.
 
 74 1893 
 
 Hagenbeck does not apparently pardon so easily. Being 
 very much intoxicated one evening, he preferred reeling 
 down to sleep among his animals to facing his wife, who 
 became anxious toward morning went out to look him 
 up and finally found him in the "larger cat" cage asleep 
 with his body against a lion and his feet on the trained 
 tiger when she called out to him bitterly from between 
 the bars " You coward! " One, I should judge, of the 
 class called moral! 
 
 We were nicely beaten at the polls Tuesday weren't 
 we? Mr. John Russell said he expected a defeat but 
 not an avalanche, but we lay it to the fact that he didn't 
 write a companion letter to Mr. Greenhalge's (did you 
 see it " I have always worked for my bread I have 
 never corrupted a voter or travelled in Europe " and 
 that style of thing) in which he could have said " These 
 whiskers are dyed with home dyes no Tyrean purple 
 etc." but perhaps you don't know that delightful man 
 and have never cast a suspicious eye upon those whis- 
 kers. So you scorn the idea of ' ' Punch " ? I shall have 
 to fall back on Aunt Charlotte's "Monthly Packet." 
 By the way wasn't it a little coarse of the Kebles to 
 drive "a flea-bitten grey," even tho' he was coyly if 
 vaguely called "Strawberry" This whole anecdote 
 might I don't say would but might be called point- 
 less in another, which reminds me of a remark of Arch- 
 bishop Whately's I saw the other day which struck 
 me as a delightful description of random talkers that 
 "They aim at nothing and they hit it." There's a "Life 
 of Pusey" out but I'm not as Tractarian as you are and 
 so shan't read it, but the " Life of Stanley " I shall, tho' 
 I don't know how good it is going to be. I remember
 
 Aet. 25 75 
 
 Mr. Brooks's telling us how it had been given first to 
 one person to write and then to another, and finally the 
 last one had written so fully that at the end of the first 
 folio he had got the Dean up to a boy of twelve or 
 so, when the publishers proposed that there should be 
 two distinct works the "Life of Dean Stanley" and 
 the " Boyhood of Dean Stanley." 
 
 His life of Arnold is fine, isn't it? and do you wonder 
 that Arnold and Keble looked at things from rather dif- 
 ferent points of view? Its a pity all those dear men 
 spent so much time bickering among one another, isn't 
 it? When you do get Kingsley (if ever) you will 
 see the truth in that man's remark that Kingsley spent 
 his life in a strange crusade against celibacy a danger 
 which to others did not seem imminent as far as the 
 ordinary Englishman was concerned. Have you seen 
 "Lowell's Letters" edited by your friend Mr. Norton? 
 because do try to get them if you haven't. They are 
 perfectly delightful and as bright and charming as 
 possible. 
 
 There, do you think I could with honesty tell my 
 family I had enclosed a handkerchief to you to account 
 for the fatness of this letter? At all events you are 
 supplied with light literature (?) for some time to come! 
 
 Your loving 
 
 SNAP. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Saturday Eve. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 We did not hear till noon today of Ted Cabot's death 
 which was weighing on your heart perhaps when you
 
 76 1893 
 
 were here yesterday? He had fought a good fight and 
 it was a merciful release, of course, after a long captiv- 
 ity; but however much expected and longed-for by the 
 watchers, death always comes like a shock somehow 
 a solemn fresh thing out of the darkness and mystery 
 with the silence after it which says more than words 
 It must touch you nearly thro' his mother It will 
 touch a great many I know for every one liked him and 
 respected him that knew him at all. Little as I knew 
 him, I have felt all day that sense of having lost another 
 link that bound my present to my past. 
 
 Mamma is mending rapidly and hopes to be down- 
 stairs tomorrow and I am almost comfortable "as 
 usual" again, tho' Dr. Mason assures me cheerfully 
 that I am not so well as I think. The next best thing 
 however to being better is to feel so! 
 
 I didn't thank you half enough for the table-cover 
 which makes my whole room a different place and 
 please give my thanks and the whole family's to Mr. 
 Dexter for the candy. 
 
 Always your affectionate 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Wednesday Evening. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I was much relieved to hear from you this morning, as 
 I had begun to fear you might not be well and Paulina 
 had her hands so full with mamma still upstairs and 
 me so ill that she hasn't been able to get down to in- 
 quire about you all. Now however she hopes to do so
 
 Aet. 25 77 
 
 soon, as I am getting better of the last bad turn and 
 mamma is up and out really rested we hope by her 
 fortnight of rest and novel reading. There is always 
 some insuperable obstacle when we don't some of us 
 come down, you may be sure, for we think of you con- 
 stantly with aching hearts. I know what you mean 
 about dreading the anniversaries which come so thick 
 and fast upon one now, but somehow as they come don't 
 you find them so full of him that they are helps some- 
 how like shining steps leading up thro' the darkness. 
 And when one's mind is full of one subject, even tho' it 
 is an overwhelming grief, it is pleasant to be able to live 
 in the old memories again. I was looking at a little 
 memorandum book of mine and saw that a year ago 
 yesterday Mr. Brooks dined here with us at a "young 
 dinner " (I remember how he would set the earliest date 
 and kept asking if the young people wouldn't be disap- 
 pointed to see him) and I had put down too how he 
 stayed till twenty minutes past eleven, long after every 
 one else had gone. It all came back so clearly and other 
 times like it times when we got up out of bed and 
 dressed again to see him. 
 
 It all makes up so much of one's life that it can't be 
 merely the past but has grown into one's soul of souls. 
 
 Miss Lowell was here this morning and tells me that 
 the "Letters" are out today. Mamma ordered them 
 for me and I am looking forward to them so much! 
 She told me too that your sister Susie had been quite 
 ill with her share of the family cold but that she was 
 better again and out. Do take care of yours, won't 
 you? 
 
 Always your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 78 1893 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 Monday Morning, Nov. 20. 
 My dearest Bessie, 
 
 Your letter has just this moment come, and imagine 
 my delight at hearing from you at last, mingled with 
 my speechless fury when I learnt that you hadn't got 
 the lengthy epistle I wrote November 2nd, timing it, as 
 I thought, so that it would reach Santa Barbara before 
 you did and serve if not for a welcome, at least as a 
 proof that I was thinking of you. Paulina who read 
 your letter was overcome with guilty consciousness, 
 which she tried in vain to conceal with a laugh as 
 she stamps the letters downstairs before carrying them 
 out to the mail and, tho' she can't remember this par- 
 ticular one, thinks it probable that the stamp may have 
 been put on hastily enough to glide off. So much for 
 righteous indignation! but a kept over letter is like 
 champagne opened the night before last. I hope the 
 others will go straighter. I wrote you again on the 
 llth (I am ashamed to think of the fatness of those last 
 ones two stamps apiece) and again on the 18th this 
 very Saturday so I have no business to be writing 
 now. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman was here yesterday and again alluded 
 to the "unicorn" which this time predominated over 
 the lion in the English character. I had before, by com- 
 parative philology, decided that in her vocabulary it 
 stood for America, but now it comes out in new colors 
 as a kind of ' ' dual personality. " She was more charm- 
 ing than ever yesterday, if possible, and I am getting so
 
 Aet. 25 79 
 
 that I get quite gloomy and distrait when I don't see 
 her for four or five days. I begin to think it common- 
 place not to have a language of one's own too, and 
 a singular cut to one's clothes, and a green cape and 
 pointed hat which makes one look as if " one's broom- 
 stick waited" in the vestibule. Constance says Mrs. 
 Palfrey met Mrs. Whitman in a shop in Salem where 
 they sold turned-wooden things and Mrs. Whitman 
 came up to her with a small common or garden wooden 
 box remarking, ' ' A box like this makes me cry like a 
 child " It sounded eminently probable! 
 
 I can't tell you how nice it is to think of you so com- 
 fortably and pleasantly situated live-stock and palm 
 trees included, and if you don't hear from me at least 
 every ten days blame the mail, the postman, the execu- 
 tive, anything but 
 
 Your devoted and affectionate 
 
 ALICIA. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 [Nov. 21.] 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 My dear book of letters has just come, and when I 
 opened it at random, it was at the description of that 
 visit to Tennyson which recalled the time when he told 
 me about it and the time too last spring when Paulina 
 and I came to get comfort and sympathy from you and 
 Mrs. Brooks and you read that letter to us! So much 
 happiness as you had in being what you were to him 
 can never be a past happiness but always a present one 
 an afterglow to last you and brighten all life for you. 
 None of us who knew him ever so little, it seems to me, 
 could have a sad life. It was, as Mr. Harry Lee told
 
 80 1893 
 
 mamma, not necessary that Mr. Brooks should talk of 
 Heaven. No one who had even seen him could doubt 
 it. 
 
 I always feel after you leave me as if I had not begun 
 to say half of what I wanted to. 
 
 Don't answer this, dear Gertrude. It is only to say 
 
 goodnight and God bless you. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Tuesday Evening. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [Nov. 23.] 
 
 Thursday Morning. 
 My own dearest Ethel, 
 
 I shan't tell you how humiliated I was by your sweet 
 letter, but take it for granted as you suggest that 
 our brutal frankness about other people's social duties 
 a subject on which we are totally ignorant of course 
 was really a mark of Christian kindness, tho' at first 
 sight it might appear to savor slightly of taking the 
 mote out of our brother's eye with all that lack of sym- 
 pathy and fellow-feeling that becomes a person with a 
 beam in his own. As for the rest of your letter, I think 
 it is one of the most disheartening experiences to all of 
 us to see how little our lives match our own convictions 
 to find ourselves capable of the most glorious visions 
 and resolutions at one moment and the next biting our 
 families' heads off talking meanly and basely of our 
 neighbors' motives and struggles, or upset for the day 
 because the fire went out before breakfast ! Such knocks 
 on the hard realities of our own faults and weakness are 
 good for our spiritual pride however discouraging and
 
 Aet. 25 81 
 
 prove, if it needed proving, that ' ' we have not wings, 
 we cannot soar, but we have feet to scale and climb," 
 and alas! to kick out at climbing friends with, at leisure 
 moments! 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 "Thanksgiving Day." 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 I don't want to let November pass without writing 
 you, tho' when I send my dubiously addressed envelopes 
 to the mail I feel as tho' I were casting my bread upon 
 the waters to be returned to me after many days first 
 having been perused by the post-office officials. I trust 
 your silence only means your chronic state of breathless 
 haste and occupation in running after lost time, for 
 which I can forgive you most readily, and not that you 
 have been ill or too hard- worked, nor anxious or worried 
 about anything, nor discouraged generally? If you have 
 been and I don't know of it you must lay it to my being 
 necessarily ignorant of a great deal that comes to my 
 friends and not to lack of affection, won't you? You 
 see I know no one that can tell me of you! 
 
 The dear boy [Bay Lodge] dined here last night on 
 the remains of Paulina's Sewing Circle which came off 
 yesterday I don't mean that he eat the work or the 
 maidens' bones, tho' it looks as tho' I did. What a 
 relief it is to have those dubious festivities in the past! 
 The day before I lay covered with Sybilline Leaves pro-
 
 82 1893 
 
 saically directed to Weber's and the markets and feeling 
 as if I were doing a sum in algebra which dealt entirely 
 with unknown quantities haunted on one side by a 
 vision of forty girls turned hungry from our doors, and 
 on the other by an equally distressing picture of the 
 family living for the rest of their natural days on chicken 
 creamed with rice and fish croquettes. However it seems 
 to have been a brilliant success Eleanor Appleton sung 
 for them after lunch and I had a little private reception 
 of Constance and Bella and Ellen upstairs, where I found 
 myself surrounded by violets and pinks which the dear 
 children brought me! Indeed what with one thing and 
 another these last ten days have been very full for 
 Paulina and I are really only the active and passive 
 moods of the same verb so that her gaieties are mine 
 too. 
 
 A day or two before the weddings and the Blake fes- 
 tivity (when we had retired to bed after the fatiguing 
 gaiety of a Mt. Vernon St. day), a letter came over from 
 Mrs. Whitman begging Paulina to drink tea in her stu- 
 dio with a Russian Princess of unpronounceable name 
 and to bring Bay with her, which she accordingly did. 
 She had a lovely time, as she always does when she can 
 see Mrs. Whitman and Ellen and Mr. Hooper and Mr. 
 Brimmer (the last mostly from afar) and was introduced 
 to Mme. Bourget, who is such a lovely-looking creature, 
 and to Mme. Blanc being presented to the last as a 
 "typical American girl," which had at least the advan- 
 tage of enabling her to stick to her native tongue. As 
 for the Princess I tell Paulina she is so unused to 
 potentates that she expected a tinsel crown and asked 
 Mrs. Whitman where she was? not suspecting that a
 
 Aet. 25 83 
 
 small dowdy woman (close to her) dressed in black and 
 with her hair coming down could have so long a name! 
 Mr. Hooper said he had discovered that a prince in 
 Russia corresponded with a justice of the peace; and 
 that they learnt all the languages in the fond hope of 
 escaping from their native land! Mamma inquires at 
 intervals in a satirical manner if I am writing a letter? 
 It does seem to have grown rather but will do so no 
 more but get itself signed 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 ALICE WBSTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Begun Monday, Dec. llth. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 " Now's the day and now's the hour " which is a 
 poetical way of saying that I'm going to begin a letter 
 to you, tho' the time is short and I am lying in the midst 
 of chaos Hamlet casting sheeps-eyes at " Valentina" 
 who with three account-books, letters, lists and so on 
 decorate my bed "The Judge" taking an unneces- 
 sarily showery bath in the middle distance and Paulina 
 surrounded by immense paste board boxes in the fore- 
 ground, having apparently just waked up this morning 
 to the hideous proximity of Christmas, and having in 
 consequence loudly demanded a pair of scissors, some- 
 thing round and all the chamois skin the house afforded. 
 Can it be possible that she is going to present that 
 original gift, a penwiper, to such friends as don't have 
 Hamlet's picture as a Christmas card? Speaking of 
 Hamlet he attended ' ' Aunt Sarah Whitman's " fair at 
 Trinity the other day and won himself much renown
 
 84 1893 
 
 by performing for cookies, but all social triumphs are 
 forgotten in the gloom cast on him by the threatened 
 arrival of a black feline rival whom I wish to call 
 ' ' Mewt " giving it the full benefit of the mew (to quote 
 
 our former friend ). I tell Paulina that with a black 
 
 cat and a black dog we shall look like an undertaking 
 establishment with the birds of course to attend Chi- 
 nese funerals which reminds me of a gruesome anec- 
 dote about a man who, on being asked what he was 
 making, said, "a coffin for Number 42." " But," said 
 his friend, "42 ain't dead yet." "No, but the doctor 
 told me and he knows what he gi'n him." 
 
 Oh, I must tell you the most delightful thing about 
 the Russian Prince Volkonsky. After a three weeks' 
 visit at " Shady Hill," he inquired during a lecture he 
 gave to young America at Memorial Hall, " But why 
 will you all chew gum? " rather a good joke on his An- 
 glomaniac, Phil-Hellenic Norton hosts, n'est-ce pas? 
 
 Your letter of the 2nd came Saturday and I picture 
 you now stalking the wild duck thro' marshy spots and 
 am rather glad not to be with you when armed with 
 anything that might go off in any and all directions. 
 We shall certainly get and devour anything written by 
 Hughes about the publisher of "our set" Imagine 
 my sensations the other day when Mrs. Charles Dalton 
 told me that she had been artlessly singing the praises 
 of Aunt Charlotte with the usual fervor to a friend who 
 remarked " That it was all very well but she knew Miss 
 Yonge's niece one brought up by her and she quite 
 detested her aunt!! said she was narrow!! set!! always 
 making every one do just what she thought the thing!! 
 bigotted!! etc." but the paper shows an inclination to 
 burn up like a scroll at the mere repetition of these
 
 Aet. 25 85 
 
 words. Perhaps she resembles Miss Jane Mohun in 
 her treatment of Gillian (who I always thought needed 
 looking after, with that horrid taint in her blood, which 
 led her under cover of reading the ' ' Lyra Innocentium " 
 in the garden, to whisper thro' the iron fence with the 
 White youth.) 
 
 The Hoopers are educating us in a great many ways 
 at least into a knowledge of our dense ignorance on 
 every subject, except possibly the domestic life of a 
 few men influenced by the Tractarian Movement. The 
 house holds at the moment a lot of photographs of 
 Michelangelo's things which Mr. Hooper sent in and a 
 book of his mother's poems (just printed for the family 
 I wonder if you ever have happened to have heard 
 any of them Miss Lowell read me a good many last 
 summer) which are perfectly beautiful. Then last week 
 Ellen brought me in a lot of her father's collection of 
 William Blake, which affected me to such an extent that 
 sulphonal proved powerless and I lay awake a good part 
 of the night, staring into a darkness which served as 
 a good background for his tremendous conceptions of 
 life and death resurrection into eternal youth weird 
 attitudes and gorgeous color. 
 
 Here I was interrupted by a call first from Helen 
 Storrow and her baby (you know the spinster aunt 
 has a sneaking fondness for babies and their outside 
 wraps mingled with awe) and then Mrs. Henley Luce 
 who was as sprightly as usual and has just gone leav- 
 ing me half an hour before lunch to finish this letter. 
 
 Your devoted correspondent, 
 
 SNAP.
 
 86 1893 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Wednesday Evening. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Tea is over and dinner too and as I lie here alone be- 
 fore mamma comes up, I feel that it is a happy moment 
 to write you a line. You can think of me with the fire- 
 light playing over our beautiful " Blake," and the two 
 birds with their capes over their cages sitting side by 
 side on the table below. "Hamlet" has just rushed 
 in inspected me with a sniff of disappointment and 
 rushed off again on a vain search for his Aunt Paulina, 
 who has gone to spend the night at the Hoopers so as 
 to the more easily attend Mabel's party. Tomorrow 
 Loulie spends the night here to go to Bella Curtis's 
 Sociable and Joe Lee is to dine with her. 
 
 I am running on in my usual irrelevant way but that 
 will convince you that this is not a forgery better than 
 half a dozen signatures. 
 
 I was very stupid the other day and I didn't even find 
 out when you were going back nor a thousand things 
 that I thought of when the door shut on you and it was 
 too late. Do you have rooms all to yourself and how 
 many of your fellow teachers live at Mrs. Danforth's? 
 At least I can fancy a room made beautiful with a copy 
 of " the Morning Stars." I trust, dear, you left them 
 all well at home and carried a less burdened and wounded 
 heart away with you than in the fall. Sometime when 
 you have plenty of time and feel like it, you must write 
 and tell me about yourself and as many of your troubles 
 and perplexities as it helps you or is possible to
 
 Aet. 25 87 
 
 speak of. However if you don't, you know how much 
 I always feel with you and that I am always 
 
 Your affectionate friend, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Sunday Afternoon, 
 
 December 17th. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 By the time you get this, Christmas will have come 
 and gone but I am going to write a line for all that to 
 tell you how much all our thoughts are with you all 
 at this season most especially. There isn't a day I don't 
 think of you, dear old girl, and this afternoon as I lie 
 here with the firelight playing among my Penates, I 
 could cry with longing to see you and share some of my 
 blessings with you not material ones, but associations 
 and a path lying among old familiar fields. It is a com- 
 fort sometimes to think that our lots are chosen for us 
 and that we learn to love God for our own sunshine that 
 we may trust him for what seems all shadow in other 
 people's lives. We need all our faith and hope this 
 winter in the midst of these hard times, where hunger 
 and cold are brought close home to one and where there 
 seems to be so much illness and grief every where 
 with our guide and comforter gone too from among us 
 and the wilderness to cross alone. I don't know what 
 makes me write so gloomy a letter when I meant to tell 
 you how the days which we dreaded so bitterly and 
 which when I thought of for Paulina made my very soul 
 faint have brought their own strength and brightness 
 with them . It isn't so hard for me lying at home here
 
 88 1893 
 
 and not having to face strangers, nor pass the house on 
 the way to church (which is in a way the saddest of all); 
 but Paulina is a brave little thing and takes up her old 
 duties and goes ahead and finds comfort in many things. 
 Her Sunday School Class and her boys and their fami- 
 lies ( one of whom, by the way, has just come by the 
 help of a few weeks' coal and food thro' a very near 
 pinch and who thro' her exertions got a place yesterday 
 to our great delight ) are a great source of interest 
 and seeing so much of the Hoopers and Higginsons helps 
 her over many a hard place. Music and pictures are a 
 great deal more to her than they used to be and the 
 " Symphonies " are become a kind of church, she says. 
 I feel that, myself, at least about pictures ( music 
 I get little of in my bed as you can imagine ) and very 
 strongly about Nature, as if I had found the key to what 
 had been locked before. The sky and stars, when I was 
 alone, used to give me a sense of remoteness and lone- 
 liness where now it is just peace and an answer not 
 understood but sufficient to all my problems. I don't 
 know what I should have done without my sunsets, or 
 rather the afterglow, that I got from my windows last 
 summer and the light on the sea. It was like reading 
 the " Eye hath not seen nor ear heard " made visible. 
 Wednesday last, the 13th, was Mr. Brooks's birthday 
 and Mrs. Whitman sent me the most beautiful amber 
 drop the shape is what they call an ecclesiastical oval 
 I believe with "My heart watcheth," or rather " Cor 
 meum vigilat," marked on it, and a little thin gold chain 
 to fasten it round my neck, so that I can wear it day and 
 night as a talisman against despair or discouragement 
 and the evil eye generally It is really perfectly beau- 
 tiful and "The Venerable Bead," as it is fondly called,
 
 Aet. 25 89 
 
 has much increased the attentions of my friends, who 
 come to call on it rather than on me. Mrs. Whitman 
 is as devoted as ever, and finds time to run in and cheer 
 me up in the midst of all her pursuit after lost time, or 
 to write or send me Post-Flood literature (I personally 
 read only ante-Noah folios you know) when she can't 
 come in person. By the way, I am really a great deal 
 better sit up dressed two hours a day and hope to get 
 downstairs shortly the day after Christmas I believe 
 has been set as a Child's Party including a Christmas 
 tree (trimmed by Paulina and Elinor) and Santa Claus 
 (represented by that nice obliging Bella), which is not 
 considered a favorable opportunity for the debut of a tot- 
 tering invalid. I shall write again however before that 
 and tell you some anecdotes I have been saving up for 
 you and also the joy your zenana band and other jests 
 caused us! That sprightly letter came Saturday after 
 I had sent your " Kingsley " and a sermon to Mrs. 
 Foster which I hope came safely to hand? Please 
 give my love to Mrs. Foster and tell her how much we 
 all think of you all always. Paulina is at the Hig- 
 ginson's or she would send hers to you, dear Boosie, 
 
 Your 
 
 ''SNAP. " 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Begun Tuesday, Dec. 19th. 
 Ended Thursday, the 21st. 
 My own dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 What's the use of saying I won't write you, when I 
 can no more help it than the drunkard can help instinc- 
 tively longing for his dram and it is growing on me!
 
 90 1893 
 
 The busier and tireder I am, the more strenuously I de- 
 mand pen, ink, and paper. Here it is, not ten o'clock 
 of a snowy morning in Christmas week my market- 
 ing lists just made out my meals not ordered and a 
 near prospect of Christmas gees to see done up and 
 directed. Ellen Hooper has just made me a short call 
 to discuss matrimonial prospects in general and has 
 now gone with Paulina up to Ethel's to gather the 
 latest intelligence. 
 
 As for Paulina, she says there is matrimonial electri- 
 city in the very air ( even on the hill! ) snaps apples 
 and, I tell her, is like an excitable maid servant who 
 sees shrouds in the candles and wedding rings in tea- 
 cups. She begins before breakfast and, when housed by 
 a storm, expects mamma to lay down her mending and 
 I my Old Testament Exigesis (of which this is an ex- 
 ample " It was a little hard for the Queen of Sheba 
 to come all that way merely to have Solomon ask her 
 ' Why the miller wore a white hat?'") expects mamma, 
 I say, to give up her work and I my study and listen to 
 such idle questions as ' ' Do you know why your hairpins 
 jump out? " I tell her we are women of affairs and 
 that her idea of business seems to be that of a gypsy, 
 who need only set up a stock of one red shawl and a 
 dirty pack of cards to trot about getting her friends to 
 cross her hand with silver, before telling them that the 
 dark man will play them false and they can be led but 
 not driven. 
 
 This house by the way has been a perfect orchestra of 
 coughs from attic to basement Uncle Melly housed in
 
 Aet. 25 91 
 
 the lower rooms people barking in every direction and 
 outside winds blowing chimney pots whizzing blinds 
 cracking walkers skating on glare ice snow falling 
 off roofs like minute guns and the thermometer down to 
 six degrees above, and tropical at that when one reads 
 the accounts of weather 22 and 30 and 38 and 40 degrees 
 below no further off than New Hampshire and Maine. 
 
 We just received per mail an advertisement of a sale 
 of somebody's effects, in which one of the items was 
 "Three shell hairpins" I am tempted to see how imi- 
 tation shell ones would go in these hard times. Apropos 
 of advertisements, Dr. Bigelow sent me one, gotten up 
 in English by some Japanese store and recommending 
 their incense in language worthy of the Portuguese guide 
 ' ' The incense helps one to keep his mind fresh, etc. 
 etc. Gentlemen and Ladies who rove in good society 
 are advised to use it at home and perfume their clothes 
 and hats with it as a help to keep up respectability 
 proper to them." A real investment I should say for 
 some people however expensive the first plant might be, 
 if that is a correct business expression. Tomorrow, 
 Ellen goes to lunch with Paulina at Mrs. Higginson's 
 and then Paulina goes to tea with Ellen at Dr. Bigelow's 
 house which is so full of surprising things that it is like 
 taking Russian Caravan tea, P. says, in Aladdin's cave. 
 Next week, Paulina is to spend two or three days at 
 Manchester with a young houseparty at the Higginson's 
 and the day before that gaiety on one side and numerous 
 trees and Coquelin on the other she is going to take 
 time to be vaccinated a common source of evening 
 amusement here now. Sunday, when I wrote you, she 
 and a lot of others were taking supper at the Higgin-
 
 92 ' 1893 
 
 son's, after walking in from Cambridge where they had 
 had tea in Mr. Bake well's rooms and been over the 
 Psychical Laboratory, where they bring science (!) to 
 bear on the " unseen world " by means of whirling their 
 victims round on piano stools making them sing high 
 C, ride on a see-saw and have a jack-in-the-box snapped 
 under their nose. Mr. Hooper's account of the post- 
 card sent by The Psychical Research Society to an old 
 lady of 84 to ask how she felt in a swing, forms a truly 
 spiritual test; and the story Prof. James told of the 
 Divinity Student in one of his classes, who was sent to 
 feel his skin with a pin and returned full of enthusiasm 
 at having discovered that some parts of it were more 
 sensitive than others and added, "It's perfectly fine it 
 proves the immortability of the soul, " seems eminently 
 probable! With lots of love, 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 My dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 You must let me thank you just this once for the 
 lovely flowers you sent yesterday the day of all days 
 in the month when I love to have something beautiful 
 to put before my pictures, and yesterday especially when 
 one had only to shut one's eyes to see him beside the 
 Trinity Church tree giving the candy horns to the chil- 
 dren as they came up the chancel by twos and threes. 
 In some very close dear way one feels he must have 
 been there this year too Christmas can't help being 
 a happy time and bringing its own brightness with it in
 
 Aet. 25 93 
 
 the midst of the sadness. It seems as if we were in- 
 tended to gather strength and comfort for the anniver- 
 saries that are coming so near now. What should we 
 have done last year but for you and Ethel? Your calls 
 and the hope of them were like gleams of light in " a 
 horror of great darkness " that seemed sometimes to be 
 closing in around us that seems so sometimes now, 
 only that thro' the long months one has learnt to trust 
 God and take courage. 
 With loving Christmas wishes to you all, 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 Begun Thursday, Dec. 28. 
 
 Finished Saturday. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 Thank you ever so much for the tea-cup which came 
 intact and which I have been keeping as a vase since 
 Christmas Day to feed my eyes on and remind me of 
 you! Today it will join its brothers and sisters below 
 stairs till five o'clock when I propose to drink your 
 health out it in foaming Bohea Paulina was not so 
 pious about not opening her box but proceeded at once 
 to try whether she liked California candy and, like Mr. 
 Pickwick, tried again and again to make sure. She 
 decided that she did. 
 
 Your letter of the 14th got here Friday evening just 
 after another of my half -fastened letters had been sent 
 forth into the wilds, but this one shall be made as tight 
 as wax and gum can make it. Your poem was chanted
 
 94: 1893 
 
 with shawms and psaltery and accompanied by the dance. 
 I only regretted that my dressing jacket yclept "the 
 linen ephod" was a thing of the past. Since then I 
 have received your letter of the 19th what a duck 
 you are to write so often! Only innumerable Christ- 
 mas notes to write ( the last four I got thro' yester- 
 day ) could have kept me from being equally devoted. 
 By the way you ask if I remember " Nuttie's Father " ? 
 Certainly I do, tho' it is many a year since I read it. 
 That is the one that mamma came home and told me 
 about as a new novel for grown-up people which Mrs. 
 Morison had read and found very interesting. I asked 
 the name and rather to my surprise was told "A Day 
 Out Nutting " ! ! a weird one it struck me to give a 
 three volume romance for adults. 
 
 Well, Christmas has come and gone and one has a 
 blank sense of having lost something to look forward 
 to! However one may dread it beforehand, and how- 
 ever many sad memories it brings thick about one, 
 Christmas always brings its own brightness with it, 
 doesn't it? I think it is not only the great hopes and 
 meanings in the festival itself, but the feeling too that 
 it and Easter must be kept there as well as here 
 that makes one feel less the gulf of the grave than on 
 merely family days like Thanksgivings and birthdays, 
 when one sees the human side of the sorrow only 
 I can't express myself but you know what I mean. 
 
 Dear old Bessie, you wish me a happy New Year 
 and better health and I wish you the same and every 
 blessing I think you are one of those who in the 
 midst of sorrows and anxieties away from home and 
 friends and old associations and with constant physi- 
 cal weakness to combat have struck down into the real
 
 Aet. 25 95 
 
 source of strength and happiness May joys come to 
 you too 
 
 Paulina is employing this leisure morning by turning 
 also her steps Cambridge-wards to pay a visit of inspec- 
 tion on her third stalwart nephew, who appeared on the 
 scene last Friday, the 22nd, and is pronounced by his 
 impartial grandmother to be a very fine boy indeed. 
 "Little Robert," whom I saw for a few minutes before 
 the tree Christmas, seemed more doubtful about his 
 charms and added that the funny part was that no- 
 body seemed to know his name at which we mur- 
 mured "How anonymous!" Both Charley and he 
 are grown into such pretty little fellows that we speak 
 of them now as " our nephews," while the first year or 
 more of their existence they were alluded to vaguely as 
 ' ' mamma's grandchildren " By the way in Germany 
 wouldn't they pension the aunts of three powerful 
 nephews only two years apart? just as they give a 
 bonus in England to the proud father of triplets? 
 
 Since Christmas I have burst out into white and crim- 
 son azalias and poinsettia and cyclamen and a fern 
 which if I am a tiger which some have hinted must 
 make me feel as if I were lying in the shadow of my 
 native jungle. My seven bunches of violets have gone 
 the way of all flesh, but a dozen pink roses have been 
 saved from the burning to say nothing of all the flowers 
 that have come since then, so I don't think even Santa 
 Barbara can look more summery Indeed my dear 
 ugly old room has been made so attractive with pic- 
 tures and things that I shall be more loth than ever to 
 leave it. We have a lovely Vandyke Madonna over the
 
 96 1893 
 
 bureau and a Perugino St. Francis, and angels by 
 Benozzo Gozzoli, make sunshine in two shady corners; 
 and loveliest of all a five-foot enlarged copy of the 
 last page of William Blake's " Jerusalem " which Mr. 
 Hooper has just had made! It is the weary soul's re- 
 turn into the bosom of the Eternal Life a female fig- 
 ure with arms stretched up and such tired hands as if 
 she had just been rescued by the other figure bending 
 over her ' with head wool white " a great circle of 
 light behind them, and below those curves and flames 
 that Blake uses to denote vision and mystery I won- 
 der if you would like it as much as I do? so many 
 people don't care for Blake at all, and think with Mr. 
 Chapman, who wrote Mrs. Whitman that "a mystic 
 was only an artist who couldn't paint " apropos of 
 the fashionable excitement over Blake. Helen and Jim 
 gave us a big plaster cast of a lovely ' ' Madonna and 
 Child " which I have had hung at the foot of my bed 
 I only wish I knew whose it is and not simply that it 
 isn't a della Robbia but in art matters, you know, I am 
 like the young lady, to whom a very shy mathematical 
 friend of Mr. Hooper's was presented because as his 
 hostess told him she was so fond of mathematics. He 
 accordingly began the conversation with the differential 
 calculus, and was told by his companion that, fond as 
 she was of mathematics, she had never got further than 
 decimal fractions. 
 
 Saturday. 
 
 This letter would not have hung on so long, but that 
 Thursday evening I went downstairs (my third at- 
 tempt ) to see Dr. Bigelow and had a frightful even- 
 ing followed by a feeble day yesterday in consequence.
 
 Aet. 25 97 
 
 All this is slightly discouraging and it looks as if I 
 should have to stick to my own room for a long time to 
 come! It isn't only the stairs, but the rooms down- 
 stairs are never so frigid as I am happy in and one per- 
 son at a time seems to border on an impossibility. The 
 other evening not only the family stuck to the field, but 
 Uncle Melly broke every rule by admitting an extra per- 
 son so that the room reeled about me, and I felt as lost 
 and confused as only a person feels who has been kept 
 to one visitor at a time, varied by solitary confinement 
 for so long. Why do I tell you all this except that 
 I tell you anything that comes uppermost in what I am 
 pleased to term my mind and my pen has a habit of 
 getting away with me For the present I am to see 
 anyone I want to see up here and think of following 
 Grandma Lodge's Plan and draping my bed in the 
 American Flag Yesterday I saw Ellen Hooper whom 
 I am never too ill to see and she is coming again this 
 morning. I tell her, I sacrifice friends and honor for 
 her sake and have had wild dreams of letting her in and 
 out by the fire escape (which we haven't got) so as not 
 to excite jealousy or comment. She lies down on the 
 bed beside me in the flat pillowless way you some- 
 times affect and which always fills me with amazement 
 
 and Paulina reads to us For some reason I get 
 more rested with her than without her perhaps be- 
 cause she's so lovely to look at I wish you could 
 have seen her the other day after she had spent the 
 night here and was resting after her party in a white 
 wrapper with all her red-gold hair hanging down below 
 her waist like nothing but a picture of a Princess in 
 a Fairy Tale.
 
 98 1893 
 
 The other evening Mrs. Whitman came to see me hav- 
 ing just got back from a Christmas trip to see all her 
 friends and relations in New York, Philadelphia and 
 Baltimore She looked more thoroughly tired and dis- 
 couraged than I have ever seen her and moreover spoke 
 with no attempt to conceal it. Her voice was almost a 
 whisper from bronchitis and her vaccination was taking 
 violently. Everybody has been vaccinated of late 
 with the exception of mamma and me and as neigh- 
 bor meets neighbor upon the street instead of exchang- 
 ing a " How do you do? " they say a hurried u arm or 
 leg? and have you begun to take yet? " before passing 
 on. Mrs. Perkins says the " Life and Letters of Miss 
 Wynne " deals with our dear ' ' set " and is interesting 
 Mamma and I have finished "Daniel MacMillan." 
 He reminds me in spots of Felix, doesn't he you? By the 
 way some day do read Maurice's " Gospel of St. John " 
 I'm sure you would find it everything to you at least I 
 hope so it is to me. I am writing out of the prettiest 
 Cloisonne inkstand Mrs. Dexter gave me, and Paulina 
 will seal this with the dearest old Bolognese lamp with 
 little instruments of torture dangling from it given her 
 by the Higginsons They gave me a lovely Norwegian 
 spoon but more than all my presents put together, I love 
 a little silver sword (a paper cutter and book-marker 
 together) which Gertrude Brooks gave me because it 
 was Mr. Brooks's and has his initials on it. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 NANCY.
 
 Aet. 25 99 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Man is the world's high priest ; he doth present 
 The sacrifice for all, while they below 
 Unto the sacrifice mutter an assent. 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 Sir Francis Bacon says, ' ' When I have ascended be- 
 fore men, I have descended in humiliation before God."
 
 100 1894 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 January 1st, 1894-. 
 
 A happy New Year to you, dear old Bessie, and by 
 the time this letter reaches you many happy returns of 
 the day as well! Ninety-four was begun with the love- 
 liest sunny morning and with your Christmas Eve letter 
 which is better than the sunshine, tho' it made me cry. 
 I begin to feel as you did last year when Anna Amory 
 described this aged saint in '- the little upper chamber," 
 and you were divided between thinking the worst of 
 my chances of life and reason, and a conviction that it 
 would prove to be a case of mistaken identity. 
 
 You speak of Hedley Vicars' Life He was the one 
 you know whom Mrs. Whitman compared to Mary 
 Beaumont's husband, and tho' we were totally in the 
 dark when she called the Commodore, ' ' A perfect Hed- 
 ley Vicars " we have since, of course, done nothing but 
 run across allusions to him. His life was on that list I 
 gave you, wasn't it? I've always meant to read it 
 There was some one, who was it? on whose life it had 
 the greatest influence Either Ruskin or David Liv- 
 ingstone or some one else equally different from either. 
 As Uncle Melly sneeringly remarks of English biogra- 
 phies, " this was the Hedley Vicars' time " I'm sure it 
 must have occurred somewhere. By the way did you 
 ever read Ruskin's " Faith of a Knight," the Knight be- 
 ing Sir Herbert Edwardes? Not that I have, you know, 
 but only mean to. We have been keeping Hamlet's 
 photograph to send you for a birthday card. I hope it 
 came safely and that you understood how much love it 
 carried across the continent with it. His mournful looks
 
 Aet. 25 101 
 
 in it are nothing compared to those he has been casting 
 on "s'Aunt Paulina" for giving him a bath some time 
 since, nor his appeals for sympathy to me and Dr. Mason 
 who has just torn himself away from his caresses. 
 
 Speaking of aged dames, I told mamma the other day 
 that I didn't think even they could describe me as "a 
 sad sufferer," one of their favorite and most depressing 
 expressions; but would have to fall back on another that 
 they love almost as dearly, and say that "I enjoyed 
 much ill health " You've heard them use it haven't 
 you? Would any other body of one's fellow beings? 
 
 I want to send you some sort of letter no matter 
 what to tell you that the tenth of January is a red 
 letter day to me, seeing that was the time my Elizabeth 
 saw fit to make her appearance and to change the world 
 into a pleasanter place for one person at least who 
 didn't come on the scene for ten months later. Your 
 place in my affections and thoughts gets larger every 
 day perhaps from your reprehensible habit of wig- 
 gling so. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Dexter and exit all the paper 
 
 Your own 
 
 NANCY. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Wednesday Jan. 10. 
 
 Your two New Year letters came last night, dearest 
 Boosie, and I was so grieved to see that you still had the
 
 102 1894 
 
 headache, which worried me in your last two or three epis- 
 tles, and which I fondly hoped might be too much Christ- 
 mas presents before and note- writing afterwards . Tell 
 me how you are, won't you? I had so much rather be 
 anxious about you, darling, than kept in ignorance and 
 you know how happy it makes me to feel that you oc- 
 casionally relieve yourself by speaking to me of some of 
 your troubles. I have known you too long, dear old 
 thing, to mistake your pluck and your laughter for 
 happy unconsciousness of all you're cut off from; but I 
 comfort myself by thinking that a deep capacity for pain 
 means a deep capacity for happiness, which no outward 
 circumstances or accidents or griefs can quite prevent 
 one's exercising. This is your birthday, isn't it? I hope 
 the years that are coming will bring more sunshine to 
 you and that every day you may feel surer of the love 
 of old friends and of their need of you. I am so much 
 stronger than I was that you would scarcely know me 
 and tho' I am not to try the stairs for sometime, I flaunt 
 about up here in a gay teagown and am to try sitting 
 up for a little while every morning and this for "a 
 growing girl" !!! 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 You don't like cats, or I'm sure you'd admire my black 
 "Mewt," when she leaps into the top of my towering 
 fern or throws herself onto my bed in an attitude of 
 lithe abandon, looking exactly like Sarah Bernhardt. 
 
 Your loving 
 ALKY.
 
 Aet. 25 103 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Monday, Jan 15th. 
 My own dearest Bessie, 
 
 I am going to write you again so soon to do duty for 
 the next fortnight and that you may understand my 
 silence and not be startled by it, if I haven't the heart 
 to write even you. It is a year ago yesterday since 
 Mr. Brooks made us his last call, and the days that are 
 coming are thick with memories which seem fresh as 
 new griefs. The dull pain is harder to bear than the 
 first stunning blow One has lived and slept and 
 waked to the blank day so long with it that one real- 
 izes that it is true and that it must be borne. It com- 
 forts me to think that we all have got closer to him 
 and to each other thro' the pain and darkness. God 
 bless and keep you, dear Bessie, and bring us all to- 
 gether, where there shall be no parting and where the 
 former things which shall have passed away have done 
 their work. 
 
 Friday and Saturday, we went down to zero with a 
 real old-fashioned blustering wind in the chimney, so 
 that I had a blazing fire all night with Valentina sitting 
 before it with such a pathetic little croupy cough and 
 heavy breathing a much realer touch of the grippe 
 than mine which, if they didn't call everything the 
 grippe nowadays, was only a very bad cold the first 
 I've had these five years Isn't that a good advertise- 
 ment for a mortal disease that keeps minor ailments at 
 bay? It kept me dull and feverish all the first part of 
 last week, and then left my brain lively only to reduce 
 me to a voiceless condition when I had to write my de- 
 sires and thick coming fancies like Joe Brownlow in
 
 104 1894 
 
 "Magnum Bonum" Apropos of Aunt Charlotte, do 
 you remember Carlyle's impolite allusions to Keble in 
 his Diary as "that ape named Keble who wrote the 
 ' Christian Year ' and whom all the world was flocking 
 to see" ? But then we all know Carlyle's dyspeptic out- 
 look! Dickson's wife and small family have all been 
 going thro' "the grippy round, the coughy task " as well 
 as Paulina who got well on some " cold pills " sent her 
 by Mrs. Whitman and taken every hour she wasn't 
 dancing in a low-necked gown. She returned the box 
 with a note in the regular advertisement style. "For 
 years I have suffered from an excruciating cold, lame- 
 ness of head, redness of nose and a jewishness of accent 
 which has estranged my many admirers but six of 
 Dr. Sarah Whitman's cold pills restored me to useful- 
 ness and beauty. Signed 'Miss P. Smith, Somerville 
 Row, Chelsea.' You've noticed the elite quarters in 
 which takers of quack remedies usually abide? " I 
 took of the pills myself and broke it to Dr. Mason 
 afterwards, which reminds me of old Dr. Bigelow's de- 
 scription of family practice. ' ' Miss Tappan sends for 
 me," he says, " and says, ' Henry, I want to consult you 
 about something. Before you came, I took a dose of 
 medicine which Dr. Sam Cabot advised to his sister for 
 some other complaint.' That is family practice! " 
 
 Your very loving 
 
 SNAP. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 [Jan. 24.] 
 My dearest Gertrude 
 
 We are all so bound together these sacred days feel- 
 ing the same grief and consolation thinking the same
 
 Aet. 25 105 
 
 great thoughts that words seem cold and meaningless 
 especially written words. I long to see you. We 
 think of you always. 
 
 The lily you sent brought its message of Easter hope 
 in the midst of the sorrow Paulina wants me to give 
 you her dearest love to give you all. 
 
 God bless and comfort you and help us all to be wor- 
 thy of such a sorrow. 
 
 Always your most loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 48 Mount Vernon Street, 
 
 Wednesday Morning. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 Friday, February 9th. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 So you are a householder and have your own fireside 
 with a companion on the other side of it and a board to 
 welcome your own friends at (the last part of which 
 sentence is comprehensible, I hope, however awkward.) 
 It all sounds very delightful, and I hope you will soon 
 be rested enough to enjoy it in the present; and that 
 the tide of life and enjoyment will come in full again, 
 and float you off the rocks and sands where we all lie 
 stranded so long sometimes as to feel them insurmount- 
 able. I got your letter Wednesday, and was so glad to 
 know Miss Ireland's address that I started to write her 
 at once but was too ill to get further than the envelope. 
 However, the inside got written yesterday, tho' I really 
 had nothing to say as an excuse to sign myself hers very 
 affectionately. I have thought of her so often and how
 
 106 1894 
 
 pathetic it has been for her to have to give up the old 
 school. 
 
 Paulina was thinking of a visit to Mrs. Lodge in 
 Washington this week, but has postponed it till Easter 
 time as I was too ill to leave at the time and our dear 
 " Hamlet" lost. We got him back Tuesday after five 
 hideous days and nights $5. spent in advertising and 
 $10. reward and superhuman efforts on the part of 
 our men Uncle Melly absolutely raiding the premises 
 of a famous dog thief with a sheriff and search warrant. 
 In short we have got " Hamlet " back but not our faith 
 in human nature being so versed in dog-thief lore that 
 we eye our best friends with suspicion especially if they 
 affect cloaks. 
 
 I have two school-teacher jests which I saved up to 
 tell you and must tuck in before I end. Barrett Wendell 
 says "Honor without the 'u' is not binding" which 
 puts it in a nutshell, doesn't it? and some lady gravely 
 said in a large company that we got most of our heat 
 from the fixed stars. "I think," said Professor Shaler, 
 " the fixed stars would wink if they heard us say so." 
 
 Keep a stout heart and believe me 
 
 Always lovingly yours, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Begun Saturday, Feb. 17. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 The idea has suddenly struck me that a journal letter 
 such as Meta wrote over her struggles with Norman's
 
 Aet. 25 107 
 
 archidiaconal hat in the New Zealand wilds would be 
 both happy and appropriate; and as the festive plumbers 
 have taken possession of the bathroom since eight o'clock 
 and the day is somewhat long in consequence, what bet- 
 ter time could be desired as incident is not necessary to 
 a journal letter is, in fact, quite antagonistic to it. 
 At ten last night we "sprang a leak" and had to bail 
 out the china closet like the hold of a pirate lugger in 
 fact I never saw or rather heard so violent a leak. 
 It was like a domestic Niagara till a man was fetched to 
 turn off the water, and then proceeded to send in his as- 
 sistants upon us, who leisurely make Ophelia's graves 
 for themselves in our only dressing room, and extricate 
 bits of pipe which they apostrophize with "I knew 
 him well Horatio" or "Alas poor Yorick." 
 
 Since I finished my letter to you Thursday, I have 
 done nothing more noteworthy than to be iller than 
 usual in fact yesterday I wasn't good for anything 
 but to lie flat and groan melodiously at intervals. C'est 
 passee I got a decent night and can hold my head up 
 again. 
 
 YOUR NANCY. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 March, 5th and 6th. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 I got a nice long letter from you Saturday just when I 
 needed cheering after Paulina's departure to Washington 
 for ten days. She went under Anna Amory's escort, and 
 had two or three days of Constance and is having a per- 
 fectly delightful time as she always does with Mrs. Lodge.
 
 108 1894 
 
 We have long enthusiastic letters every morning, full 
 of all she has been doing and seeing, which makes the life 
 at "48" seem more quiet and uneventful than ever. 
 Elinor and Ellen Hooper have been sharing the nursing 
 between them, during mamma's so-called "dashes " into 
 the marts; and I have had another stance with the den- 
 tist and triumphantly finished that business for the year. 
 The birds and "Hamlet" are thriving, so my small world 
 wags on smoothly enough. Don't you think a journal 
 such as Helen Fotheringham wrote, with " the sparrows 
 picking up tiny crumbs of bread upon the roof this 
 morning made me understand all the healing in a young 
 child's penitence," would employ my time usefully and 
 possibly have a great effect on some more active life? 
 but this is French "irreverence; " P., Mamma and I 
 were simply gloating over "Heartsease" before P. went 
 and miss it sorely of an evening. Poor little Ethel is 
 housed with a cold which is on the mend, tho' she takes 
 rather the Mr. Charles Perkins' stand, who after one day 
 and two nights abed, bade them pull up the shades that 
 he might see the trees and added gloomily, ' ' It looks as 
 it did when I used to go out " but tho' Ethel can't 
 come Mrs. Paine is most devoted. Apropos of the 
 Paines, I must tell you about a remark of their ex- 
 butler who is now one of the men at the Art Museum. 
 " Miss Ethel you have not been to see the Zorn pictures 
 yet. They are broad in treatment but very fine. I am 
 not sure tho' but the breadth of treatment would pre- 
 vent your really liking them. " It was Ethel too who 
 saw some time since a placard on the "People's Church " 
 with ' ' Wanted 500 men and women to make into 
 celestial Kings and Queens " which reminds me of Father 
 Bodfish's reply to somebody who was explaining the
 
 Aet. 25 109 
 
 High-church theory that the Anglican was the real 
 branch, the Romish a mere offshoot. ' ' Like saying one's 
 coat is an offshoot of a button." 
 
 Paulina came home full of anecdotes after dining with 
 Mr. James, who had just been reading a work on " Neu- 
 rasthenia " which ended, he said, with a national pean, 
 "No people have such highly-strung nerves as the 
 American people! No nation takes so much medicine 
 nor of such good quality! " And Mrs. James said good 
 health was a disgrace no one in the country would con- 
 fess to. One of her servants in the Adirondacks reluc- 
 tantly admitted that the other one was delicate, ' ' Yes 
 she has consumption but, " rallying, "I have fits." A 
 cousin of Mrs. James and her husband did not agree and 
 lived mostly apart. One day he came home and told 
 his wife he was going to the hospital to have an opera- 
 tion performed. She said firmly ' < No, come here. What 
 is the meaning of the word ' home ' if it isn't a place to 
 have a surgical operation? " Isn't that a sweet defini- 
 tion ? One more I must tell you a matrimonial bureau 
 advertisement which Mr. James saw, " A blind gentle- 
 man without means wishes to find a partner, to whom 
 the sense that she was benefiting another life would 
 compensate for the lack of the ordinary inducements! " 
 
 Always your loving 
 
 ALICIA. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Tuesday, March 13th. 
 Dearest Elizabeth, 
 
 You mustn't think the long spaces between my epis- 
 tles these days voluntary, but an invalid's time, as you
 
 110 1894 
 
 know, is not its own; and for the last week I have been 
 rather feeble to a fault, receiving callers or resting for 
 a small gaiety of Paulina's which came off successfully 
 last night. 
 
 Ever since the Almanac made a mistake and gave us 
 May instead of March, the South and California have 
 seemed unnecessary frills. Here we all are revelling in 
 sunny day after sunny day with cloudless skies and soft 
 south winds the thermometer varying from 50 de- 
 grees to 65 degrees the crocuses out on Beacon Street 
 and all sorts of plants blooming in the windows of 48, 
 one pair back. "The Judge" and "Valentina" are 
 talking in low voices over their canton-flannel nest; and 
 "Hamlet" follows a jacketless aunt about the streets 
 with his tongue lolling out in a most ostentatious man- 
 ner. Apropos of Hamlet, Paulina has just got a sub- 
 scription for the " Zenana Band " from a young lady in 
 a Boston suburb romantically called "Glen Elsinore." 
 Doesn't it sound haunted, and I wonder if the people 
 of those districts have the face to address their family 
 ghosts as "Old Truepenny"? The spring would be 
 even more enjoyable if mice hadn't seen fit to die pro- 
 fusely in our walls in fact it has gone so far that our 
 closet, as I tell Paulina, might aptly be spoken of as a 
 "Mouseoleum grand." 
 
 Did I tell you that the Kaiser Wilhelm was to have 
 the good fortune to bear 17 Cabots across the ocean? 
 and the time draws very near, alas! Mrs. Dexter is 
 going to make me her last call this morning, and I feel 
 as blue as my own dressing jacket.
 
 Aet. 25 111 
 
 Poor mamma is abed with one of her headaches, but 
 it is on the mend I am glad to say. We always regard 
 her giving out as a bitter personal affront. I must tell 
 you one of her happy similes you know she believes 
 that if a simile is good at all, it is good for everything. 
 She told me if I wore a white sailor hat in May I should 
 look like a " stripped darkie" and refused to withdraw 
 it, tho' I pointed out that the more a colored gentleman 
 took off the blacker he must get. Speaking of gentle- 
 men, Mr. Harry Lee wanting to descend into his vaults, 
 found the stairs blocked by a large woman engaged in 
 conversation with the boy who swept out the office. 
 He put his hand on her shoulder as a hint to let him 
 pass, whereupon she turned and said with great dig- 
 nity, " My good man! I wish to talk with this young 
 gentleman." 
 
 The rest of my feeble anecdotes can wait till next 
 
 time. 
 
 Always your most loving 
 
 " NANCY." 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 [Mar. 15.] 
 (To be read at your leisure) 
 
 Wednesday Evening. 
 
 Paulina and I are sitting all alone over a meagre tea 
 tray with a laid up mother and neglectful friends. It 
 seems a happy moment to begin a cheerful steamer- 
 letter to you. Ever since you went our spirits have 
 been about as blue as that new Mikado wrapper Paulina 
 has just finished. We mean to brace up and bear it 
 better once you are really started and can think of your 
 return as the real thing. Five whole months is really
 
 112 1894 
 
 short, tho' I must own it doesn't seem so till they're 
 over which is a consolation of the Mrs. Squeers order. 
 I had a sort of feeling when you kissed me good-bye 
 this morning, that you didn't mean to get up again and 
 I'm not sure but it will be as well. Saying good-bye is 
 a great mistake and I'm not going to write it either. 
 When you come back rested and cheerful, with the most 
 optimistic views of life in general and Congress in par- 
 ticular, and with powers of intense mental application 
 to find this family sporting like kids on the Manchester 
 hillsides, how childish these tears and anxieties will ap- 
 pear. Every one you love will keep well for your 
 sake, and besides when people really love each other it 
 takes more than oceans and mountains to part them. 
 Dear, dear Mrs. Dexter, I won't say how much I shall 
 miss you but you know how often you will be in my 
 thoughts and that when you've had a good time I shall 
 have had it too I shall see Rome with your eyes and 
 no journey to make either. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 Mrs. Paine came in while I was writing and now this 
 bright sunny morning throws sunshine on things gen- 
 erally. Our dear old roof -tree under which pictur- 
 esque simile you are to recognize our "shingley " mother 
 has had a good night and feels about well. Paulina's 
 voice has returned and I continue to feel as that man 
 of Mrs. Whitman's used to say in answer to inquiries 
 about his consumptive wife "rugged." 
 
 Mamma and I have just finished Carlyle's " Life of 
 Sterling " some of it is most beautiful, isn't it? and 
 all of it as interesting as a novel, as much from Carlyle's 
 tenderness as from Sterling's charm and sunny courage
 
 Aet. 25 113 
 
 under the most adverse circumstances. Do you remem- 
 ber how Carlyle speaks of him as taking the joys and 
 sorrows of his lot with true simplicity and acquiescence, 
 "Like a true son, not a rebel but a son; willing to suf- 
 fer when Heaven said, Thou shalt, and withal, what is 
 rarer, willing to rejoice also and right cheerily taking the 
 good that was sent whensoever or in whatever form it 
 came. And so he played his part and sleeps now bright, 
 ever-young in the memory of others who must grow old 
 and was honorably released from his toils before the 
 hottest of the day " It is nice to get back into the 
 very centre of ' ' our set " too, for didn't he and Maurice 
 marry sisters? and wasn't he Julius Hare's curate; and 
 didn't he stay with the Foxes at Falmouth and know 
 Caroline, whose journal you lent me, and visit Torquay 
 and Marcus and Luce Hare (Uncle Melly's dishevelled 
 favorite) who was born a Stanley of Alderly and a 
 cousin of the Dean's? 
 
 My arm is getting tired and my handwriting more 
 and more illegible but you won't mistake my signature 
 for " Lunz " will you? 
 
 " Courage, mon ami, le diable n'est pas mort," is bet- 
 ter indeed, and always and always 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 Saturday, March 17. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 I don't want your Easter to go by without a word 
 from me, tho' on that day of all days spoken words
 
 114: 1894 
 
 seem unnecessary, when all those that love one another, 
 whether parted by distance or death seem bound so 
 closely together and sometimes oftenest I think 
 distance seems the greater barrier. Anna Amory came 
 to call Wednesday, so I have heard of you since you got 
 back to Santa Barbara and found the sad news that was 
 waiting for you there I have pitied Elise so much for 
 not having you to turn to and you too for being at a dis- 
 tance and helpless to go to her I hear of her fre- 
 quently from one source and another, and had a card 
 from her the other day thanking me for a few violets 
 which are easier both to send and receive than words 
 between strangers. 
 
 Mrs. Dexter sails this morning, having parted from 
 us all with the most forced and lugubrious cheerful- 
 ness. It is hard to say goodbye for so long a time 
 from so intimate a friend, whom we all turn to in time 
 of stress as nurse, companion and confidante, and whom 
 we had grown used to having always at our beck and 
 call. 
 
 Paulina is just getting over a voiceless cold and 
 mamma is just out of bed from what turned out to 
 be an attack of ' ' Shingles. " We tell her if she were 
 Margaret May she would be consoled, reproved and com- 
 forted under this especial affliction by quoting your 
 favorite lines from Keble, ' ' Is this a time to add roof 
 to roof?" Here is Mrs. Templeman Coolidge to see 
 
 me and so, 
 
 With lots of love, 
 
 I am as always, 
 
 Your devoted A. W. S.
 
 Aet. 25 115 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 [Mar. 26.] 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 The lilies-of-the- valley are as dear as they can be 
 there's no flower I love better and I had half -hopes 
 that you would come in yesterday to let me thank you 
 and to finish that interrupted call of yours. Now 
 Paulina tells me you are going to Waltham for four or 
 five days, and I don't want you to go without hoping 
 that Easter has brought you all the deep happiness that 
 I am sure it has. It was such a comfort to be able to 
 go to the Early Communion yesterday. That service 
 and the church and the whole day seem so full of Mr. 
 Brooks not full of sad memories but of his actual pres- 
 ence among us all, bringing, as it always did, strength 
 to go on and inspiration and hope. On Easter the veil 
 that divides us from those who have gone before seems 
 to be rent in the midst, and we too join our voices in a 
 hymn of praise and thanksgiving with the choir in- 
 visible. And how close we his people stand together, I 
 think we feel on these great days. 
 
 Always lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Easter Monday. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 Wednesday Evening. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 It was nice to get your Easter letter, and I should have 
 answered it before, but this last week I have indulged 
 in two seances of the dentist (isn't it luxurious having 
 one's dentist attend one in one's own boudoir?) and that
 
 116 1894 
 
 with constant visits from Dr. Mason before and after 
 to see how I was going to bear it and how I had borne 
 it has rather limited my already short note- writing 
 time. Then Saturday Paulina went on to Washington 
 to visit Mrs. Lodge, and I entertained friends at all hours, 
 sometimes as mere callers and sometimes as deputy- 
 nurses. So much for excuses, and now for news! By 
 the way you must tell me about yourself and your plans 
 when you write. Bessie Foster already begins to talk 
 vaguely of coming East, and seems a great deal stronger. 
 When she wrote last she had just taken a three days' 
 driving journey 96 miles over the mountains, stop- 
 ping every now and then to fire pistols which sounds 
 like " Le roi du montagne," rather than an outing of a 
 young female invalid. My other " sicks " are also look- 
 ing up. 
 
 Mrs. Templeman Coolidge told me of a Lowell lecture 
 Mr. Poulton gave on " the Courtship of Spiders." It 
 appears that the Lady-spider proposes to the male who 
 is much smaller and only anxious to please indeed 
 unless he can succeed in attracting he is gobbled forth- 
 with. Isn't this quite a strong-minded woman's utopia? 
 
 Excuse the scrappiness of this letter but my existence 
 runs between narrow channels with few external events 
 to mark the days especially when Paulina is away. 
 She is having a lovely time and will bring home facts 
 enough to last us all summer a season which begins 
 for us dreadfully soon in less than a month. I am 
 on the whole stronger, but well or ill am always 
 
 Affectionately your friend, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 25 117 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 Thursday, April 12. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I have just received such a lovely brocade portfolio 
 from Mrs. Lodge, that I am tempted to begin my letter 
 to you today, tho' somewhat feeble after last night or 
 rather last evening's anxieties Paulina stayed an ex- 
 tra day in Washington to hear Mr. Lodge speak on the 
 Tariff, which necessitated her coming home unescorted, 
 and we expected her to reach Boston at 8.30 (which 
 was quite late enough) ; but a timely Nor' Wester with a 
 furious gale and heavy snow preceded her making 
 the Sound rough and blowing telegraph poles across 
 the track, so that it was half-past twelve before she 
 drove up to our great joy and relief. Uncle Melly 
 spent his time plying between home and the station, 
 and luckily the railway officials knew the cause of the 
 delay and expected her to be even later than she was, or 
 we should have been quite wild as her telegram didn't 
 get here till breakfast time. Mamma had fears lest I 
 was about to expire at the inopportune moment when 
 she had come and the anxiety was over but I came 
 to instead and spent the night waking up to be sure I 
 had got her back. She was almost as used up, poor 
 dear, with anxiety as to what the effect would be on 
 me; and today we have sat round listening to all her 
 new political facts and interests and all she has seen 
 and heard, with Dickson presently to hear what there 
 was to be heard! It's enough to afford this family 
 topics for many weeks to come, but I'm afraid we don't 
 take her political anecdotes as much au serieux as Mark
 
 118 1894 
 
 Tapley could wish. Mr. Chanler said about " the Wil- 
 son bill for turning states republican" that "these 
 Southerners wouldn't know an American Industry if 
 they met it in the street;" and what do you think they 
 literally introduced under the head of ' ' Wearing Ap- 
 parel"? "Hydraulic Hose!! " don't you think that 
 is delightful? 
 
 I have had so many amateur nurses since Paulina 
 has been gone that she says she has never enjoyed such 
 elegant leisure, and strolls out to spend an hour or so 
 with Hunt's pictures at the " St. Botolph," quite as if 
 she had not been for years tied by the leg to a bed post. 
 Elinor has read to me by the hour together, and Ellen 
 Hooper has lain down beside me on the bed and just 
 rested me by being there, and Mrs. Paine has guarded 
 me off-days, and Ethel and Mrs. Higginson and Miss 
 Lowell have brightened me up. Indeed, if it hadn't 
 been for a slight squabbling among my nurses, and an 
 inclination to drop notes and insist that the next day 
 was theirs by rights, I should have had a most restful 
 time. However, popularity, tho' it has some drawbacks, 
 is very flattering. 
 
 By the way, what a long, long way you are off as far 
 as the ordinary post is concerned. A whole month be- 
 fore one can get an answer to a note. It feels, as Dr. 
 Holmes said about talking into an ear-trumpet, "like 
 dropping sixpence into the bank of England," to tell 
 you how many times " Valentina" coughed and whether 
 " the Judge " lost a tail-feather. And by the way that 
 reminds me that St. Gaudens' design for an eagle was 
 refused by the Naval Department "because it looked
 
 Aet. 25 119 
 
 like a plucked turkey! " I suppose it did not have 
 enough feather-trowser to suit the propriety of the 
 Great American People? 
 Mamma and Paulina send a great deal of love and I 
 
 am, as always, 
 
 Your very affectionate 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 [May 1.] 
 
 " OLD HOMESTEAD," 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Monday Afternoon. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 This note is not written "Just off Somerville," as 
 Paulina suggested, only because pen and ink were not 
 forthcoming at that juncture, tho' I'm sure we all looked 
 fitted for the part, with each one clasping a bird-cage and 
 our insane Julia attempting to carry an active cat, in an 
 uncovered basket with a sheet over her body and a com- 
 plicated cat's cradle made out of twine over her head. 
 However, even the cat got here safely, and "The Pup " 
 has just turned up with his Uncle, who has been devot- 
 ing the day to him. 
 
 Did you ever see such weather to move in? and the 
 country just beginning to look so beautiful? When we 
 got out at our dear station and saw the sea, and smelt 
 the smell of warm pines and growing things, we really 
 did find it "thrilling;" and the house with everything 
 just as it was, and Mrs. Edward Kelly standing at the 
 door to welcome us seemed quite homelike. 
 
 I came beautifully without a start or a tremor and 
 think of taking out a new lease of life. It was nice see-
 
 120 1894 
 
 ing Ethel for even those few minutes yesterday, and I 
 only wish you were going to lunch with us say to- 
 morrow. 
 
 Always most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 WEST MANCHESTER, 
 
 Saturday, May 5. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Here I am comfortably settled in my dear old room, 
 with the birds on the bed beside me, and mamma knit- 
 ting before a big wood-fire and consoling " Hamlet " for 
 the departure of his Aunt Paulina, who spends her Sun- 
 days thro' May in town, so as to go on with her favorite 
 Sunday School class at St. Andrew's. 
 
 We moved down on Monday, and if it were not for 
 the leafless branches thro' which I see my line of sea 
 and sky, I could fancy the winter a dream. Beautiful 
 as summer is, and especially spring time in these woods, 
 one feels sad to have the realest season over the 
 months that one spends at home close to the warm heart 
 of every thing slip by so fast and leave no mark. I 
 suppose the purposeless lives are the sad ones, when one 
 is driven from each past, not called out of it by a goal 
 that makes a beacon in the future and the way before 
 one with the way behind. After all no life is without 
 its goal, however dim, and we are all " saved by hope " 
 from the least to the greatest. I don't know why I get 
 involved in so gloomy a sentence, except that I feel more, 
 now that I am stronger, the need of a life-work. Every- 
 thing is so simple and easy when one is very ill and 
 lives just from day to day. I must tell you, by the way,
 
 Aet. 25 121 
 
 how Samson-like I am becoming how I moved down 
 by train, and come downstairs once a day here and sun 
 myself under the pine-trees before the door. By and 
 bye, I hope to be able to get out to drive so as to get up 
 my strength before the heats begin which reminds 
 me that on Wednesday the thermometer ran up to 90 
 degrees in the shade just to show its Emersonian indif- 
 ference to surroundings. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 A. W. S. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 [May 7] Monday. 
 My own Tweeby, 
 
 This is a blow! Of course you have sent for Dr. Mason 
 and do ask him if you can't come home? safely to your- 
 self I mean? As for my catching it, the mumps in your 
 company is better than health with you gone and we 
 could play "Napoleon" all day and make faces when 
 we wanted to laugh a thing one always wants to do 
 if ones cheeks are swelled or if it gives one a ' ' conde- 
 scending stitch in one's side." 
 
 If the doctor thinks you might catch cold coming down 
 and thinks you better off where you are, how long will 
 it be? "Oh agony! " said "Toddles." Perhaps, happy 
 thought, its only wisdom teeth throwing up breast works, 
 to prevent the world's observing what tiny fellows they're 
 going to be! Never will you be permitted to leave these 
 
 arms again. 
 
 Your nearly distraught 
 
 NANNY. 
 Do take care of yourself and don't catch cold else this
 
 122 1894 
 
 some time invalid will be coming up to take care of you. 
 Love to Elinor and Bella and all it may concern. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Wednesday, May 9. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Mamma told you how well we accomplished the move, 
 and how active I have become, and indeed you needn't 
 pity us for being here. It is perfectly beautiful and the 
 weather is like an ideal June! We see as many people 
 as we can really enjoy, and rest after the rush of that 
 last week in town which, for me, was almost too gay. 
 I wrote Wednesday, didn't I? just before Helen came 
 with little Jack whom it was nice to see so well 
 and rosy growing up into shyness too. Then Ellen 
 Hooper spent two more ' ' last nights " with us, and I 
 had two calls from Mrs. Whitman and several from 
 Mrs. Paine and Ethel and Anstiss brought in ' ' little 
 Robert " to say good-bye, and Elinor came two or three 
 times and Gertrude Brooks and Mrs. Luce and Dr. 
 Mason. Then Friday afternoon, we had a perfectly de- 
 lightful hour of Mr. John E. Russell, who gets to see us 
 about once a year and is always full of delightful talk 
 and new anecdotes. Do you know him at all, I wonder? 
 He is a dear. " That child of genius," Judge Hoar calls 
 him, and he is so genial and affectionate. You can't 
 help seeing how much he likes you, and he has that 
 courtly old fashioned manner which I always had the 
 weakness to prefer to Cabot "sincerity! " 
 
 Always affectionately, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 25 123 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Tuesday Morning [May 11]. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 Here I lie on my sofa with my wood-fire on one side 
 aad my view of ocean and fields framed in pine trees 
 on the other, and all my possessions in their old places 
 so that I feel as if the winter had been a dream as if 
 we had fallen asleep with the trees turning crimson and 
 gold, and waked after a long nap, to find them putting 
 on their pale greens again. You never saw anything 
 lovelier than it was when we got here, with violets and 
 strawberry blossoms along the roadsides and the sea 
 pale violet in the sunshine, and the shy wild birds call- 
 ing to each other in the orchards. I only hope it will 
 be as lovely a day when you come to us, by the 10.45 
 train a week from Thursday to stay two nights, remem- 
 ber! By the way I meant to tell you that I bore the 
 journey beautifully and was quite reluctant to retire 
 upstairs to my bed. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Monday, May 14. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 I suppose by this time your foot is upon your native 
 heath that is, if you haven't been stopped on your
 
 124 1894 
 
 journey as a suspicious looking character armed with 
 explosives. 
 
 It's awfully nice to think of the long winter and exile 
 being over for you, and to have you back again. You 
 must let us know your plans, won't you? I suppose 
 you won't come to Boston before June, will you but 
 when you do, and when you feel like wasting two or 
 three days in the pine forests of Manchester, you must 
 write and set your time. Won't Paulina and I be glad 
 to see you to say nothing of Hamlet the Dane? 
 
 We came down comfortably a fortnight ago, and 
 found the " Old Homestead " looking as if we had never 
 left it. We invented a new name for it the other day for 
 the benefit of the Nortons if they should have occasion 
 to visit us, "Feme Hawes! " Hasn't that a Chaucerian 
 and Voltairian flavor to the ears of the erudite? and 
 doesn't it sound woody and mean distant shrines? You 
 will find me a reformed character when you come. I 
 go down to luncheon every day and sit out on the rocks 
 and the pine-needles and bask in this ideal weather 
 13 perfect days out of the 14 we have had not the 
 most depraved " malade imaginaire" could be bed rid- 
 den with the sky and the sea so blue and the trees 
 changing into pale greens and reds and yellows under 
 your very eyes. The anemones were just opening when 
 we came, and now we have got thro' violets and straw- 
 berry blossoms as far as columbines but these I believe 
 you prefer of the foot-light variety. 
 
 Lots of love, 
 Your 
 ALICIA.
 
 Aet. 25 125 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [May 31.] 
 
 MANCHESTER, Thursday. 
 My own dearest Ethel, 
 
 I haven't ceased to curse and bewail my bad fortune 
 in having to miss your visit and for such a mere "error " 
 as the mumps. You and Mrs. Paine will be glad to hear 
 that it stuck to the singular, and yesterday afternoon 
 began to show signs of slightly decreasing. 
 
 I wish you could have seen me Tuesday and Wed- 
 nesday! I had "the largest cheek for an unmarried 
 woman" and had boiling water-bags to clap to my 
 cheek even after a swallow of tepid beef tea, which 
 brought on a pain like fifty tooth-aches and made me 
 think Dr. Tanner rather a reasonable man. 
 
 Ellen writes that Dr. Wyman has finally acknowl- 
 edged her puffed-up face to be nothing more abstruse 
 than the common or garden mump, but I suppose by 
 this time she must have given it to her family and 
 friends or such of them as are in a condition to take 
 it. Doctors are strange folk. Mine writes in great dis- 
 tress to tell me nothing can be done but what I am 
 doing. That they have to take their course and that 
 if the other side is involved, it is a matter of ten days, 
 with a week more when I am still infectious. A small 
 family's having it would take all summer and summarily 
 
 check the social instinct. 
 
 Your very loving 
 
 ALICE.
 
 126 1894 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 "THE OLD HOMESTEAD," 
 MANCHESTER, June 3rd. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 This is such a beautiful Sunday morning that I am 
 going to begin a letter to you rather than wait till to- 
 morrow, which is my regular day. I had your first 
 letter from Venice Friday and was so glad to hear that 
 you had given up thinking of past or future and were 
 just letting yourself float in every sense of the word. 
 Did you ever read Le Gallienne's ' ' Religion of a Lit- 
 erary Man " ? some parts of it are quite nice, and I 
 thought of Mark Tapley often while reading the chap- 
 ter on " What is pain," in which he talks much of " the 
 sentimental observer the abnormally sensitive person 
 who always thinks of pain and misery in the bulk, as 
 one murmurs 'Poor Manchester people,' when one sees 
 Manchester on a map of yearly rain falls, and pictures 
 it always raining there and all the world out in it, and 
 without umbrellas. Rheumatism can be neither good 
 nor bad in itself if it makes a man patient, it is rela- 
 tively a blessing and why in this world isn't the tes- 
 timony of the brave at least as good as that of the 
 cowards," etc., with quotations from James Hinton, 
 Browning and Meredith to back him It was quite 
 bracing! Apropos of aches and pains, I came down 
 with the mumps or rather with the "mump" last 
 Sunday, and am still an uncanny enough sight, with 
 one cheek puffed up like a human popover, but the 
 worst is over and I can now swallow liquid food with- 
 out anguish. Wouldn't you have thought any form of 
 lockjaw was "a disease with which even Providence
 
 Aet. 25 127 
 
 could not inflict me " as Bright said apropos of brain 
 fever's attacking that inane young nobleman who said 
 his had been a direct judgment from Heaven The 
 worst is I can't see any one for at least ten days more 
 and have had to put off Bessie Foster, who was coming 
 next week Constance etc. etc. Paulina brought Ethel 
 home Monday to pass a night not knowing but I 
 could only grin at her thro' the glass of my piazza door. 
 Ellen Hooper came down with them herself the same 
 day so that the telegram we sent to bid her beware was 
 unnecessary. Our greatest privation, however, is in be- 
 ing cut off from the Bells and Pratts, whom we were 
 beginning to see so much of almost daily in some way 
 or other some parts of the two households met, and ex- 
 changed books and anecdotes, reduced now, as far as I 
 am concerned, to an interchange of books and notes. 
 Mrs. Bell made me a long two-hour call one day before 
 the mumps, and was coming the very day I came down 
 with them. Mrs. Pratt came in between and since 
 then of course I have missed them. I never saw Mrs. 
 Bell gayer or more charming and we found her as rabid 
 on the subject of "our set," Hares, Stanleys, Maurice, 
 Kebles, Kingsleys, etc., as we could desire. She says 
 just to read in Boyd that Tullock speaks Monday and 
 Stanley Wednesday makes her hair stand on end with 
 pleasure and that when people say of some famous 
 churchman, ' ' Do you mean that funny little man who 
 crossed himself and wore a queer hat?" she responds 
 with dignity, "I mean one of the greatest thinkers of 
 the age." We lent her Maurice's "St. John" and the 
 "Life of Kingsley" which were both new to her and 
 then proceeded to gloat with her over this lovely new
 
 128 1894 
 
 1 'Life of Stanley" in two fat volumes of which she says 
 she wouldn't miss the dot of an "i." 
 
 Our hearts have ached so these last few days for Mrs. 
 Lothrop and Amy. That little baby's death must have 
 been so doubly bitter to them, with his mother and father 
 both across the ocean, tho' they have done everything 
 that love and anxiety could suggest or care do, and if he 
 had been Amy's child I don't think she could have been 
 more devoted to him. He has scarcely been out of her 
 arms, and when mamma called there the other day, the 
 little white thing lay quite still on her lap only rousing 
 himself to stroke her face. She came to see me ten days 
 ago and spoke of him so much and with such tender- 
 ness quite engrossed with him apparently. She said 
 that tho' Dr. Putnam said nothing serious ailed him, she 
 couldn't help being very anxious. The funeral was on 
 Friday and Bessie Fiske said both Amy and Mrs. Loth- 
 rop looked fearfully broken. A baby's death is always 
 heartrending, I think. It is so hard to think of them 
 apart from the little helpless bodies Its weakness and 
 pain may reconcile them to giving it back to the arms 
 where no pain can touch it any more. I had a long 
 letter from Mrs. Whitman last night saying she had 
 planned a pilgrimage to see me, but had been dissuaded 
 by the doctors, who said women of 85 now caught the 
 mumps with as much gaiety as they had embraced it 
 81 years before. I am glad she was so wise. Think 
 how we shall miss her and till October! 
 
 Always your loving 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 25 129 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 [June 4.] 
 
 MUMPJAWS, MANCHESTER. 
 Dear N'Elinor, 
 
 If you will persist in running your head into the 
 mumpy lion's mouth, no one can prevent it; and the 
 lion himself will be pleased to see you, though he'll have 
 to roar you as gently as a sucking dove. I really have 
 assumed almost my usual graceful outlines this morn- 
 ing, but the trouble with my mump is that it is tidal in 
 its nature and rises and falls under the influence of the 
 moon. However, I manage to pouch a good deal in spite 
 of it, and if it wasn't for what Johnson would call its 
 infectuosity, I should not care; but I am a little tired of 
 playing the part of the sleeping partner Jorkins. Love 
 to Father Damien, and any day after eleven or after half 
 past four I shall be pleased and proud to exhibit 
 
 Your 
 
 NAN. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Monday, June 18. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I had intended to write on Saturday, but it was so very 
 warm that I put it off till the next day, which turned 
 out to be a " ring-tailed-roarer " with three rings round 
 its tail. You never saw such a day beginning with 
 80 degrees at breakfast 93 degrees in the shade at noon 
 and still 88 degrees at six o'clock with not a breath 
 the oven-bird alone breaking the hot stillness with his
 
 130 1894 
 
 appropriate melody. Then an immense blood-red moon 
 rose upon the scene, and we fancied Mrs. Bell and Mrs. 
 Pratt having recourse to "the Choate pill," which is a 
 strong anti-nervous compound which they take before 
 thunder storms and other startling events. Mrs. Bell 
 wrote to say that she would have come up to talk it all 
 over only she was in so liquid a state she would have 
 had to be brought in a cup. She spent her day with 
 Stanley's "Jewish Church" and whenever Abraham 
 came to a well she shrieked with envy. Isn't she per- 
 fectly delightful? Not only so amusing but so warm- 
 hearted and so full of interests. Just to hear her talk 
 is a liberal education, and after seeing her one wants to 
 get into a library just crammed with books and 
 stay there. We were so glad Ellen Hooper had a chance 
 to enjoy part of one of her calls when she came down to 
 lunch with us Wednesday. She had only barely met 
 her before and tore herself away reluctantly enough 
 perfectly fascinated. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman, too. She came to see me for the last 
 time Thursday, and tho' we didn't say goodbye it was 
 sad enough and left me gloomier than if she hadn't come 
 at all. It made me appreciate how dependent I was on 
 her, and how precious the sight of her was to us all. 
 However, as Mrs. Beaumont says, apropos of such part- 
 ings, " the Lord loveth a cheerful giver." I had a note 
 from her this morning on board Yeats-Brown, she 
 said, told her not to take a French steamer l ' the 
 French were such terrible fellows you know If there 
 was the slightest danger they always blew out their 
 brains to save their honor."
 
 Aet. 25 131 
 
 Where are you now I wonder? but you're always in 
 my heart. Mamma and Paulina send love. 
 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Thursday, July 9th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 When I think that this is about the last letter I shall 
 have time to write you before you sail for home, it seems 
 almost too good to be true! Just think the very last if 
 I should wait my fortnight. This letter should have 
 been written yesterday only it was a day full of what is 
 to me dissipation. In the first place Bessie Foster came 
 Monday, and we laughed and talked almost steadily till 
 she went on the 1-40 train yesterday, and in the after- 
 noon I dressed and went downstairs and entertained 
 Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Dalton and Ellen Hooper on the 
 mound or rather Mrs. Bell entertained us all. I hap- 
 pened to mention Delia Bacon whose "life was too busy " 
 according to her biographer, l ' for any of those passages 
 which lead to matrimony," and Mrs. Bell gave us a most 
 amusing account of Miss Bacon's Lectures on History, 
 which she attended as a girl in the vain hope of hear- 
 ing some spicy detail about Richard Coeur de Lion. 
 When they were half through, she told her father she 
 would go no more. "Miss Bacon had given six lec- 
 tures and they had got as far as chaos." She was one 
 of the first, Mrs. Bell said, to go mad on the Bacon- the- 
 real-Shakespeare theory and died literally of a broken 
 heart, on not finding certain papers in Shakespeare's
 
 132 1894 
 
 tomb when it was opened for her. I told Mrs. Bell I 
 should have thought nothing in the tomb could have 
 proved her theory, unless indeed it had been the dis- 
 covery of a couple of " flitches." This of course is pro- 
 fane, but when it comes to proving that Bacon and his 
 "Rosicrucian" friends not only wrote " Hamlet " but 
 the "Heavenly Twins" it is almost too much. By the 
 way, the literary mother of the twins is going to give 
 readings in Boston next winter shall you and Mrs. 
 Whitman go? Bessie told us such a delightful remark 
 made by Florence Lockwood to Cornelia Aldis. ' ' As 
 Dante has done so much for us, don't you think we 
 ought to do a little something for his countrymen?" 
 That is what I call "literary slumming" with a ven- 
 geance. I tell Paulina that "considering all that Cal- 
 deron has made our homes, we ought to buy our oranges 
 from Valencia rather than from Florida." Apropos of 
 slumming, Mrs. Bell says how much simpler it would be 
 if we were Roman Catholics, and then one's spiritual 
 adviser would come in, and say, " Put down the ' Bride 
 of Lammermoor ' and go to 4 Skunk Court " ? 
 
 Among yesterday's gaieties I forgot to mention a long 
 call of Mrs. Quincy Shaw which I missed. She told 
 Paulina a great deal about the Faith-Cure, and Paulina 
 said it was delightful to hear about it from the point of 
 view of an enthusiastic believer, who is also an intelli- 
 gent spiritually-minded woman. Heretofore we have 
 sat in the seat of the scornful, and have thought of it and 
 explained its power, as Mr. Hooper says he does, because 
 it is like the reason why James Freeman Clarke's horse 
 liked his nose rubbed with snow, " It was a new idee." 
 Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Lyman went to Mrs. Dresser, on 
 one occasion, but she told some one that she could do
 
 Aet. 25 133 
 
 nothing for such worldly people!!! Mrs. Bell, on hear- 
 ing this, said "a creed ought to be wide enough to in- 
 clude a person whose dress happened to fit well." 
 
 But if I begin to tell you all the cunning things Mrs. 
 Bell has said this last fortnight, I shall never stop and 
 you are supposed, at least, to take the deepest interest 
 in our daily round and common task. Today, there is 
 a lull, I am glad to say, and mamma has just jogged 
 over to do the marketing (a yeast-cake and five cents of 
 parsley). 
 
 I've been very good for nothing this long while. The 
 day I wrote you we had a long call from Mr. Hooper, 
 and after him the deluge! such a storm crashed down 
 over us that when we saw Mrs. Bell the next day, we 
 embraced like friends who had survived the Reign of 
 Terror. Then the heats came back, only worse than 
 ever, and in the midst of it Aunt Florence to pass Sun- 
 day. Luckily she had come from Richmond, Maine, 
 where the thermometer had been at 106 degrees all day 
 in the shade, and even then she didn't find it much bet- 
 ter, so you can fancy our state! Fortunately the ther- 
 mometer had been smashed early Saturday, so we were 
 left in blissful ignorance of what height it might have 
 gone to. 
 
 Mrs. Higginson has gone to Newport for a short visit, 
 so I and my slips are trying to get along without her 
 constant visits and attention. She and Mr. Higginson 
 were here together Sunday, and the week before that 
 broiling Saturday they brought up a dozen of Mr.
 
 134 1894 
 
 Le Farge's Samoan water colors and we forgot even the 
 heat in looking at his tropical forests and oceans with 
 the clouds reflected in them, and breaking surf and 
 strange greenish moonlights. Several were so beauti- 
 ful that they have haunted us ever since. Mamma 
 and Paulina are well and want to send their dearest 
 love. 
 
 Always affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 25, 
 Wednesday morning. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Mamma and Paulina are well, as are also the livestock; 
 and I have a new hobby which I ride with immense 
 zeal and vigor about my room and piazzas. This is a 
 mania for gardening, especially slipping in fact I have 
 become a "slipsomaniac," and Mrs. Higginson and Joe 
 Clarke abet me with rose shoots, model flower-pots, little 
 things to dig with and enthusiastic advice There is 
 such a watering and lifting in and out of heavy plants, 
 and dirt spilling, and re-setting, that my family are fast 
 getting over any horticultural tastes they may have had; 
 and I begin to long for Warner's ' ' cast iron back with 
 a hinge in it " which he said was requisite for garden, 
 ing. Keep well, won't you, and bring back a large stock 
 of animal spirits to face next winter with? 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 25 135 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Monday [July]. 
 My dear Mrs. Paine, 
 
 I have been meditating on what you wrote mamma 
 and what you said to us about ' ' War and Peace, " and 
 I don't think, for the sake of the many of us who like 
 the book, we ought to submit to such scathing anathemas 
 without a word in our own defence. Mrs. Dalton told 
 me, laughing, that she has so often said she liked a book 
 only to have some one interrupt with "But isn't it 
 rather coarse?" that she now says, "I have been 
 reading Watts' Hymns. They are very coarse in places 
 to be sure but" and so on. Seriously, however, I 
 don't think you do ' ' War and Peace " even scant justice. 
 It is most evidently, it seems to me, as well as in real- 
 ity, written by a man of sensitively moral feelings, and 
 tho' there are descriptions in it of painful facts (not 
 omitted in English books but stated less baldly) I think 
 the book as a whole as well as the principal characters 
 in it "make for righteousness." Wrong is never called 
 right, and one is not asked to sympathize with any one 
 who having fallen is not capable of real repentance. 
 The story of the hero, Prince Andre, is the story of the 
 spiritual growth of a young man of pure and blameless 
 life; and altho' you speak of the book's degrading and 
 lowering the passion of love, Andre's love for Natascha, 
 at least, had nothing sensual in it. He felt, it said con- 
 stantly, the charm of her soul, and even Pierre's feeling 
 for her was the adoration of an ideal entirely out of his 
 reach. Natascha tho' fascinating was well! Russian! 
 It is hard to understand her aberration for that horrible
 
 136 1894 
 
 Anatole, but not impossible to forgive it, do you think 
 so? but I'm afraid you do and then there is Pierre 
 with his high ideals, constant falls and weak will. You 
 do not think Tolstoi has a right to present such a per- 
 son for us to take interest in? but surely you think it 
 is a legitimate part of art to paint fairly the struggles 
 and falls of a man, even as erring as he is so long as 
 there is struggle? It seems to me that that is the line 
 that divides such writers as Tolstoi and Meredith from 
 what are called the Modern Realists. If the aspiration 
 exceeds the weakness, if the noble slowly conquers the 
 ignoble, the higher self the lower self, it is worthy of rec- 
 ord; but if it is only a description of the purely animal 
 (however artistically done), the foul and seamy side of 
 life with no upward tendency no moral struggle, I 
 don't think even you could feel about it more strongly 
 than I do. 
 
 To leave Pierre and discuss the question in the ab- 
 stract. Ethel says you don't think having an ideal side 
 or rather a side capable of high ideal standards 
 compatible with a life open to the lower forms of temp- 
 tation, but surely to insist that real religious fervor is 
 never divorced from moral conduct is to deny that the 
 old painters had inspiration because their lives were 
 often stormy to deny that because Coleridge had great 
 weakness of will and moral fibre, he was not a great 
 spiritual thinker, and above all to deny the authorship 
 of the psalms to the historical David. 
 
 This is more like a Unitarian (!) sermon than a letter, 
 but Ethel will tell you our little personal news. She 
 and Paulina are, strangely enough, at the Higginsons' 
 listening to Mrs. Field's reading and they lunch there. 
 It has been so delightful having Ethel and I only wish I
 
 Aet. 25 137 
 
 had been a little better, but I haven't quite recovered 
 from that hot Friday. As our old station master told 
 Mr. Pratt " Hell has no further terrors for me." That 
 was Friday when he said it and he expressed the feeling 
 of the Shore. Hot or cold I am 
 
 Always most affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Sunday, August 12. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Mrs. Bell said Delia Bacon need never have gone mad 
 had she had what scientists called other "environment" 
 if she could have rocked, for instance, with us com- 
 monplace people on the mound ; but I told her that only 
 people of well-balanced mind could "set in chairs" on 
 "Rydal Mount" owing to the lay of the land. Indeed 
 Paulina and Ellen only held on by their eyelids Mrs. 
 Bell was so amusing on the subject of Drummond's 
 Lowell Lectures which she had just been reading, but if 
 I once begin on Mrs. Bell's cunning remarks I shall 
 never stop. She was perfectly delightful Friday when 
 the lunch came off so was Mrs. Pratt, and Mrs. Lodge 
 was, it is needless to say, more affectionate and fas- 
 cinating than ever. 
 
 Isn't this cool weather delightful? Last night I sat 
 at supper in a fur-cape, and the glare of the candles on 
 Uncle Melly's birthday cake was grateful. " Hamlet " 
 gave him a little bark in an envelope, fastened with a
 
 138 1894 
 
 symbolic bachelor's button, and insisted upon sharing 
 his candy with him in return. This morning Paulina 
 is twenty-two and feels depressed and crone-like in con- 
 sequence. She says if she hasn't intense youth to fall 
 back on, what will explain her manners? As I 
 loudly address Hamlet as "puppy" when he barks at 
 passers-by. Birthdays seem to be the order of the 
 week Mrs. Higginson had one Thursday and we gave 
 her that big photograph of Van Dyck's Mr. Higginson. 
 
 Always affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 Thursday Afternoon [August 31]. 
 Dear Elinor, 
 
 This is to tell you that I am really beginning to feel 
 less like a jelly-fish than I have (the poisonous crimson 
 ones that bite if you step on them) tho' I haven't got 
 further than lying stranded away from the reach of the 
 waves. This means in English that I don't sit up yet 
 nor read nor do anything. This is my first note and 
 
 I am rather proud of it. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 My own darling, 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Tuesday Morning [October]. 
 
 Hamlet is the greatest comfort tho' his spirits, if any- 
 thing, are a trifle low. All yesterday he clung to my
 
 Aet. 25 139 
 
 bed as if it were a raft on troubled seas, and he and I 
 the lone survivors of a large ship- wrecked company. He 
 sends you a damp kiss to which the Judge adds two 
 pecks for "self and Valty." 
 
 Nothing remarkably striking has occurred since five 
 o'clock yesterday, except a call from Dr. Mason and 
 Nunc's return from Pittsfield . Robert was looking very 
 ill, he thought. . . . They go to Gibraltar and Algiers 
 in January, whether the patent-educator is secured or 
 not. 
 
 Did you have enough lunch and wasn't it chillsome 
 enough to make the lachrymose Fleda shed tears of 
 gratitude for the loan of Guy Carleton's fur cloak? 
 Give my best love to every one and take care of your 
 dear self, for you are still dear to me. 
 
 Your own 
 Miss NAN. 
 
 Noon. 
 
 We have just got your first letter How nice it all 
 sounds. Mrs. Whitman gets in at nine tonight. I am 
 going to wake her by a red-rose tomorrow morning 
 from 48 to 7Y? 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Friday Noon [October], 
 Bad Miss: 
 
 No letter all yesterday and none so far today! Has 
 it gone like your Chicago ones, to Winchester or Nan- 
 tucket, or has it taken the slow-train to Weedon? It 
 is dampening to the spirit of an ardent correspondent.
 
 14:0 1894: 
 
 On the bed, done up in Valty's petticoat, is the most 
 pathetic tiny little catkin all ragged brown fur and 
 whiskers, and just beginning to revive on warm milk 
 after her long journey which she began yesterday from 
 Deerfield. She got here two hours ago almost dead 
 from hunger, cold and exhaustion. 
 
 Thursday afternoon, Mrs. Whitman ran in for a sec- 
 ond little call and brought me such a cunning battered 
 old seal almost as large as her own and a great deal 
 more proper St. Martin treading on a fascinating 
 curly dragon. Remembering the ivory-duck incident, 
 and your insulting remarks about my gift instincts, you 
 pert young person, I particularly inquired if it was 
 meant for me. Of course it was and then she took 
 not a dial from her poke but a cunning turquoise and 
 silver filigree cross which in my mind's eye I see pro- 
 truding from under your dark blue street-dress button- 
 hole and said, "Give this to my Paulina," which I 
 shall if you behave well. My live gift to her is picking 
 up, and a more ludicrous little bunch you never saw 
 Mamma quite dotes and Fatima has selected her shoulder 
 as a soft place to curl up and view the country. 
 
 If this rug had any of the properties of a wishing car- 
 pet, I should lie down on it and be whisked off to your 
 and Elinor's side under the apple-tree with the lake and 
 the meadows, the calves and colts and all the dear human 
 creatures Alack! poor cockney! Mrs. Whitman told 
 me, apropos of cockneys, of Mrs. Bell's amazement on 
 seeing asparagus growing. Mrs. Pratt said, "Why, 
 Helen, how can you be such a fool! What did you
 
 Aet. 26 141 
 
 think?" "Well," said Mrs. Bell, " I always supposed 
 the cook braided the ends!!" 
 With lots of love to all. 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 Wednesday, Nov. 21. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Your last letter sounded so tired and sad that I have 
 longed to write you ever since, but the mere physical 
 exertion is still a good deal of a drawback, and my 
 "well" days consist of very few available moments. 
 Between twelve and luncheon, I am allowed to see one 
 or two people, and after five if I am strongly tempted, 
 (which means if it happens to be Mrs. Whitman, the 
 Higginsons, Mrs. Bell and so on) when Paulina presides 
 over the tea things, and I sit propped up in bed airing a 
 whole new collection of befrilled jackets. All the rest 
 of the time, I lie quite still, except between 9.30 and 
 10.30, when I sit up in a blanket, see my cook, order 
 my meals and do a little bit of reading. In a few weeks 
 I fondly hope to be dressed and downstairs again at 
 least I do hope it, when I'm not having a " down-time," 
 when moving ever again seems utterly out of the ques- 
 tion and now about yourself, dear? Are you rested 
 at all and reconciled to going back after what must have 
 been a great disappointment giving up the hope of 
 being in Boston this winter. You see I heard of that 
 plan, and then nothing till your letter from Louisville: 
 and you don't say whether you are living in the same
 
 142 1894 
 
 place and keeping house with Miss Seabury (?) as you 
 did last year? but don't tire yourself writing to me. 
 You ought to keep yourself for your work, and I have 
 no work except to keep my absent friends posted up in 
 the gossip of that little bit of familiar world which 
 beats up my doorsteps. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S.
 
 Aet. 26 143 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 
 Tuesday, January 15. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 It was very nice to get such a long letter from you 
 and hear how interesting you found your work, and how 
 much better you were and how much cheered up since 
 you wrote last. 
 
 Indeed I am getting a great deal stronger and sit up 
 almost every evening at tea-time, and see my average 
 five selected friends a day without paying a heavy 
 price for it in palpitation and sinking when evening 
 sets in. Soon I hope to get to drive. I manage things 
 much better now and receive any one I want to see up- 
 stairs without a blush. Indeed, I tell Elinor I have 
 been so long bed-ridden that I feel as if I had four wal- 
 nut legs ending neatly in castors, and rather enjoy ex- 
 hibiting my pink jackets to Mr. Higginson and Mr. 
 Hooper and Dr. Bigelow. As for Mrs. Higginson and 
 Mrs. Whitman, Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Dexter they all dis- 
 courage my getting up, and seem to think it a comfort 
 to know some one who is always at home. Paulina 
 says what makes this room attractive is that no subject 
 of general interest and no great question is ever dis- 
 cussed (like the private-spirited man) and we unblush- 
 ingly ask people to five o'clock lotus. It is a place where 
 any one can take laughing gas and have their wisdom 
 teeth extracted without pain. Apropos of great ques- 
 tions, Paulina makes her first appearance this afternoon 
 at the Tuesday Club, where she says she proposes to dis- 
 cuss the u lsness of the Was" with Miss Agnes Irwin.
 
 144: 1895 
 
 At first she was overcome with blushes on getting 
 the announcement of her election as substitute, and 
 looked I told her as Major Pendennis did when he 
 asked if the plucking was done in public. She accepted, 
 however, tho' still feeling that it was the hall-mark of 
 spinster-hood. Like the bud who saw a girl of twenty- 
 two at some ball this winter, and asked if that old war- 
 horse were still going! This is not an exaggerated type 
 of Boston society, and Paulina's invitations have fallen 
 off surprisingly this winter, but she still has enough 
 pleasuring to keep her amused. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss ISABELLA CURTIS. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 Friday Morning, Feb. 15. 
 Dear old Bella, 
 
 It shan't be said that I let my Elizabeth go off so far 
 and stay so long without one line from her devoted 
 Anna, but Anna's thoughts speed faster than her pen 
 and her heart bears the Jamaica post-mark, as you 
 know. Perhaps that accounts for it. And then Paulina 
 has stolen all my thunder. However when she wrote 
 Monday, she didn't know that Bay would telegraph late 
 in the afternoon that he was ill in Washington, and that 
 after a few futile attempts at securing the indispensable 
 one man, we should have to settle down to a hen dinner 
 with Ellen and Mrs. Whitman, a stately meal and best 
 clothes alone to mark it a festive occasion. And after all 
 we had a most merry time only dampened by the Paines'
 
 Aet. 26 145 
 
 dance which seemed to cast its shadow before. Ellen 
 and Paulina went off in lamentation and woe, which re- 
 minded us of the sprightly mood in which you used to 
 look forward to your gaieties, had a very pleasant time 
 and didn't come back till one, leaving Elinor still in the 
 giddy throng. Elinor is growing disgracefully young, 
 but we are going to try and sober her Wednesday by 
 having her to dine with her running mates, Mrs. Bell 
 and Mr. Edward Hooper, tho' I don't know that Mrs. 
 Bell is a very good receipt for sobering any one. Doesn't 
 it sound rather juicy? the dinner I mean, or rather the 
 meal. We don't call these weird affairs dinners, bear- 
 ing in mind the fact that * ' One swallow-tail coat doesn't 
 make a party." 
 
 Do you happen to know by personal experience that 
 yesterday was St. Valentine's Day? Well (triumphantly) 
 I do, for Fanny brought me the prettiest embroidered 
 cloth just to fit my tea tray and a sketch of Rock Har- 
 bor for Paulina, who had one other valentine and sent 
 one. 
 
 Valentina and the Judge were married yesterday, and 
 they had wedding cards sent out, in which the Misses 
 Smith had the honor to announce etc. at the Church of 
 St. Francis of Assisi and a magnificent white azalia 
 bush came from Mrs. Whitman and a frosted cake with 
 white ribbons and Shakespearian quotations from Mrs. 
 Bell and Mrs. Pratt. You see we and our friends are 
 just as foolish as ever. 
 
 Your fond but tired 
 
 NANNY.
 
 146 1895 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Saturday. 
 Dearest, dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I was only told this morning of the awful grief and 
 desolation that has come to you. There is nothing to 
 be said, no words of human comfort that can reach you, 
 I know, but my heart and thoughts and prayers are 
 with you always; and the other world must seem very 
 close, and the rest of the journey very short till the time 
 when we shall be forever with all those we love and no 
 parting more. In the face of the Eternities of love and 
 grief, Time seems very short and present loneliness the 
 small price that Love must pay for its sacred memories 
 and great hopes. Do you remember this bit out of a 
 letter written by Mr. Brooks to a person in trouble 
 "There is" no help for you except the help which I know 
 that you have found, that which comes with the power, 
 in entire unselfishness, to rejoice for the happiness of 
 the soul which has gone to G-od, in the midst of the great 
 suffering which its going has brought to you. That is 
 the last devotion one can render to those who are dear- 
 est to us. When we do truly render it to them, then in 
 a true sense do we really go to the God to whom they 
 have gone and are with them in Him." 
 
 In the midst of the pain and loneliness may God gather 
 you in His arms, and comfort you, and make His face to 
 shine on you, and send you His peace that passeth un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 Your loving 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 26 147 
 
 To Miss ISABELLA CURTIS. 
 
 BOSTON, March 5. 
 Dear Bella, 
 
 We were much touched by Etta's card. I suppose you 
 have heard that the little de Vita de Marco has already 
 put in an appearance. The family received a cable last 
 week containing these mystic words; " Bring stacks 
 of safety pins " a product apparently not indigenous 
 to the Eternal city. 
 
 I suppose you have heard of your father's dissipa- 
 tions with Prince Volkonsky? Alice prophesied that 
 of course he would stay late, drinking vodka, wrestling 
 with bears and then would jump into his drosky, loosely 
 harnessed to wild tartar horses, and proceed to run down 
 numerous menials whom he had previously flung from 
 an upper window. Merry fellows those Russians. Of 
 course, the Prince's name is Serge. As Alice says, in 
 Russia, they name all their boys Serge and their daugh- 
 ters Alpaca. 
 
 The Prince the other day was at a small afternoon tea, 
 and was just leaving when he returned to his hostess, 
 asking her to introduce him to the charming old lady by 
 the fire, the only person in the room he had not met. 
 "Who is she?" "My mother." "Why will all you 
 Americans chew gum?" 
 
 Always your constant correspondents, 
 
 ALICE AND PAULINA.
 
 14:8 1895 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 [Mar. 13.] 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 It is such a comfort to think you are to be close among 
 us all next summer. I was sure that was what your 
 heart would dictate to come back among all the dear 
 familiar things and faces, where grief doesn't seem 
 strange and unreal but sweet and natural. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman quoted the other evening that beauti- 
 ful sentence of Stevenson's, " The consecration of mem- 
 ory," and I know that in it home and all that is con- 
 nected with it will be doubly dear and sacred to you 
 now. 
 
 Mamma says that you don't want me to come to you, 
 but that soon you will come to me. I was afraid the 
 idea of a visit from so stationary a person might be more 
 of a distress than a comfort, but I do long to go to you 
 just to tell you how I love you and want to help you. 
 
 Mamma and Mrs. Whitman bring me such comfort- 
 ing accounts of you. Perhaps the kindest thing any of 
 us can do is to leave you alone with the vision just 
 listening and resting in that God never fails those 
 like you, who have always walked in His ways. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Wednesday. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 
 Begun Thursday, Mar. 14. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 It was nice to get your letter the other day, and be- 
 fore that to picture you indulging in an afternoon tea
 
 Aet. 26 149 
 
 especially as I have been meaning to write you this long 
 time, but have been prevented by one thing and another 
 including the "grippe," which I had for the first and, I 
 trust, the only time about a month ago. I bore it with 
 considerable spirit, but it took up a whole fortnight of 
 my precious time as far as letter writing and society is 
 concerned and then this last week a great grief has 
 come to us thro' our dear Mrs. Dexter, whose husband 
 died quite suddenly last Thursday of heart-disease. It 
 was a beautiful painless way to go at home and in his 
 own bed, where he had gone early in the evening rather 
 tired from a business trip to Salem, and with his wife 
 within hearing of the hard breathing that was the only 
 warning they had that he was dying in his sleep proba- 
 bly. She bears it as she does everything, most sweetly 
 and unselfishly, but it leaves her delicate and childless 
 as she is broken and most piteously alone. She has 
 thousands of warm friends tho', among rich and poor, and 
 it is a comfort to think she is to be in her own house in 
 
 Manchester this summer. 
 
 \ 
 
 Yesterday Paulina had her photograph taken as Eliz- 
 abeth Bennet, in which character she made a distinct 
 success at the Fancy Ball a while ago. The Curtises 
 lent her the things and dressed her, and I can't tell you 
 how cunning she looked, from her white satin sandals 
 up to the top of her great tortoise-shell comb all dat- 
 ing back to 1810; and the ball itself seems to have been 
 not only a pretty sight but a delightfully pleasant party. 
 Even Dante so far forgot himself as to dance the Vir- 
 ginia Reel. And now I suppose you would like to have 
 a few statistics about my winter not a list of the 
 people who come to see me every day but what I do
 
 150 1895 
 
 and how I am generally. To begin at the end, I am as a 
 whole much more comfortable, and can scarcely believe 
 I am the same person I was in the early autumn, and I 
 walk up four stairs every day by way of exercise (I did 
 reach six, but it didn't agree with me and I have fallen 
 into humbler ways) and I have dined downstairs three 
 times since I wrote, with a few people in each time to 
 dine with us and make it a festal occasion As we 
 had Bessie Foster with Mrs. Bell and Dr. Bigelow the 
 first time and Ellen Hooper with Mrs. Whitman, and 
 Mrs. Bell again with Elinor and Mr. Hooper, there was 
 no trouble about the festivity, and I was borne upstairs 
 afterwards in triumph. 
 
 By the way did you see that serious protest against 
 the lions in the new Library, because they represented 
 force, and a suggestion that something should be put 
 up in their place "symbolic of Peace and the Union of 
 Man and Woman"? Mrs. Bell got laughing over it, 
 and said life was grown "so complicated nowadays 
 that one could not take a bath unless one faucet sym- 
 bolized Chastity and the other Immortality." 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 i 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [Mar. 27.] 
 My own darling Ethel, 
 
 Paulina has just got your sad birthday letter, and tho' 
 she is going to write, I feel as tho' I must send you a 
 line too just to tell you how dearly I love you for my 
 own sake. I wish I could stretch my arms across all
 
 Aet. 26 151 
 
 these hundred miles and hug you words always seem 
 so cold and formal, but you mustn't think you have no 
 friends nor say or think such things about yourself. 
 Do you remember St. Francis' I think it was St. 
 Francis' advice to a penitent, to be "douce envers soi" 
 And tho' birthdays are sad, like all anniversaries, I think 
 it must have been intended that we should gather new 
 hope to go on with, and ' ' forgetting those things which 
 are behind," should look on them as moments of vision 
 from which we can look out into what we may and 
 shall be, which no feeble past can dim. So much for 
 yourself; but for us, you know you have always been the 
 sweetest and most sympathetic, the humblest minded 
 and softest hearted, and if you insist upon being a but- 
 terfly it must be of the Psyche sort I think. I must get 
 up to prance on the stairs, but Paulina will tell you how 
 well I am and all the news. This is just to say (which 
 is not news at all) that I am, as always, 
 
 Yours most lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Wednesday. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 [Easter.] 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Mamma has worn your violets to church, and that 
 most beautiful of lilies stands by my window and makes 
 the whole room shine. Thank you for sending me the 
 poem, which I shall value highly, and which I had never 
 seen before and thank you for the note that came with 
 it. 
 
 Today, of all days, we are all thinking the same 
 thoughts bound together by the same great hopes.
 
 152 1895 
 
 Earth seems to lie so close to heaven on Easter that 
 death shrinks into a very little thing ' ( only the 
 change from the struggle to the victory, only the 
 opening of the dusk and twilight into the perfect 
 day." 
 
 Always, dear Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Very affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Easter Morning. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MT. VERNON ST., 
 Monday, April 29th. 
 Dear Bessie 
 
 You will be glad to hear how much I am able to do, 
 without encroaching on my margin either. I tell Paul- 
 ina I am so much better, I feel like a giant refreshed with 
 wine. Easter I was able to go to early Communion, 
 which I had longed very much to do, and since then on 
 sunny mornings instead of a poky drive, I go across the 
 street to Mrs. Whitman's grassy front yard where her 
 " Buttons " brings us out rugs and chairs, and I receive 
 my twelve o'clock callers, till the men come home at 
 luncheon time and carry me upstairs. You've no idea 
 what a festive scene we make nor what a gay time we 
 have Mrs. Bell and my "old guard" being varied by 
 an occasional baby-carriage, and a live young man or so 
 and of course the Curtises, Hoopers and Paines. The 
 first time Mrs. Whitman found us there she said we re- 
 minded her of a bit of newspaper criticism on a water- 
 color exhibition, "number 482 is the picture of a clear
 
 Aet. 26 153 
 
 strong picnic in Asia Minor." Then last Friday, I went 
 round to Dr. Bigelow's early to see his most beautiful 
 Bonif azio Madonna, and then stayed on to see the ' t folks " 
 who regularly drop in to tea with him after the concert. 
 Dickson, my steed, went with me, and of course Paulina, 
 and we had a delightful time and I was none the worse. 
 
 Always affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday Morning [May 18]. 
 Dear Elinor, 
 
 It's absurd to have daily bulletins about such a healthy 
 maladeimaginaire as I have become, but I thought you'd 
 like to know that I came like a bird or rather like the 
 birds starting rather thin with fright and beginning 
 to chirp at about Salem. Why didn't you tell us how 
 delightfully backward it was down here? real early 
 Spring, and not midsummer which we left with the dust 
 and the close air, the chattering sparrows and cockneys 
 in Boston town. If you say he's a cockney who is one 
 inwardly, I beg leave to remark that I've had a change 
 of heart since my foot was on my native heath (This for 
 the assessor) and that any thing lovelier than the view 
 from my window I shouldn't care to see and the birds 
 and the wind thro' the pines, oh my! and the little pink 
 oak-leaves against the sky. The sea is blue with cold 
 so is Paulina's nose This for her benefit. 
 
 Yours, 
 
 NANNY.
 
 154 1895 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 [May 22.] 
 
 MANCHESTER, Wednesday. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Paulina brought me rather a piteous account of you 
 but perhaps this proof of how physically done-up you 
 are will make you struggle less to do things you are 
 not up to yet. If you only would lie still and just shut 
 your eyes and try to forget all the outside jars and frets, 
 I am sure it would be better in the end and that you 
 would go back to work, when the time comes, stronger 
 and serener after that time of silence and refreshment. 
 But of course you know, as I can't, what really can't be 
 done by any one else. I was so glad to hear what a 
 beautiful call you had had from Mrs. Whitman she 
 always leaves one a little braver than she found one 
 and looking at things from a bit further up the hill- 
 side. 
 
 I have been re-reading Hinton's "Mystery of Pain " 
 which I understand better than I did at first and like 
 even more, and I have read for the first time Mrs. Tem- 
 pleman Coolidge's article on Christian Science, or rather 
 as she calls it "The Modern Expression of the Old- 
 est Philosophy." Some parts I can't quite grasp and 
 others I totally disagree with, but there is a great deal 
 of it that I found most beautiful and true from the 
 most spiritual standpoint. I wonder if you ever read 
 it and whether you wouldn't like it too? But these 
 question-marks don't mean that you are to answer me, 
 which you mustn't on any account. 
 
 By the way, you will be sorry to hear that my chair
 
 Aet. 26 155 
 
 on poles is a hideous failure. It came yesterday so I 
 went out and sat on my mound and had my lunch 
 downstairs. Everything was a success but my return. 
 It the chair I mean joggled and tipped do what 
 they would, and I was glad enough to be set down dizzy 
 and nauseated on my own floor. It felt like ' ' letting 
 the old cat die " in a swing and I felt like the old cat. 
 Have I made your head ache with my long letter? 
 
 Most lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. E. P. SAMPSON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Tuesday, May 28. 
 My dear Aunt Florence, 
 
 I received your letter yesterday and my heart aches 
 for you all for you and Mary even more than dear 
 Robert himself. I wish there were anything I could 
 do except to have you in my thoughts. It is, as you 
 say, very hard to understand but not so inexplicable 
 and bitter as it would be if he had not grown so in 
 sweetness and strength thro' this long discipline of 
 pain and weakness and, what is even harder to bear 
 for men, deprivation. To have seen that "the inward 
 man " has been "renewed day by day " must be a con- 
 stant and lasting source of comfort to you whatever 
 the Future has in store for you and pride and joy must 
 struggle with the overwhelming pain and regret. Does 
 he suffer much actual pain now or is it mostly weak- 
 ness? and what a comfort it must be to have him 
 safe at home again. Perhaps when the warm weather 
 comes and he has had time to get over the effects of 
 his journey (and the nervous strain of it must have
 
 156 1895 
 
 been very trying for him) he will be able to enjoy sit- 
 ting out of doors. The elevator will make things so 
 much simpler for him. Unless it distresses you too 
 much you must let us know how he is from time to 
 time, and will you please give him my dearest love? To 
 a certain extent I have been along the same path and 
 can understand. 
 
 Mamma told you perhaps how much better I am, and 
 tho' I had a bad turn Saturday night which has thrown 
 me back a little, I am on the whole remarkably well 
 even to the point of sleeping without sulphonal. I can 
 go up eleven stairs walking backwards which the 
 doctors have me do as it throws less strain on the 
 chest and three mornings I have gone out on to my 
 little upstairs piazza and had my breakfast with such 
 sights and sounds and smells about me that eating 
 seemed like a profanity. 
 
 We left Summer behind us in Boston and found early 
 Spring down here the apple-blossoms not even in bud 
 and even now the birches still "stand in a mist of 
 green" among the pine-trees and all the little things 
 are delightfully backward. It is like reading ones 
 favorite chapter in a novel over again to have two 
 Springs. 
 
 Mrs. Bell dislikes the approach of the summer-time so 
 much that she wants she says "to slap Nature's 
 green face " and frankly owns that "a three-ply in a 
 Chestnut Street garret is fairer to her than any carpet 
 of Nature, "but I think she is getting more reconciled. 
 We see her every day, and Mrs. Higginson, who, on the 
 other hand, loves every outdoor sight and sound as you 
 do. I hope you will be able to get into your woods as 
 soon as this November weather breaks. It was so very
 
 Aet. 26 157 
 
 kind of you to think of Paulina and me in the midst of 
 all your last winter's cares and anxieties. You must 
 let us thank you for that beforehand, and with hopes of 
 
 hearing better accounts soon I am, 
 
 Most lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday, June 20. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 Bay we expect shortly for a night or two here to say 
 good-bye a thing I detest. The result is I do very 
 little else. Next week Ethel and Mrs. Paine separately 
 make us little farewell visits before sailing July 2nd, 
 but that is to be only an affair of a few summer months 
 for which time Mrs. Lodge is to be away also, and Mr. 
 Higginson still lingers in England heedless of prom- 
 ises. I sometimes wish the Old World had never been 
 invented. And now I suppose you would like to hear 
 some sordid details about how we are and what we are 
 doing. Just at this moment I am lying out on my 
 little upstairs piazza, where I and my sofa move out be- 
 fore breakfast enjoying the sights and sounds and the 
 smell of warm pines with the line of sea for a back- 
 ground and nothing but the blue sky overhead. ' ' Ham- 
 let " is watching the road lest the rare passing cart 
 should escape without a hospitable bark, and inside 
 the screen-door "Judge Bird" is singing love-songs to 
 " Valentina" in the midst of my first presents of June 
 roses which came, hand over hand, so to speak, yester- 
 day. You see tho' the world goes on outside I and my
 
 158 1895 
 
 belongings remain pretty stationary, with a change of 
 sky-settings twice during the year. We moved the 
 fifteenth of May and as soon as the move was over felt 
 as if we had somehow got back into last summer and 
 the winter was all a dream. To be sure I am a giant 
 compared to what I was after the middle of August last 
 year but rather weak and helpless when I think of my- 
 self and all I could do this time last summer, but I am 
 very grateful to be free from so much pain and try hard 
 to keep within safe limits. I have learnt by sad ex- 
 perience how little it takes to throw me back. 
 
 Yesterday I had a quiet hour with my dear Mrs. Dex- 
 ter and missed Mrs. Pratt and Mrs. Higginson while she 
 was here, and the afternoon before Mrs. Bell sat with me 
 from five to six and Mrs. Whitman paid me a call in the 
 evening. All my days might be described with ditto, 
 ditto only Mrs. Bell comes oftenest and stays long- 
 est. I am reading lots of old books and a few new ones 
 new to me, I mean. Jowetts' translation of Plato's 
 " Republic " and Maurice's "Kingdom of Christ" and 
 Edward Emerson's life of his father and James Hinton's 
 life (which I read because I am so fond of his " Mystery 
 of Pain " do you know it, I wonder?) and Mr. Balfour's 
 "Foundations of Belief" one of the books which, as 
 Mrs. Bell says, "brings its crown to throw down." I 
 have scarcely left myself room to crowd in my love and 
 to tell you that later in the summer I count on your com- 
 ing down to pass a night, or at least to lunch with us. 
 
 In the meantime write and tell me how you are. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 ALICE W. S.
 
 Aet. 26 159 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Sunday Morning. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 So you are really going after all just as we had de- 
 cided that you wouldn't be able to get off. I am glad 
 you are on all your accounts, as you won't be able to 
 help having a good time when once you are off, but how 
 we shall miss you! or rather the feeling that you are 
 within reach, for Waltham, from the way its inhabitants 
 treat us, might as well be an isle in unsuspected seas. 
 This is a round-about way of saying that if you and 
 Ethel don't come down here and bid us good-bye you 
 may expect such a voyage as the Ancient Mariner had 
 after his unfriendly treatment of that confiding alba- 
 tross. 
 
 By the way what a perfect morning this is! I am 
 lying on my little upstairs piazza where I move out 
 before breakfast with the line of sea for background 
 and nothing but sky over my head and such a sweet 
 smell of warm pine-needles and growing things no 
 more signs alas! of spring, but all full summer tho' still 
 in its first freshness. Completion is always sad, isn't 
 it? I wonder if it wouldn't take out more than we 
 think from our lives if our happiness didn't always lie 
 beyond in expectancy and hope? But that's Brown- 
 ing, isn't it, with his "Who knows what's fit for us? 
 Had Fate proposed bliss here Still one must have some 
 life beyond Have a bliss to die with, dim descried " 
 and you'd probably rather hear prosaic details of how 
 well I bore Sunday's extraordinary heat, which I did
 
 160 1895 
 
 without any worse effects than a few days of limp- 
 ness every one felt. Mrs. Bell said she could only stare 
 vacantly into space like a drunken sphinx and then 
 think of a change of more than thirty-five degrees in 
 one day!! "And this is life," said Mr. Swiveller, apos- 
 trophizing space. Friday night I had a pretty bad turn 
 of pain but I'm getting nicely over it sleep generally 
 without sulphonal and climb fourteen steps back- 
 wards, which is supposed to be easier. Besides, haven't 
 I a hideous little carpet sedan chair come down from 
 town on trial, which is warranted to carry me over the 
 stairs without tipping or swaying or worst of all 
 the impropriety of being carried by Tom as you suggest. 
 
 Space alone compels me to pause. 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. E. P. SAMPSON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Friday [July 9]. 
 Dearest Aunt Florence, 
 
 Our thoughts have been with you day and night 
 with you and Mary. Words seem very poor and mean- 
 ingless at such a time in face of such a mystery 
 cruelly so if one did not know that those who stand 
 closest see the vision in the darkness and hear the voice 
 and so need no human speech to comfort them. No 
 matter how long foreseen, Death always comes unex- 
 pected with awful suddenness, but these years of pain 
 and weakness and limitations, so bravely borne, must 
 have made you see it differently when at last the long
 
 Aet. 26 161 
 
 hard fight was over and the victory won. One goes 
 down to the brink of the river with one who has been 
 long ill, as the friends of Mr. Ready-to-Halt did with 
 him, seeing with his eyes the chariots and horses on the 
 other side and hearing the last words he was heard to 
 say " Welcome life ! " 
 
 The triumphant certainty that ' ' 'tis death is dead, not 
 he," and that mortality has indeed been "swallowed 
 up of life," must have been close to you these terrible 
 days. It must be as if in a sense you had died too, and 
 you will be able to look on your grief and the piece of 
 life that is left in the light of that new knowledge. 
 
 May God help and comfort you. 
 
 Your loving niece, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 18th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Two hundred and fifty years ago Manchester was 
 founded, and some time earlier Governor Winthrop 
 may have stopped here on his way to Salem and re- 
 ceived strawberries and birch-bark baskets from the 
 Indians at all events he is going to today and this 
 quiet town is in an uproar. My crazy family left 
 the house at eight this morning when "Masconomo" 
 and his tribes begin to assemble then the * ' good ship 
 Arbella " is sighted at nine and Governor Winthrop (in 
 the person of Mr. Dana) with twenty pilgrim-fathers 
 in steeple-crown hats come ashore in small boats and are 
 received with dances and war-whoops. Speeches, din- 
 ing, flower-parades and fire works fill up the rest of the
 
 162 1895 
 
 day, and Mr. Russell Sturgis, who is marshal, will be in 
 the height of his glory. Mrs. Higginson had a dance 
 last night for a whole house full of boys and girls and 
 today she is exhibiting antiquities of Manchester in 
 her school house, tho' Mrs. Pratt said she had supposed 
 she and Mrs. Bell were the only antiquities Manchester 
 could boast. You see by all this that one needn't cross 
 the ocean to find the romantic Past. How are you all, 
 I wonder? In the spirit of the Farmer's Almanac we 
 have written across our mental calendar, ' ' Expect a let- 
 ter about this time" and bless that kitten! I could 
 write more easily if she didn't dart up and down my 
 arm and make dabs at my pen. She is getting so big 
 and lively now that no power on earth can stop her 
 playing with anything that strikes her as amusing, as 
 poor Hamlet knows to his cost, and I too. Just now 
 his tail and my writing things have fallen under her 
 favorable notice. 
 
 To MRS. E. P. SAMPSON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Sunday, July 20. 
 Dear Aunt Florence, 
 
 I thought that sometime you might like to read this 
 note which I had from Mrs. Whitman a week ago, and 
 then will you kindly send it back, as I should like to 
 keep it? Mrs. Whitman is a person to whom anyone 
 in trouble or bewilderment turns as instinctively as a 
 flower turns to the light, and they never turn to her in 
 vain. 
 
 Dear Aunt Florence, you have been much on our 
 hearts and will be during these days and weeks when
 
 Aet. 26 163 
 
 the grief grows heavier because it seems realer and the 
 loneliness makes itself felt. This sad death of Mr. 
 Arthur Brooks makes us all the more grateful that 
 dear Robert was at home among his own people and 
 that you were called on to face the first freshness of 
 your loss among the quiet hills with the fields and sun- 
 sets to speak to you what no spoken words can say. I 
 remember what a comfort the changing lights on the 
 sea and sky used to be to me two summers ago, tho' I 
 could only get the afterglow and just a bit of scarlet 
 behind the pines at sunset. All that glory and peace 
 seemed like a foretaste. 
 
 Mamma tells me you have such beautiful views it 
 is pleasant even to think of them and of your garden. 
 The roses that you sent me were lovely for two or three 
 days and the sweet-pease kept even longer. You have 
 Mr. Brooks's sermons, haven't you? If by any chance 
 you have not, may I send you the first volume with 
 three or four marked which I am sure would be com- 
 forting? 
 
 We long to hear just how you are and how Mary is 
 bearing up. Bravely, I know. Henry must be a help 
 and comfort to you now. 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MBS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Saturday, Aug. 10. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Here I am a poor solitary deprived of her sister for 
 three whole days and only half a person in consequence.
 
 164 1895 
 
 Of course we made as much fuss about it as if she were 
 going on an Arctic expedition instead of just to pass 
 Sunday with Dickson at Grerrish Island (and a dinner at 
 York Harbor with Bessie Foster thrown in). 
 
 Paulina wanted to get back Monday, for that is her 
 twenty-third birthday, and what do you think? only 
 promise not to tell her before the day that dear old 
 Mr. Curtis is going to give her some bit of handsome 
 jewelry an idea invented entirely out of his own head, 
 "a sort of wedding present," he explained, and when 
 Mrs. Curtis suggested that he might be called on some 
 day for a real one he said he would get her that too. 
 Perhaps he thought it safe to chance that at this late 
 date. And now what gleanings has Paulina left me in 
 the way of news? 
 
 Let me change the subject and ask if you know a 
 most superb poem by one Thompson called the ' ' Hound 
 of Heaven," but of course you do. It's only this family 
 that devotes itself entirely to what Sydney Smith called 
 ante-flood literature which reminds me that I've just 
 finished Maurice's "Kingdom of Christ" and feel as if 
 I were parting with an old friend. George ought to 
 read it sometime, if he hasn't already. I'm sure he 
 would find it most interesting and satisfying. Of course 
 it is the sort of book one has to lie on one's stomach to 
 read comfortably and so it has been my companion all 
 summer in consequence. But there, I won't give you a 
 whole card catalogue of all the books we are reading. 
 We were interested tho' to find for Paulina and Mrs. 
 Bell and I have just got thro' this new life of Mary 
 Shelley that Mr. Yeats-Brown knew Trelawney and
 
 Aet. 26 165 
 
 that his father knew both Byron and Shelley when they 
 were in Italy that Shelley's house, to which he was 
 going when he was drowned, is the next point to them. 
 The Browns knew Garibaldi too their nephew went 
 with him to Sicily in fact they open a delightful vista 
 of familiar names near to (what a weird figure of speech 
 that is!) It sounds like the lawyer who said, "We are 
 now embarked upon that feature of the case on which 
 the whole matter hinges." But my time and my paper 
 are both coming to a close and I haven't begun to say 
 what I wanted to say. 
 
 It was so nice to get your long letter and to be able 
 to fancy you in lovely places not unfamiliar. We went 
 to Salisbury and Raglan, and passed two days rowing 
 down the Wye as far as Chepstow in that trip from one 
 Cathedral to another when Papa said he felt no day was 
 really full unless he had seen at least one crypt. With 
 our mind's eye too we shall be able to see Chatsworth 
 and Haddon and the Peacock Inn at Rowsley with you, 
 but alas! the Lakes on one side and Devonshire on the 
 other are dim. That journey which we took all together 
 remains like a green spot in my memory, as I am sure 
 this trip will in yours. Not but what I don't wish 
 sometimes that Europe had never been invented to rob 
 me of my friends. Fancy four long winter months with- 
 out Mrs. Bell. In the meanwhile she is more delight- 
 ful than ever and more devoted. Tuesday she took 
 supper here with Mr. Hooper, and Thursday morning 
 she called, and Friday afternoon, and tomorrow she is 
 coming, she says, as well as today. Mrs. Higginson 
 and Mrs. Whitman come between whiles, as well as 
 Hoopers and Curtises and all those casual people who 
 come to "five o'clock Mosquito " with me on my mound.
 
 166 1895 
 
 I keep pretty well indeed, very well for me, and am 
 perfectly revelling in this delicious summer which seems 
 to be made for me. Bright sunny days without heat 
 and without thunder storms. 
 
 I ought to stop but hate to tho' the pen wobbles. 
 Ethel is a dear faithful thing to write so much and so 
 often. Please give her and Lily my dearest love and 
 with much to yourself from Mamma and me. 
 
 Very affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Thursday, Oct. 10. 
 Dear Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Here's a royal morning perhaps a royal purple 
 morning would be more appropriate, to judge by the 
 noses of the chilled admirers of the shining sky and sea. 
 I think of going out for a little drive at twelve per- 
 haps to sit upon my beach. I can't think it is for the 
 last time nor that this lovely summer is almost a thing 
 of the past. Paulina has brought me in a great arm- 
 ful of crimson oak-branches and golden beeches but 
 neither that nor this cold can convince me that autumn 
 is really upon us. The troops of trunks in the hall 
 and other companion-discomforts are an unpleasant re- 
 minder. What has happened since you went? I have 
 had a nice call from Mrs. Whitman, and Tuesday (in the 
 rain) Paulina and I went down to Mrs. Pratts to hear 
 her and Mrs. Bell play, and spent the most delightful 
 hour. They were just alone, and welcomed us in that 
 pleasant parlor of theirs with a big wood fire and a cat
 
 Aet. 26 167 
 
 before it, to give the last homelike touch, and then they 
 played us a beautiful thing of Schubert's and a move- 
 ment from Beethoven's Second Symphony and a polo- 
 naise of Rubenstein's. I told Mrs. Bell it was like being 
 cut adrift from my aching old body for awhile and al- 
 lowed to drift on an ocean of beauty and light. What 
 their music must have been to those two in the midst 
 of anxiety and sorrows and disappointments. A new 
 world above the dust and turmoil and wings to reach 
 it with. 
 
 I hope you are coming back rested and refreshed, but 
 don't write. I am looking forward to a week from 
 Sunday, when I hope to see you in my own room. Till 
 
 then and always 
 
 Your most loving 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 FAYERWEATHER ST., 
 CAMBRIDGE!!! [October] Thursday. 
 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I sent a pencil scrawl to mamma last night by Dick- 
 son, but my first note shall be to you. 
 
 How I wish you could see me here in my little Japan- 
 ese sitting room filled with flowers and pretty things, or 
 still better in the big bed-room next door with its four 
 windows facing sunset and the distant hills. A cock 
 in their own hen-yard was the first sound I heard this 
 morning and I looked straight out miles away to where 
 the blue rim of hills lay misty in sunlight. I don't feel 
 as if I had ever seen the sky before! I have Mrs. Gur- 
 ney's room and it is full of beautiful things and so big
 
 168 1895 
 
 and white and gold, with a great Richardson mantel 
 piece and fire place, but all that I will tell you of later. 
 The pictures downstairs and up are like a new world 
 to me. If it wasn't for certain human tugs at my 
 heart-strings who can tell whether I should ever return 
 to my small, dingy home? Their coachman came in 
 and brought us out at noon and we had a long bask in 
 the sun before luncheon. Ellen is dearer than ever, and 
 all the little sisters and Mr. Hooper. New scenes don't 
 make one forget old affections, do they? and you are 
 
 always in my heart of hearts. 
 
 Your 
 
 ALICE. 
 Ellen sends her best love. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 FAYERWEATHER ST., 
 
 CAMBRIDGE!!! Thursday [October 24]. 
 My N'Elinor, 
 
 I told Bella I should drop you a line from here and 
 so here it is. What do you think of it? as Mrs. Bell 
 would say. I'm lying in the little Japanese sitting 
 room, surrounded by all the luxuries of the season, in- 
 cluding pinks and violets and lilies-of-the-valley and 
 Maillard candy the last two a present from Mr. 
 Hooper. I sleep in a beautiful Cathedral next door 
 and to cross from my fire to my looking glass have 
 to put on seven-league bed slippers. I try hard not 
 to be proud and to remember with kindness my dingy 
 old home and my dingy old friends. Nothing could be 
 sweeter than the dear little Hoopers except our Ellen 
 She is as pleased and anxious over me as a boy with 
 say a baby-zebra.
 
 Aet. 26 169 
 
 Today I go down to see Mr. Cony Smith and his fam- 
 ily at the Warren. (Did we tell you, by the way, that 
 Dickson's dog had had her litter consisting of what do 
 you think? one sickly female and no more? The joke 
 is worth the price of admission to his family at least.) 
 
 Tomorrow Mrs. James dines here, and Dr. Bigelow. 
 Mr. James alas! couldn't come. Give my love to Bella 
 
 and Fanny. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 Miss NAN. 
 To HER MOTHER. 
 
 FAYERWEATHER ST., 
 CAMBRIDGE ! ! ! Friday Morning. 
 
 My own darling Momb, 
 
 We received your note and the Important mail with 
 joy. So our Sans-Gene did miss us, the dear, and you 
 like an aged duck went and fetched her down before 
 breakfast! She must have miowed pretty loud, I'm 
 afraid or was Nunc dancing a war-dance in the upper 
 entry? Is he going to Bolton Sunday? I do wish he 
 could see me here! 
 
 Today is obligingly dark and grim as I couldn't go 
 down at noon, but I am saving myself up for dinner, 
 when Ellen expects Mrs. James and Dr. Bigelow (if a 
 bad cold permits him to appear). Yesterday I went 
 down at twelve and sat out in the sun for nearly two 
 hours and was carried up before lunch. A week-old 
 calf was brought in from the barn to call on me just 
 think of that! and we are waked by the crowing of 
 Hooper cocks. Every afternoon we see the sunset over 
 Arlington Heights.
 
 170 1895 
 
 Dickson has told you how I spent the promised hour 
 with him and how delighted I was with his house, but 
 he can't have told you how pleased I was with his clus- 
 ter of chicks little Melville, dancing in an ecstacy be- 
 fore the baby and stroking her face, made the prettiest 
 picture. She is a perfect dear and he is splendid. 
 I am happy and not homesick. Like those shipwrecked 
 Greeks on Circe's island we are saved from enchant- 
 ment only by the sprig of "Moly" in our bosoms. 
 
 Kiss all four pets for me. 
 
 Your 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELLEN S. HOOPER. 
 
 Thursday [October 31]. 
 My Ellen, 
 
 I hope you miss us and feel a slight pang when you 
 run upstairs with your hands full of nuts only to find 
 the tin shelf empty and the wire wheel still? 
 
 It seems so strange to be without you and I haven't 
 realized yet that my visit is over. But that it only is 
 in one sense. The week went all too swiftly, but your 
 home will be a home to my spirit for many a long day. 
 
 Kiss all the girls for me and beg them not to forget us. 
 
 I feel utterly unable to express what being among 
 you all has meant to me. It has enlarged my visible 
 world so much and left a sunny green spot in my mem- 
 ory. " My eyes see pictures when they are shut." 
 
 It is as if you had broken a big gap in my prison 
 walls and let in the sky. You know without my tell- 
 ing you that all the beautiful new world it opened to 
 me is doubly dear and sacred as bringing me closer to 
 you and to your past.
 
 Aet. 26 171 
 
 Dearest Ellen, you must let me tell you just this 
 once! your love is a thing I thank God for when I 
 wake and pray to be worthier of. I do love you. 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 Sunday Evening [November]. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Ethel has probably told you how she found us (like 
 
 's baby on the tin roof) ' ' close to nature " this 
 
 sunny morning? It is really going to be a good place 
 for me to get the air easily when not hung in serried 
 ranks with wet underclothing. There are "shy " birds 
 in the shape of sparrows, and green in the yards below 
 and a tiny glimpse of hills with the branches of Ropes's, 
 the grocer's, elm to see them through You see my 
 Cambridge visit hasn't spoilt me for lesser beauties? 
 tho' there I had four windows facing sunset and Arling- 
 ton Heights to say nothing of grass and bushes and a 
 vegetable garden which are all as new and delightful to 
 me as the sunset itself. What that visit was to me I 
 can't tell you, and it is going to be an unending source 
 of joy and refreshment to me. My prison walls have 
 had a big gap made in them, I tell Ellen, and I have 
 had a glimpse into a new world of visible beauty. The 
 pictures and the sunshine the sense of space, and above 
 all, the love and kindness. 
 
 I couldn't love Ellen better than I did, but it has 
 brought me closer to her and her past. The little sis- 
 ters and Mr. Hooper are as sweet as they can be, and 
 the whole place has an atmosphere of peace and quiet 
 that is like a backwater out of the current of a stream,
 
 172 1895 
 
 or like Dante's earthly paradise at the summit of Purga- 
 tory where he meets Beatrice in the meadow. Ellen is 
 Beatrice to me. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Paine, I did so long to have you see me 
 there, but still more I longed to see you Friday the 
 day of all days, mamma says, when she most misses 
 Mr. Brooks. 
 
 To me the great Church days are the days when he 
 seems closer to us the Mounts of Vision when above 
 and beyond the mists one can see into the Promised 
 Land. They give me strength for the long, long times 
 when it seems as if we were " steaming across the sea of 
 life by night, " or wandering in a desert like sheep with- 
 out a shepherd. The times when one feels that "the 
 strong hours conquer us" and that one is not acting 
 worthily of so sacred a grief or the great hopes before 
 us. 
 
 It is so hard to do what Maurice calls turning ' * a dead 
 anguish into a living passion." One's heart faints so 
 sometimes. The church bells on a sunny afternoon are 
 like a fresh knell. One can't realize that the world is 
 going on and he not here the arch still standing and 
 the key-stone gone. I try hard to think of that other 
 Temple. The bond that binds those who love him is 
 only stronger as the days go by, I think. It makes me 
 
 turn to you. 
 
 Always most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 27 173 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Monday, 10 A.M. 
 Dearest Twee, 
 
 You are getting near Washington by this time, while 
 I sit in the empty cage moping for my bird! I might 
 say the seed and water were untasted and the swing 
 stood idle in its stall, but it would not be true! We 
 are doing as well as can be expected. Last evening we 
 were able to say "Now she is reaching the ' Newtons,' " 
 but as I was balked as to Albany I was able to trace you 
 no further into the night. Then we played you were 
 simply "out" listening to music at the Cabot's per- 
 haps but Hamlet was to be taken in by no such pre- 
 tence. Not even a lilac rosette as a token of respect 
 to "Old Truepenny" would have cheered that gloom. 
 Sans-Gene slept on my arm, and at night "Nature," 
 as Renan would say, " mercifully chloroformed us all." 
 But she did miss you this morning, Gammardge says, and 
 after she came in here trotted back to see why Aunt 
 Tomahawk wasn't following. She has composed the 
 following ballad to be sung to the pibroch of her race 
 the song without a tune, ' * Had I but wist before I 
 hissed and known how hard Aunt T'hawk was to skin, 
 I'd have put my claws in a case of gold and pinned 
 them with a safety pin." 
 
 And news? I might tell you how the Higginsons and 
 Careys and the Conger-Eel dropped in last evening and 
 that Satty F. , Joe Smith and Dr. Bigelow are coming to 
 take second breakfast with me " dejeuner a la cuiller," 
 but I am afraid you would think it was a "statistic." 
 Perhaps you might think it another if I told you I had 
 got a letter from Bay this morning but that is a sober 
 fact. What do you think of it, as Mrs. Bell would say?
 
 174 1896 
 
 Judge sends two pecks for self and Valty, and the rest 
 
 of us send kisses. 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY. 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 "HOME HOME." 
 
 Wednesday Morn. 
 Dearest Twee, 
 
 From a correspondiacal point of view Momb is like the 
 Lubber-fiend who drinks " the cream-bowl duly set." In 
 this part of the world night is a quiet season and not 
 much happens between six, when her letter goes out, 
 and ten the next morning, when I write mine. Yes, 
 Mrs. Whitman came after she had signed and sealed 
 and delivered, and I am just forwarding you a letter 
 from her. She said your note was about the dearest 
 she had had. She said many other things of which I 
 will tell you when we meet. 
 
 Did you know we had absolutely finished Stratford 
 Canning? I told mamma I was going to put on my 
 fur mittens and turn a somersault! A duller work, but 
 then, as I told her, ' ' the longest Lane-Poole has a turn- 
 ing." 
 
 This morning your second letter arrived and the sou- 
 venir portraits. " Quelle joie pour Jacob quelle alle- 
 gresse pour Israel." Also Kebecca Allen wishes you to 
 take part in some theatricals for the G. F. S. (shade of 
 Charlotte Yonge think of that!) on the 15th which we 
 have ventured to decline for you. I wonder how much 
 of the money would have gone to the Girls' Friendly 
 and how much to your manager?
 
 Aet. 27 175 
 
 I have invented a new question I put to mamma " Why 
 do I love you? because you are Tweeby's mother." 
 
 We all send love. Sans-Gene has been climbing her 
 tree in hopes that her missing Tomahawk may be lodged 
 
 among the branches. 
 
 Your 
 
 " NANNY." 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 A Sunny Saturday. 
 Oh! my darling Twee, 
 
 Shan't I be glad to get you back all fat and rested 
 and with no fall or spring, winter or midsummer 
 nerves! Your Thursday letter has just come, and what a 
 nice time you are having but where is Slidell Rogers 
 and where is Hugo Gough? 
 
 Those Curtises have made a few score more pleasant 
 friends, including, whom do you think? The great 
 Flinders Petrie in his own diggings, where they shook 
 his dusty paw " Dodo " Benson acting Master of Cere- 
 monies. Did Mamma tell you I had a long letter from 
 them as well as from Mrs. Bell? 
 
 That cat is dearer than ever and we hope you'll think 
 we've grown. Yesterday she caught a cold and wouldn't 
 eat mamma sneered when I said her throat was sore, 
 so privately I dosed her with hot soup and brandy in a 
 spoon and it worked an instantaneous cure. She and 
 Hamlet send a simultaneous kiss! I enclose this little 
 scrap of the Symphony Concert in Cambridge Thurs- 
 day which was In Memory of Mr. Brimmer "a most 
 beautiful thought," Mrs. Whitman said, "like Henry
 
 176 1896 
 
 Higginson and him only. " He sent her a ticket and 
 they sat together. Ellen said it was most beautiful, 
 Ellen had also seen the Delacroix Pieta and thinks it 
 magnificent. Full of splendid color and feeling and 
 the figures and faces very fine a really beautiful 
 thing. I ought to make a neat finish and eat my 
 second breakfast, and Sans-Gene clamors to have her 
 
 ' ' tomatry " thrown. 
 
 Your 
 
 NAN. 
 Love always and in quantities to Mrs. Lodge. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Second Blank Thursday, 
 
 May 7th, 1896. 
 My dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 It was nice enough to get your note from New York 
 tho' it was just a leetle blue. I felt rather indigoish 
 myself last week but hope to get more stoical shortly. 
 Better I really am and yesterday bravely took three 
 steps up and feel like a chamois. The afternoon before 
 I sat up dressed for two hours and had an excellent 
 night afterwards. 
 
 While you are tossing on the deep surrounded by what 
 Mrs. Bell calls "a sort of sea-sick Eternity" we are 
 jolting along the old ruts wondering whether the last 
 new cook will stay with a, to her, incomprehensible 
 oven, and whether the parlor-maid will cease to enter a 
 
 room as Mrs. Bell says Mrs. does, "as if pursued 
 
 by blood-hounds." However, as Paulina says, we can't 
 always expect to secure the Venus of Milo even if she 
 didn't have serious disabilities as a waitress. Could
 
 Aet. 27 177 
 
 even her most ardent admirers call her neat-handed? 
 However it was Paulina herself who broke my pretty 
 Cauldon cup the one you gave me with the roses on 
 it and broke my heart with it. I had rather it had 
 been any other. So you see, now you are balked in 
 your "Gurney Family" extravagance, you can be look- 
 ing round for a tea-cup to bring home to me, won't you. 
 
 I haven't got any ' ' girl " to fill your place and we all 
 
 send heaps of love especially 
 
 Your 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, May 14. 
 My own dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Another week, and you must be landing at Genoa to- 
 morrow, after what sort of a trip, I wonder? I enclose 
 the poem which Mary Beaumont found quoted in the 
 April "Quarterly." Why did none of us think of 
 Aubrey de Vere? Not that I know his poetry, but I 
 knew what kind he wrote, having read much to him and 
 of him in Henry Taylor's life and letters. Well, you 
 see every thing comes to him who waits even friends 
 from abroad, for didn't Mrs. Whitman sail from Cher- 
 bourg last Friday, so that in a day or so we shall clasp 
 her in our arms? 
 
 Since I wrote you I have been downstairs twice to 
 lunch once Sunday, when I was driven out of my 
 room by a thermometer at 94 degrees in the shade, and 
 again Wednesday when Ellen Hooper and Helen and
 
 178 1896 
 
 Jim were here, which made it quite a festive affair. 
 Helen looked so rosy and smiling and really well. I 
 still go up my three steps a day like the ' ' chamois 
 fidele." We are changing cooks again, which is cheer- 
 ful. The last says we ought not to expect to dine late 
 with a plain cook and no kitchen maid. We got very 
 merry on the subject. A plain cook it appears must 
 go to bed with the birds perhaps her looks won't bear 
 the gas-light. Mrs. Deland's cook, who came to Boston 
 (in spectacles) to attend a course of lectures on Huxley, 
 is leaving because she says "to follow out a written 
 receipt for soup is too great an intellectual strain"! 
 
 Love from all. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 "SORROW." 
 
 Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 
 God's messenger sent down to thee ; do thou 
 With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow, 
 And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave 
 Permission first his heavenly feet to lave ; 
 Then lay before him all thou hast ; allow 
 No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow, 
 Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave 
 Of mortal tumult to obliterate 
 
 The soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be, 
 Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate ; 
 Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free, 
 Strong to consume small troubles, to commend 
 Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts 
 
 Lasting till the end. 
 
 AUBREY DE VERB.
 
 Aet. 27 179 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 "OLD HOMESTEAD" MANCHESTER, 
 Thursday, May 28th. 
 
 Well, dear Mrs. Dexter here we are! and already 
 in these two days quite settled and comfortable. Paul- 
 ina and two of the servants, Sans-Gene and one bird, 
 came down on the ten o'clock train, and by the time 
 Mamma and Uncle Melville and I and the rest of the 
 household appeared, at five, eight trunks had been 
 emptied and carried 'off and my room, at least, looked 
 as familiar and homelike as if we had slipped back into 
 last summer. I never moved so easily, taking the 
 wheeled chair to the car, where Dickson lifted me neatly 
 in. Dr. Washburn was here to greet me and found my 
 pulse strong and steady. Am I an arch-humbug or was 
 I intended for a globe-trotter? Now I am lying on my 
 little upstairs piazza with such sights and sounds about 
 me "in the wood's green heart," but alas! it is full 
 summer summer at its freshest and richest, to be 
 sure, but missing the mystery and subtle beauty of 
 Spring. We stayed too late in town. Besides, in the 
 midst of Nature we miss a little figure who used to 
 come trotting up the road with all the wealth of genius 
 along with her! I haven't heard from her since Mrs. 
 Whitman left. She then wrote that "Mrs. Whitman 
 had been rushing on the winds and she after her, tied to 
 one wing by simple twine," which sounds like her. 
 Before going to meet her she wrote me that so many 
 friends had died that she could scarcely believe she 
 "should do more than ineffectually grasp a shadowy 
 hand in the fields of asphodel, but one glance into Mrs. 
 Whitman's friendly eyes would disperse the shades."
 
 180 1896 
 
 Mrs. Higginson is our greatest comfort and as de- 
 voted as tiresome doctor's rules will permit; noon baths 
 entire rest long naps and few people. Shall you go 
 that tunnelly route from Genoa and Venice that Mark 
 Twain said was like travelling thro' a flute and blowing 
 thro' the ends? but that's a foolish question, as I re- 
 member now you go to Venice after Florence and so on. 
 Keep well and happy, too, if you can and don't forget 
 us all. Mamma sends her best love. 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Thursday, June llth. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Paulina and I were sitting out at five o'clock last 
 Thursday, on our little mound before the porch, when 
 your Florence letter was brought us with a long one 
 from Joe Smith at Parma and the mound with all its 
 rocks and pines and columbines turned to a " wishing 
 carpet " and we, too, for a few minutes were in Italy. 
 
 Whitsunday was our last Sunday in Boston, and when 
 we read the new sermon we thought that you were 
 reading it, too, and the ocean shrank or seemed to 
 shrink to a mere thread of water just a pathway to 
 bring your constant greetings. Yesterday it brought 
 those dear Benozzo Gozzoli angels with a silent message 
 of love. I am so glad the pictures are a help in the 
 midst of so much that must be sad and strange to your 
 aching heart, and I hope a great deal from the hills when 
 you are settled down quietly among them. Mrs. Whit-
 
 Aet. 27 181 
 
 man moves down tomorrow and I dread the first com- 
 ing for her or should if she wasn't so full of her own 
 work for the Memorial window and all the work she 
 does for others. Ellen Hooper and Paulina hope to 
 have her house bright with flowers for Ellen is with us 
 now, having come for what Mrs. Paine calls ' ' a visitor's 
 week," from Monday to Saturday. Up to today, which 
 is beautiful, we have had nothing but deluge, and Ellen 
 must have felt as if she were visiting the Noahs on 
 Mount Ararat, especially as they too must have lived in 
 the closest companionship with their pets. Sunday Paul- 
 ina saw Mary Beaumont and later she is to make her a 
 little visit in Newport. She hopes to get down here to 
 see me but I'm afraid she ought not. Bessie Foster gets 
 home today and I am better both in health and spirits. 
 I enclose a poem of Jack Chapman's on Mr. Brimmer 
 because it is so beautiful. 
 
 Love from all, especially from 
 
 Your 
 ALICE. 
 
 TO M. B. 
 
 The mask of life is fallen Behold the man ! 
 
 Such was he and so is. How easily 
 
 Do all the accidents of earth drop off ; 
 
 And as they fall, the Immortality 
 
 The soul departs to shines through the clay. 
 
 Severe, calm, dominant ; a general 
 
 Frail, yet the very manifest of Power. 
 
 A look of life-long conquest in his brow, 
 
 Christ militant ! Thy soldier ; as he lies, 
 
 Not for our eyes this bearing, but for Thine.
 
 182 1896 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Monday, 15th Pluviose. 
 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Paulina was just on the point of writing Ethel when 
 I seized the pen from her hand not thinking that 
 Walthara could bear two letters from so newsless a 
 spot. Did you ever see such depressing weather? We 
 told Ellen, who left us Saturday, that she must have 
 felt as if she had been passing "a visitor's week" with 
 the Noahs a happy mixture of deluge and pets. 
 
 We hope she got rested amused she can't have 
 been, for Mrs. Higginson had chosen that inopportune 
 moment to go off to the Lake for ten days and Mrs. 
 Whitman didn't move down till Friday, just in time to 
 make us one call and to have her house trimmed up 
 with irises and buttercups and a Hooper-y bay wreath 
 as welcome. Oh, yes, one night Mr. Higginson came 
 to supper, but for the rest there was " no band of music 
 nossing." 
 
 Mrs. Bell says ' ' in the country one is given a piece of 
 string and told to make one's pleasures," and our pleas- 
 ures and strings, as we warned Ellen, are apt to take 
 the form of cats' cradles. Indeed we dwelt so much 
 on the dullness of her visit beforehand that our proffered 
 hospitality was rather after the manner of the Todgers' 
 boy, "There's going to be a fish for dinner Don't 
 touch none of him." 
 
 Sunday or rather a week ago yesterday Paulina 
 went to town, lunched with Mrs. Whitman and saw 
 Mary Beaumont, who had just landed. She looked 
 handsomer and more blooming than ever but is poorly.
 
 Aet. 27 183 
 
 Whether she will be able to get down here to see me is 
 rather doubtful, but Paulina is to go to her in Newport 
 for a couple of nights. Tell Ethel that ' ' the old ship 
 Constitution, " as Paulina calls herself, is going to Class- 
 Day after all in a new coat of paint. 
 
 Ellen says she is to go with her in the character of 
 Kip Van Winkle's dog and they find they are both to 
 be in the Class Colors as if they were seventeen instead 
 of ninety. Now she Paulina, I mean has just put 
 a golosh, like Achilles, upon her vulnerable heel and 
 sallied forth to see the Hamlens or she would send her 
 love. I have been ill this last day or two but am mend- 
 ing and my mind is much relieved at having got Bessie 
 Foster safely home at last. I don't know whether you 
 heard how very sick she had been in New York? With 
 best love to you all I am always 
 
 Most affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MBS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Wednesday, June 17. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I am going to write you now because tomorrow morn- 
 ing is given over to the sacred rites of hair-washing, and 
 my letter mustn't miss sailing on the Saturday boat. 
 My last was no sooner signed, sealed and delivered than 
 your first letter from Venice arrived and with it a more 
 cheerful atmosphere. It sounded rested, happier, alto- 
 gether comforting to us and Mrs. Dalton came in to 
 share the good news. She is as dear and devoted as 
 she can be and I like her better every time I see her.
 
 184 1896 
 
 I only wish her head wasn't so troublesome, but it is a 
 pleasure to think of her having Mrs. Morison and those 
 nice children so near. Speaking of nice children, Dick- 
 son has just moved his little brood up to the Pittsfield 
 cottage and has now come to pass his summer with 
 us and it is the greatest addition to this quiet ' ' back- 
 water " of a household, for he is a most sunshiny person, 
 ready to play at anything with anybody and content 
 with small pleasures. He drives with Uncle Melly and 
 reads to mamma of an evening and tends Sans-Gene 
 with Paulina. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman we got back to us Friday and she 
 came up at once and again Monday and then this morn- 
 ing for a whole hour while Paulina was careering thro' 
 Magnolia woods with the two men and a most ecstatic 
 Hamlet. She was at her dearest and brought me up 
 the bit of glass she had made for Fanny Curtis's wed- 
 ding present (three bright pink wild roses) and read me 
 bits of your favorite Walt Whitman. Lovely bits too. 
 Don't be afraid! I'm not going over to his philosophy, 
 but the little she did read was like having a window 
 (roughly) thrown open to a wide view over rolling 
 prairies with a fresh wind blowing. 
 
 We miss our dear Ellen. I celebrated her departure 
 by an ill-turn which has kept me pretty quiet ever 
 since. I am better today, but how can I expect to feel 
 very sprightly with my heart torn into bits and sown 
 broad-cast over Europe? There's a big bit with you in 
 Venice, so take good care of it and keep it cheerful and 
 well. The metaphor is mixed but my affection isn't, 
 
 and so good-night. 
 
 From your 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 27 185 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 . Thursday, June 25. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Your last letter might have been signed by Florence 
 Nightingale if Florence Nightingale was ever tired by a 
 sleepless night and depressed by her invalids! I hope 
 by this time things are looking up with you and home 
 letters acting with more thoughtfulness. I write quite 
 reg'lar and mean to, so if you don't get news weekly 
 from this quiet spot lay the blame on wind and tide. 
 
 The weather has been hot but beautiful, so that Class- 
 Day and Commencement both at Radcliffe and Har- 
 vard have had their appropriate setting, and now here 
 is another cloudless day for Fanny Curtis's wedding. 
 
 I had a delightful Class- Day, too, with Mrs. Whitman 
 a long hour in the morning and again in the afternoon 
 pastels in hand. Saturday and Sunday mornings 
 she came again and it isn't finished yet. I tell her I 
 hope it will go on leaving off at exciting places like the 
 Arabian Princess's tales and keep her with us a thou- 
 sand-and-one nights. Anything sweeter than she is un- 
 der a constant fire of adverse criticism I never saw 
 and contradictory criticism. The trouble is she was so 
 anxious to paint me in the familiar attitude, against the 
 light, that she has undertaken that difficult task, a face 
 without lights or shadows. It is growing like me now 
 but at first it looked like a very youthful beef -eater in- 
 stead of that pale emaciated young sufferer I had fan- 
 cied myself. I have decided that I am worse than a 
 humbug a "pillow-sham." Don't you think that an
 
 186 1896 
 
 appropriate name for me? And please don't go and 
 fancy me ill, when I get down every evening now and 
 sit up to supper first seeing my friends on the mound. 
 Mrs. Higginson and Mrs. Dalton were here last night 
 and then Paulina met Mrs. Dalton again at dinner at 
 Mrs. Whitman's for Mr. and Mrs. Merriman always 
 myths to me. It seems to have been a delightful occa- 
 sion. Besides a few little things like that or rather 
 beside that itself a dullness has descended upon this 
 summer a dullness that might be felt. Some one, 
 however, has obligingly taken the Pratt house for two 
 months, which I hope means that we shall get those 
 dear people back in September. I have a pen here 
 which interferes with the flow of my ideas and spoils 
 a naturally sweet temper, but I love you in spite of 
 
 all. 
 
 Your 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday, July 2. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 By the way, Mrs. Whitman came yesterday and fin- 
 ished my picture, which Mamma likes very much, and 
 that is the main thing. I like it less, tho' the coloring 
 and many things are excellent. In the afternoon Mr. 
 and Mrs. Higginson came up and joined us on the mound 
 so we felt we had shown of our best to Ethel Paine who 
 is spending two days with us. Then last evening the 
 two girls walked over to welcome the Hoopers to these 
 parts Hamlet guiding them thro' the short-cuts which
 
 Aet. 27 187 
 
 are complicated at best but in the dark quite impossible. 
 Wasn't that dear of him and he's not "been Hoopers," 
 as he calls it, these eight months. That reminds me that 
 you will be glad to hear that Sans-Gene roams out of 
 doors three hours of every day and is as good as gold, 
 playing within call and almost always within sight of 
 her aunts as they sit upon the mound. I continue to 
 get down every afternoon, and Monday spent an hour 
 on West Beach such a day! I thought of you there. 
 Soon I am planning to make Mrs. Whitman a little call. 
 She has been entertaining a good deal of late. Paulina 
 went to one tea and two dinners there within a week 
 and fell a victim to Mr. Pumpelly's charms, and today 
 the Chapmans (with Victor, alas!) and the William 
 Jameses arrive to pass "the Fourth" that great 
 national hullabaloo which you will escape. 
 
 Speaking of patriotism generally, Paulina and I have 
 been reading the "Sherman Letters " and John Ropes's 
 "History of the Civil War," and have had to make up 
 foolish riddles to keep our spirits up. Here is one of 
 them: " Who ought to have commanded at the Battle 
 of Five Forks? " " General Butler It was originally 
 half a dozen." Mr. Bartlett was the only person who 
 came near to guessing it. He made us a very sprightly 
 call the other day and told us a number of funny stories. 
 Apropos of my assuming my throne at five o'clock he 
 told us of the inventive Yankee who called at Bucking- 
 ham Palace and demanded to see the Queen he must 
 see her as she needed something he alone could supply. 
 It turned out that it was the " combination throne-bed " 
 a bed by night throne by day. I think of investing! 
 He also told of the man who was trying to convert a 
 friend to Wagner's music and added, "It's not half so
 
 188 1896 
 
 bad as it sounds," but it was Mr. Hooper who repeated 
 Lewis Cabot's remark that "when you saw any one 
 blowing his, or her, nose from a high moral sense of 
 duty you might know it was a Jackson! " 
 
 You mustn't think I'm blue its just the tint of the 
 paper. At any rate it brings you what Mrs. Fields 
 would call a blue-gray kiss. Mamma's love goes with 
 
 it. 
 
 Your fond 
 
 ALICIA. 
 
 To MBS. E. P. SAMPSON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 8th. 
 Dearest Aunt Florence, 
 
 I can't let today pass without writing to tell you how 
 much my thoughts are with you. 
 
 When the anniversaries come round they bring such 
 fresh memories with them that the years seem to fade 
 away as one fancies mere Time will in the other world 
 and leave only the real things behind it the love and 
 the admiration and the tenderness that give life its 
 glow and its meaning. 
 
 I know how hard and lonely your life is with a hard- 
 ness and loneliness greater than grief itself, but I know 
 that beyond the mists of the present the memory of 
 Robert and your little Sally must shine like a bright 
 horizon line which no accident can mar nor Time alter. 
 " Safe in thy immortality." 
 
 I so often think of dear Robert and his beautiful 
 patience and sweetness. Death seems to me the easi- 
 est of all the problems and the least sad. 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 2Y 189 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 30. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Here is Hamlet, "the Heavy Father," as Paulina 
 calls him since six little sons of his were born last 
 week. Fancy how cunning! and their mother, Mr. 
 Merwin, who owns her, writes, is busy carrying them 
 about from one nest in the straw to another. Dickson 
 is to have one and you can imagine how jealous I am 
 at the thought of anything so fat and black-satiny and 
 purple-eyed going into any one's arms but mine. How- 
 ever mamma seems to think we have pets enough at 
 all events till we get that tiger for the spare-room. I 
 wish you were at home to have one! I approve of a 
 loving pup for you more even than half a dozen adopted 
 children. 
 
 Your last letter from Cortina sounded just a little bit 
 dreary, or was that my prophetic soul? I am very glad 
 you are away this summer and not here to distress your- 
 self about the bad times, which at the moment are equal 
 to '93; only at the moment, I trust. 
 
 Mr. Higginson came and sat upon the mound last 
 night and we thought him a little cheered. It wasn't 
 as it has been with him these last weeks a blue- 
 ness that could be felt. All the same I think the Dol- 
 omites a better prospect for you than lists of falling 
 stocks, closing mills and money panics. The strong 
 feeling for silver, combined with a dislike for law and 
 order, at the West which the Democratic platform has 
 disclosed has alarmed a great many, and the West is 
 always an unknown quantity. Joe Lee thinks their 
 party the honester of the two, and tho' he votes for
 
 190 1896 
 
 McKinley his sympathies are with the poor mistaken 
 Westerners who think they are leading a people's cru- 
 sade. I think of writing "A Stocking-Foot Note to 
 History" on the subject of the Populist Convention, 
 which kicks off its boots at all available moments. 
 Joe Lee was most interesting that same hot Sunday 
 on politico-ethics, but I said to Bessie " Fancy talking 
 on the Eternal Verities in such weather." "The very 
 time," she answered, "to discuss the Naked Truth." 
 
 Weather reminds me that Tuesday night we sat out 
 in the entry for an hour or more and heard the thunder 
 crash about us as I never heard it before. Mr. Higgin- 
 son said he mentally buried this entire household and 
 half of bis own. It did strike all about us including 
 Mrs. Dalton's stable. I felt rather wilted yesterday in 
 consequence but got down on to the mound, where Mrs. 
 John Morse found us looking dissipated with our empty 
 glasses and sarsaparilla bottles about us. By the way, 
 did I tell you of the stuttering man who was arrested 
 in New York and carried before the Police Court? 
 When asked his name he could only hiss out "S s s" 
 and the Judge impatiently turned to the policeman and 
 said, "What's he charged with?" "Soda water, I 
 should think," was the reply. We laugh over him at 
 short intervals. 
 
 Paulina has dined twice with Mrs. Whitman in the last 
 week once suddenly at the Club because Mrs. Whit- 
 man's cook is, as she said, "More static than dynamic" 
 I tell Mamma the English of this is that her cook is 
 a slow-poker and can't be taken by surprise. She has 
 just given me a dear little calf-skin rug (a perfect 
 beauty) and is changing my sapphire bracelet into a 
 ring. Isn't she a perfect Fairy-Godmother ? The weeks
 
 Aet. 27 191 
 
 pass quickly but one's love doesn't pass away. "And 
 Time, which none can bind, tho' flowing fast away leaves 
 
 love behind." 
 
 Your 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Friday, August 28. 
 Dearest Mrs. Paine, 
 
 Paulina has so carefully skimmed the cream of our 
 news-bowl once a week for Ethel that I have not thought 
 it worth while to send you a small quantity of light-blue 
 fluid afterwards. Now that Ethel is gone to Naushon, 
 however, I can send you our weekly budget with a light 
 heart. 
 
 To begin with our best bit of news, Mrs. Bell and Mrs. 
 Pratt are absolutely on the ocean! 
 
 We wrote Mrs. Bell if our heart-strings were only 
 fastened to their vessel they would make the shortest 
 passage on record. 
 
 Paulina wrote how our Curtis doves had returned to 
 the ark, bearing their olive branches with them? and 
 Monday morning I drove over and saw them and all 
 their purchases and the house, which I hadn't seen for 
 years. In all their sight-seeing they couldn't have seen 
 a lovelier place than it looked that day. I prophesied 
 to Elinor that they would just drive up, take a bird's- 
 eye view from the terrace, ask for a few dates, rush 
 thro' the state apartments and tip her before leaving,
 
 192 1896 
 
 under the impression that she was the housekeeper in 
 charge, but I did them wrong, for they are settling down 
 in the family nest as contentedly as if they had never 
 flown to the Houses of Parliament nor perched in 
 Givon's Grove. 
 
 Of course I was a good deal used up by my trip, but 
 if I hadn't been I should have felt like the Lennox 
 Stable boy, as if I were " delirious or bleeding inter- 
 nally." I was not too sick to come down Tuesday 
 evening, when we had Bella and Elinor over to pass the 
 night and Joe Lee to supper with them and Joe at his 
 liveliest. He and Elinor got acting and telling stories 
 and we laughed till the tears ran down our cheeks and 
 we felt as if we were having mumps in our ribs. You 
 remember the Frenchman who said "it was easy enough 
 to be a genius at twenty-five the difficulty was to be 
 one at fifty," but Joe has carried it into the thirties. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 Thursday, Sept. 10. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Who should appear here yesterday but Joe Smith 
 (looking so brown and well) and bringing with him 
 that dear little thing for holy water. It will make my 
 room really look like St. Ursula's. Before the resem- 
 blance lay chiefly in the prominence of the bed and the 
 slippers and the little dog. I was glad to see a bit of 
 your handwriting too, for I haven't heard from you for
 
 Aet. 27 193 
 
 ages to be quite literal, not since the letter you wrote 
 from Adelboden the 18th of August. Perhaps you have 
 climbed up into the region of perpetual snow and non- 
 existent post bags? I hope to hear today Joe Smith's 
 Philadelphia people have scented his return and sum- 
 moned him to his neglected work, but before leaving 
 Dublin he started a sylvan theatre on their place such 
 as he saw in Genoa somewhere. Any one who helps in 
 the making of it is to have a box, and all Dublin, he 
 says, is in the trenches, Mr. Pumpelly digging up his 
 long beard at every other shovel-full. 
 
 By the way, I have never been so bothered with pens 
 as I have this summer! Drat them. I now know the 
 meaning of a real penance but I'm not going to give in 
 to it this morning but shall wend my scrawling way on 
 to a half page. More particularly as I have some scraps 
 I want to send you which will need my two stamps. 
 Do you always feel as if that were criminally extrava- 
 gant? I do. One is my first letter from Mrs. Bell 
 since she reached this side, which perhaps you will send 
 me back when you write next? and the other you can 
 tear up. It is a poem Joe Lee wrote the other day as a 
 Campaign document and brought us up. You know he 
 is what Paulina calls * ' the last beaux of summer " and 
 we have seen a lot of him, or did while he was here. 
 He has now taken himself off to a Trade School discus- 
 sion of some sort at Saratoga and comes back no more. 
 He is going to write another poem with the refrain of 
 "Let's call the Baby Twins mother," on the dollar of 
 fifty-three cents, which is distinctly taking, I think. 
 
 Our mother is at Oak-Hill with Helen and very 
 queer and unhomelike it seems without her. Like the
 
 194: 1896 
 
 whistling oyster, we try to keep our spirits up. Tonight 
 Mr. Hooper and Ellen came to supper and last night we 
 had the three Curtises and Mrs. Whitman at five and all 
 sat round a great fire and drank tea and played it was 
 Boston. I wish you could have been here too, dear 
 thing, but we keep your place waiting for you. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Tuesday, Sept. 15. 
 Dear Ethel, 
 
 Paulina wants me to tell you that we count on your 
 coming to us Monday morning and passing two nights 
 
 so don't you fail. She, poor dear, is in bed with her 
 arm in a sling, while Uncle Melly, swathed in disinfec- 
 tants (what I call the odour of medical sanctity) has 
 limped out on to my little piazza while his room is being 
 done. They are no more than bruised after the most 
 marvellous and merciful escape from a fearful accident, 
 
 the worst the Higginson's coachman said he had ever 
 seen, and he has spent his life in carriage accidents. 
 Uncle Melly was driving Paulina over to the Curtis's 
 Saturday noon with his new span, and they had just got 
 as far as where the Winthrop Avenue joins ours when 
 one of the horses started a little broke the pole-straps 
 
 and then the horses started on the dead race down 
 Jersey Lane. You know the ups and downs and curves 
 of it! When they came up on to the main road Uncle 
 Melly tried to head the horses for Joe Clark's stone wall 
 and was dragged out completely over the dasher and on 
 to the pole, where he lay amidst a whirl of hoofs till be-
 
 Aet. 27 195 
 
 yond the flag-staff, where the horses swerved and fell. 
 Paulina said she never expected to see him alive again. 
 When the carriage stopped she jumped out, landing on 
 her arm, and ran to him to find him coming to her. 
 He had screwed himself down sideways and come out 
 behind the carriage. He said when he realized that he 
 was not going to be killed, but was going to leave Paul- 
 ina alone behind the still-racing horses, no words could 
 describe his state of mind. The spectators, most of 
 them, dared not look to see what had happened. Was 
 it not the most miraculous thing you ever heard of? 
 We dare not think what it might have been. 
 
 Most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 THE OLD HOMESTEAD MANCHESTER, 
 
 Oct. 20th, 21st, and 22nd. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 What will you think when I tell you that I am go- 
 ing to buy this place and become an Irish landlord? 
 that is, if Bryan is not elected and the title is clear and 
 a few other little final "ifs." Then mamma will pay 
 her rent to me and I shall feel very important and be 
 very poor, and tho' you are a householder I want you 
 to congratulate me. My yearly pin-money will proba- 
 bly dwindle from five hundred to two, but I never 
 needed many clothes and I mean to keep well so as to 
 save doctor's bills. 
 
 With debts galore, 
 
 But fun much more, 
 
 Oh, that's the man from Galway.
 
 196 1896 
 
 I'm going to call it " Castle Rackrent," and when you 
 drive by next summer and see the paint peeling off and 
 the broken windows stuffed with petticoats you will 
 understand how appropriate it is. Mrs. Whitman says 
 she is going to re-cover the parlor-sofa and Bella engages 
 to have our paper marked and Elinor wants to plant us 
 a tiny garden. As for Mr. Dalton, he has been kindness 
 itself taking ever so much trouble to give us sound 
 advice, and Mr. Higginson but it is needless to en- 
 large on the dearness of the Higginsons at this late 
 date. You see we are prematurely puffed up by the 
 pride of possession. Not "three acres and a cow "is 
 our motto, but "five acres and a cat." Five acres, did 
 I say? Nay, five and three quarters acres and 19 Rods!! 
 (Don't you think they might have thrown in a Perch 
 or two for the birds?) 
 
 Seriously, it is a foolish business getting one's roots 
 down so deep into another person's flower-pot, and we 
 had grown so fond of the little house these seven years 
 and my heart-strings have grown so round every tree 
 on the place that it would have been a real wrench to 
 leave it if Mr. Higginson had sold it to some stranger, 
 as he might well have been forced to do in these hard 
 times. But things will be better after " the Fourth." 
 
 Mrs. Whitman quoted that remark of Howells', that 
 ' ' our weakness as a people was sunk in our greatness 
 as a nation," and I don't believe that when it comes to 
 the point even the poor Western farmers will vote for 
 what even an old silver man like my Uncle says is vir- 
 tual repudiation and against law and order. 
 
 You speak of our American sunshine! We had thir- 
 teen (!) hours of it in twenty days, and since the 15th of 
 May we have had only two pleasant Sundays.
 
 Aet. 27 197 
 
 The weather is like the Ex-Empress Frederic, of whom 
 Mr. Dan Curtis said, "She used to reign, now she pours,'* 
 
 when she invited herself to tea at his palazzo. 
 
 Do you see how good I was to write this letter in 
 three relays of a day each ? But I'm still in my bed, 
 with callers at ten minutes a call, and the doctor says 
 it's only by being very good that I shall be able to move 
 tomorrow. But I am better and shall move with joy. 
 
 An Irish landlord wouldn't be one if he wasn't an 
 absentee, and I am eager to get into the old nest. The 
 next letter will be from there. But Boston won't seem 
 quite like Boston without you and our Thursdays. 
 
 Always lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 HOME October 28th, '96. 
 
 There, dearest Mrs. Dexter, if you were only sitting 
 there in your own corner by the fire (you can just see 
 the top of your chair above the bed) with Sans-Gene 
 climbing up your veil, what a nice talk we could have. 
 
 The old room looks just the same except that we have 
 a neat green carpet under the rug, and the hideous old 
 coal-box has been moved away to make room for a brass 
 hod to match your tongs. Oh, yes, and the little silver 
 holy water thing hangs on the wall near Mr. Brooks's 
 picture. I sometimes feel as if this room were the 
 only oasis of permanence in a desert of hurry and 
 change. The same quiet routine goes on here the 
 same faces the same hearts, which still keep a little 
 corner for a certain too sympathetic confidante of other 
 people's woes and worries.
 
 198 1896 
 
 Mamma is reading Mrs. Bishop's life of Mrs. Augus- 
 tus Craven aloud to me, and I long to mark little pass- 
 ages in the journal and letters for you. Have you read 
 it? Mrs. Bishop is a confused old lady, but Pauline 
 de la Ferronnaye is always interesting. She is so full 
 of human failures and struggles and discouragements 
 in the midst of her certain faith. I suppose you are 
 mistaken enough to want a bulletin of my health? For 
 the first three days after the move I was seriously ill, 
 but yesterday I began to mend and Dr. Mason says a 
 long rest will set me to rights. He thinks I had a very 
 good summer on the whole which is perfectly true. 
 This morning I am going to have a little call from Mrs. 
 Coolidge. 
 
 The Bells and Pratts, after many changes of plan, have 
 taken a house in Milton not far from Mrs. Fiske and 
 about half a mile from the railway station. We wrote 
 that we were quite " Penseroso " at the thought of our 
 "Paradise Lost," etc., in the Miltonic vein but she 
 (Mrs. Bell, I mean) sends word that an hour will bring 
 her to our door and she means to lunch here constantly. 
 I am getting up my strength for a long hug. 
 
 The Czar's entrance into Paris will be nothing to hers 
 into Boston if only her admirers took to the sidewalks, 
 and we'll hang the Mt. Vernon St. elms with little pink 
 paper roses on wires such as my enthusiastic old French 
 teacher, Mme. Couder, sent me the other day. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 28 199 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, Nov. 12th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Since I wrote the political battle has been fought and 
 won, hasn't it? and I hope all these panics in the money 
 market are over now along with the uncertainty as to 
 whether wampum might not be legal tender the next 
 day. 
 
 Every one (except myself) had begun to feel a little 
 shaky, for, after all, the chief plank in Bryan's platform, 
 "If wishes were horses then beggars might ride," ap. 
 pealed to a large number. 
 
 Eighteen nice people have called on me these last four 
 days, of whom I have seen a selected few, and among 
 them that dear Mrs. Lodge. I haven't seen Mrs. Bell 
 yet! Nobody has and as far as Boston is concerned 
 she might just as well be in Amboise. It makes one 
 think of her father's old remark, "and gentlemen, where 
 was the plaintiff? He was in that bourne from which 
 no traveller returns West Roxbury." 
 
 However, I have a note from her this morning describ- 
 ing the horrors of a country life and telling how the rain 
 kept her from me yesterday and so I shall expect her 
 here today. In their Milton house there is a secret 
 door into the library, reached by pushing back a bit of 
 the book-case, but Mrs. Bell says she can't come in that 
 way she should feel as if she were "coming thro' the 
 stomach of Tennyson." And when they thought of tak- 
 ing the Scudder house and were told that two electric 
 cars reached it, she cried, " Oh, I should feel as if one 
 leg would get there before the other," so you see we
 
 200 1896 
 
 can believe, without sight, that she hasn't changed her 
 spots. Tell Elise that last winter we gave Dr. Bigelow 
 a fine little male kitten and have just received a note 
 with "The Chat of Purrsia's compliments, and he has 
 the honor to inform us that he has just become the 
 mother of five little chats, all of whom are doing well." 
 We sent them the congratulations of their uncle, Ma- 
 dame Sans-Gene!! 
 
 Mrs. Whitman is more dear and devoted than ever, 
 and is taking courage. Beginnings are so hard and 
 the fresh winter upset even her serenity. 
 
 Tuesday I am twenty-eight and feel a little "everlast- 
 ing hill-ish " but it is comforting to think that one car- 
 ries the old friendships into the New Years. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Friday, Nov. 27. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Your last Paris letter has just come and been warmly 
 welcomed and also the little photograph. Did you get 
 a foreign one I sent you yesterday? Paulina took them 
 one sunny morning before we left Manchester, and I 
 hope the absurd little things will look pleasant to your 
 eyes in a strange land. 
 
 Yes, I really am better have got triumphantly thro' 
 with my dentistry have sat up dressed one morning 
 and hope to get down to tea tomorrow. "Quong 
 pongs?" as Mme. Sans-Gene would say in her purest 
 Anglo-Saxon French. And now I must tell you what 
 a pleasant Thanksgiving Day we had beginning with
 
 Aet. 28 201 
 
 a peaceful morning when Paulina went off to church 
 and Mamma read one of Mr. Brooks's Thanksgiving 
 sermons aloud to me and then Elinor and Bella Curtis 
 dropped in and Mrs. Dalton and after that Dickson 
 appeared with his three really dear little boys to eat 
 their turkey and ice-cream with their " Gammardge," 
 who wore a paper cap for the rest of the day and really 
 enjoyed their good time almost as much as they did. 
 Even I, lying upstairs with my cat and dog, felt as if 
 we had got something young back in the house and a 
 bit of the old Thanksgiving days as I heard the shrieks 
 and little feet and an old jig Mamma always plays for 
 "Going to Jerusalem" on such occasions. Here's a 
 picture of my little god-son at two and a half, just to 
 show you how big he must be now at nearly three. 
 Burn it, for it doesn't do him justice. And after the 
 house was quiet again, and the children gone, Mrs. 
 Whitman came in, hatless and very merry, and laden 
 with uncut jewels. 
 
 . For my grandmother Weston left us each a hundred 
 dollars to buy some little memorial of her, and Paulina 
 is going to have a pendant designed by Mrs. Whitman. 
 
 You know how she throws all her heart and spirit 
 into such things into anything that concerns her 
 friends. Why, the other day Paulina casually asked 
 what color she had better have with a black velvet din- 
 ner dress she talked of having made, and the next day 
 two samples of rose pink satin came up from Hovey's 
 with a written message from Mrs. Whitman. 
 
 I have lots to tell you, but neither space nor time to 
 tell it, so will end with 
 
 (Continued in our next).
 
 202 1896 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, December 3rd. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 The best laid schemes of mice and men and after 
 all my boastings I didn't get down last Saturday. I 
 dressed to sit upstairs as a kind of trial trip, but lost my 
 breath for such a long time, and had such a bad turn 
 afterwards, and altogether made such a mess of it that 
 I had to begin over again. But I am better and hope 
 to accomplish it before very long. 
 
 Yesterday who should turn up but Mrs. Bell dearer 
 than ever and just from Mrs. Whitman's studio. She 
 hadn't been to town for a fortnight as Mr. Pratt has been 
 having a tooth-achey throat (or rather a throat ache 
 brought on by a tooth) and Mrs. Pratt has stayed at 
 home to keep his spirits up and Mrs. Bell to hold her 
 hand. However, she made us a long call and stayed to 
 lunch, keeping our two men and Charley Walcott in 
 gales of laughter. I wish you could have heard her 
 
 description of the dressing at the wedding where 
 
 old Mrs. wore a white straw bonnet trimmed, Mrs. 
 
 Bell thought, with a little damp seaweed or her de- 
 light at the vulgar noise and bustle of a railway station 
 when you were in time. But you know how she lights 
 up every tiniest subject she touches with the fire of her 
 genius. She says she and Mrs. Pratt don't read the 
 Bible now, but the almanac, and pray for the longer 
 days. She isn't afraid of being insulted when out in the 
 dark that would make her feel quite young but only 
 of breaking her old bones. Later Mrs. Whitman came 
 in, and the day before Mr. Hooper, and Sunday Joe 
 Smith come up to breathe after his work in Philadel-
 
 Aet. 28 203 
 
 phia. Mrs. Coolidge tells me my St. Ursula is a dear, 
 but I am not to have her till Christmas. Within a day 
 or two now I am to sign my deeds? and how do you 
 think I figure in them? as "Alice Weston Smith, 
 single woman." ''The aforesaid single woman," Paul- 
 ina calls me, which, as Mrs. Whitman remarked, is the 
 antipodes of " Milly Christine." But possibly you don't 
 feel as well acquainted as the rest of Boston with that 
 two-headed nightingale. 
 
 Who do you think has taken a fat mortgage for me 
 but Mr. William Dexter? so you see I feel backed up 
 by Prudence itself. 
 
 Your loving old single woman, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, Dec. 10th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 We are all rejoicing in this sunny morning for Mrs. 
 Whitman's fair. Mamma has been knitting a blanket 
 and Paulina making worsted balls in such haste that if 
 Hood had still been alive he would have written a com- 
 panion piece to his "Tale of the Shirt." Susan Cool- 
 idge that delightful "cross between a butterfly and 
 an elephant " is at Mrs. Whitman's, where Paulina 
 dined last night, and she always cheers Mrs. Whitman, 
 who has needed cheering this week. We sometimes 
 forget that, I think, and throw too many new cares 
 upon her. I always think of her when I read that bit 
 out of Matthew Arnold's tribute to his splendid father: 
 
 If, in the paths of the world, 
 Stones might have wounded thy feet,
 
 204: 1896 
 
 Toil or dejection have tried 
 Thy spirit, of that we saw 
 Nothing ! To us thou wert still 
 Cheerful and helpful and firm. 
 
 But there! if two such old lovers of Mrs. Whitman 
 once begin on that subject we shall never end. Monday 
 the family drank my health as a landed proprietor and 
 at tea-time yesterday that dear Mr. Higginson came and 
 made us a long call and the old landlord and the new 
 exchanged a kiss over their completed bargain. I wrote 
 Mrs. Higginson who has been shut off from us all 
 with her eczema this last month that the place which 
 gave us two such friends couldn't fail to bring a bless- 
 ing with it. Do you think it can? Then please drink 
 metaphorically good luck to " Castle Rackrent." 
 
 I am sending you a little book of extracts from 
 Maurice which I hope will reach you sometime near 
 Christmas. I read them in a copy Ethel gave Paulina 
 and enjoyed them so much that I thought you might 
 too. I've marked passages here and there that I marked 
 for myself thinking that the nearest approach to read- 
 ing you things I liked, as I used to do. 
 
 You know, without my telling you, how much you 
 will be in our home hearts at Christmas time. Wher- 
 ever you go one of my stoutest heart-strings is tied 
 tight round you, so don't jump about too vigorously, 
 will you? and always remember your friends at "48 " 
 
 and particularly 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 28 205 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Sunday Morning. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I hope you got home safely Friday without being 
 tired or chilled by the bleak darkness of that late after- 
 noon? 
 
 It made my heart ache to see you looking so white 
 and to hear how poorly you were, both in health and 
 spirits. But when your nerves have recovered from 
 the long wear and tear of last summer the glow will 
 come back into everything, and in the meanwhile you 
 mustn't let yourself lose heart, will you? 
 
 There are days when we all must learn the meaning 
 of that beautiful expression of St. Paul's, " the patience 
 of hope," that we may taste more fully of its joy and 
 however dark things look you have the bright stars in 
 your sky. 
 
 I wish I could get to see you and your mother some- 
 times, but my thoughts are not bedridden and often 
 come running up your long steps. 
 
 Thursday will be a very sacred day for you all, I 
 know, and bright with memories. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 I have copied you a little poem of Christina Kossetti's 
 that I am very fond of: 
 
 When I am sick and tired it is God's will ; 
 Also alone God's will is sure and best ; 
 So in my weariness I find my rest, 
 And so in poverty I take my fill ; 
 Therefore I see my good in midst of ill ;
 
 206 1896 
 
 Therefore in loneliness I build my nest ; 
 And through hot noon pant toward the shady nest, 
 And hope in sickening disappointment still. 
 So, when the times of restitution come, 
 The sweet times of refreshing come at last, 
 My God shall fill my longings to the brim ; 
 Therefore I wait and look and long for Him ; 
 Not wearied, though the work is wearisome, 
 Nor fainting, though the time be almost past. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 Friday, Dec. 18th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 It was nice to get your more cheery letter from Men- 
 tone and to think of you drinking in all that beauty 
 but I am just narrow-minded enough to be unwilling to 
 change our first real snowfall with the bright blue sky 
 about it (or the familiar roofs) even for heliotropes and 
 palms in a strange land. 
 
 Our dear little dressmaking widow, Mrs. Coyle, had 
 the girl baby she had longed for on Friday, but only 
 kept her four days. It seems like losing her last earthly 
 hope and comfort. "Blessed are they that mourn." 
 The riddle of this world is so deep and mysterious that 
 it must have a great and beautiful answer. There is a 
 new volume of Mr. Brooks's sermons just out, and I 
 wish I had known in time, but perhaps some one else 
 will send it to you. Do let me know. Since I wrote I 
 have been downstairs twice to dinner and tho' I didn't 
 make a brilliant success of it I hope to before long. 
 And do tell me just how you are and have been, and
 
 Aet. 28 207 
 
 whether your headaches have been troublesome of late? 
 How I wish you were safe at home so that I could put 
 my arms round you. 
 
 May God bless this New Year to you and give you 
 
 peace. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, Dec. 24. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 And after all the measles has broken out among 
 Dickson's little flock, so that we shall have a dull, grown- 
 up Christmas, with no tree, no Santa Glaus, * ' no band 
 of music nossing! " We pretended it was a day of 
 self-sacrifice for us and now are half-ready to cry on 
 our own account at the thought of our lost candy-horns 
 or rather our postponed ones, for the festivities are to 
 come off as soon as quarantine is over. In the mean- 
 while the tree stands in my room for Sans-Gene to scale. 
 I haven't mentioned her for a long time, but she is dearer 
 than ever and her cheeks are swollen to such unfemi- 
 nine fatness that we have decided she has the "fur 
 mumps." That reminds me that I have just invented 
 a text to put on those all-too-quickly-disappearing chests 
 of kitchen tea, " Oolong, oh Lord, oolong? " Don't you 
 think it " quite dear and blasphemious, " as Mrs. Whit- 
 man does? She, alack, has gone off to Philadelphia for 
 a week. 
 
 Did I tell you that Mrs. Bell had been tied to Milton 
 with a sprained ankle what the rest of us, Mrs. Whit- 
 man says, would not think of calling so dignified a name. 
 "It looked at first like Turner's slave-ship, but now,"
 
 208 1896 
 
 she writes, " it is beginning to fade into the light of com- 
 mon day." 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Sunday after Christmas. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 Some fairy must have told you how fond I was of 
 orris root and that most of my scent-bags had begun to 
 lose their savour. I have proudly put your beauty in 
 among my best coats, where it will remind me of you 
 for a long time to come. After that it sounds as if I 
 were going to forget you, which wasn't what I meant. 
 I wish you could have seen my room Christmas, but 
 now some of the flowers are faded and the china and 
 plants have had to be moved away on Sans-Gene's 
 account. We had a dull, grown-up Christmas, for 
 measles is in Dickson's flock, but we tried to make the 
 best of it and pretend that Mamma and Paulina felt 
 quite well, tho' one was housed with a cold and the 
 other had been in all the week with sore throat. She 
 was mending, however, and able to appreciate her pres- 
 ents, and among them your dear little pincushion and 
 needle-case, for which she wants me to thank you with 
 her love. 
 
 We each had a copy of the new sermons, which was 
 a great delight to us and seems to be like a pale reflec- 
 tion of the light and glory of past days. 
 
 May the New Year bring only blessings to you and 
 
 yours. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 28 209 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Turn a dead anguish into a living passion. 
 
 November 10. (Her birthday.) 
 
 But we like sentries are compelled to stand 
 'Neath starless skies and wait the appointed hour. 
 
 DRYDEN. 
 
 November 10. 
 
 Those who are given to good speech are near neigh- 
 bors to those who accomplish good deeds. There is a 
 saving word, as there is a saving work. 
 
 Clement of Alexandria: "It is an enterprise of 
 noble daring to take our way to God." 
 
 Our Lord, in making your career a career of suffer- 
 ing, has called you even by this very means to unite 
 yourself closely to Him. You must oblige yourself to 
 believe this, for the more your heart is able to enter 
 into this secret the more you will feel your sorrows 
 changed into ineffable consolations. . . . And you, 
 my child, forgotten and always suffering, are evidently 
 called by God, and that in an especial manner, to be 
 a disciple of the Divine Cross. Your happiness will 
 never be found in freedom from pain; but only in holy 
 and entire resignation, and in the closest union with 
 Him who has suffered for your sake. BESSON.
 
 210 1897 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. January 1st. 
 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Don't think by this that we have run down to pass 
 the holidays on our family estates but I wanted to 
 thank you for that dearest volume of Christina Rossetti 
 on my new landlordly paper. You knew how much 
 I wanted her and when your letter came I guessed 
 what the book would be but not how sweetly it would 
 be bound in green and gold, with my initials on it and 
 the date (it only remains now for you to write your 
 name in it) and that there would be a whole series in it 
 which I had never read as well as all my old favorites. 
 I am as pleased as possible about it and only wish I 
 could thank you for it in person. And so that good 
 day may be put off till August? but not a single second 
 longer, remember. "Hope deferred maketh the heart 
 sick " and you'll have to reconcile me to your new 
 plan by promising to come to Castle Rackrent for at 
 least a week as soon as you land, will you? Oh! I do 
 know how sad the home-coming will be, but then it will 
 be home, after all, with its duties and friends and ten- 
 der associations and all that makes life what it is. 
 
 If you haven't got the last volume of Mr. Brooks's 
 sermons ("New Starts in Life") I have an extra copy 
 waiting to send you. 
 
 And now I am sure you will be glad to hear what I for- 
 got to tell you in my last letter that I had got down- 
 stairs two or three times quite successfully and on Tues- 
 day I dressed in my best and absolutely descended to a 
 small half -dinner party of Ellen and Bella, Joe Smith
 
 Aet. 28 211 
 
 and Charley Putnam, who all dined here before going 
 to a charade party at the Curtis's, and tho' the next 
 day ended in a very bad turn I bore it so triumphantly 
 at the time that I feel much encouraged. Mamma is 
 just getting over a bronchitical cold and Paulina spent 
 the week before housed with tonsilitis, so you see we are 
 in the winter fashion. Mamma wants me to give you 
 her love and thank you for the pretty Christmas card. 
 Later I must tell you a little about my presents but I 
 never get started talking to you but time and paper 
 come to an end. 
 
 Mrs. Bell was here yesterday and Mrs. Whitman the 
 evening before, so you see my days are set in jewels. 
 I love you as dearly in '97 as I did in '96, and am always 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 January 15th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Your letter has just come and I am going to answer 
 it in the midst of a happy confusion of account-books 
 and marketing lists work baskets (not mine) and 
 bird-cages. 
 
 Mamma is just on the way to see the cook my dear 
 St. Ursula is lying on a chair asleep her face mak- 
 ing sunshine in the shady place. Sans-Gene is rushing 
 over everything and Hamlet is watching his Aunt Paul- 
 ina fill the candy-horns for our belated Christmas party 
 tomorrow, when we not only expect Dickson and Anstiss 
 and the four children, but Helen and Jim and their ewe- 
 lamb, if Jack can be called so. Helen was here last
 
 212 1897 
 
 night with the best news of Mrs. Storrow, so that we 
 are now relieved of one anxiety. 
 
 These coming weeks are very sad and very happy 
 and sacred. I hope to go to church a week from Sun- 
 day, which falls the day after the 23rd. Yesterday, a 
 year ago, Mr. Brimmer died, and all these memories 
 make one long to come, in heart and mind, to that city 
 of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to the 
 spirits of just men made perfect whom we have known 
 and loved here on earth. 
 
 Ever and always 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 BOSTON, January 21. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I head this letter with a picture of a " chatelaine," if 
 that means not only one who owns a house but holds 
 a cat. And how are you? We are raining, snowing, 
 slipping, slushing, and when, a day ago, the thermom- 
 eter went down J^9 degrees in 86 hours, Boston lover as 
 I am, I thought you well out of it. 
 
 Since I wrote we have seen Mrs. Higginson and Mrs. 
 Whitman and Mrs. Bell, and we have had our child's 
 party and a bud-dinner for Fanny Hooper, which I sat 
 up to for three hours, laughing and talking in my best 
 clothes, without any bad results. Doesn't that sound 
 quite gay and triumphant? This afternoon Herbert 
 Lyman is coming to sing and play to me on his guitar, 
 and could Spain seem more so?
 
 Aet. 28 213 
 
 Mrs. Whitman, talking of some delightful family 
 the other day, said some people thought them "strait- 
 laced," but I told her that was rather a comfort 
 in these days of moral Mother-Hubbards. This isn't 
 a letter, is it? just a hurried word and kiss before 
 you run off to catch your green car. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, Jan. 28th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Our hearts have been full these last two days with 
 Minna Chapman's death. It seems all so tragic the 
 three little children and the young husband and this new 
 blow falling again so soon on poor Mrs. Brimmer, and it 
 is so hard to associate Death with one so full of life and 
 vigor and the "joie de vivre." As I said to Mrs. Bell, 
 it was like seeing night fall suddenly on all the warmth 
 and glow of a full summer noon. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman went on at once and it is nice to think 
 of Jack Chapman's having such a comforter to turn to 
 and such a friend. One can't help trembling at the 
 thought of what the first passion of grief will be to one 
 so passionate. 
 
 From Saturday to Wednesday I took all to myself 
 four such peaceful days what Mrs. Whitman calls 
 "a festival of memory." 
 
 She came to me, and Gertrude Brooks and Mrs. Paine, 
 and the four years seemed to slip away and leave us 
 all the grief but without the sting, and on Sunday I 
 was able to go to early Communion, which was a great 
 joy to me and tho' I felt rather ill at the time I was 
 none the worse for it on Monday. Indeed, I am much
 
 214: 1897 
 
 better and intend to get really strong so as to give 
 you a tight hug when you get home. Yesterday I got 
 downstairs to lunch and Elinor and Mr. Chaplin and 
 Joe Smith came to meet me. It was what might truly 
 be called a " succesfou" in every sense and I laughed 
 myself sick and was glad to come back to my bed. 
 Today we bid Elinor goodbye she is going to Rich- 
 mond for three weeks and the afternoons will seem 
 blank enough with only one Curtis girl to drink tea 
 with us. 
 
 Of course we have been crying our eyes out over 
 "Margaret Ogilvie," like all the rest of the world, and 
 Paulina and I have been most interested in the ' ' Life 
 of George Romanes," by his wife. Do read it some- 
 times skipping the science, as we did. He was such 
 a dear, and having reluctantly lost his first faith and 
 accepted bare materialism he fought his way back into 
 almost entire light before his death which came all 
 too early. 
 
 Mamma sends her love " a great deal " and I am 
 
 Always yours, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, Feb. 4th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 The house is in a state of "confusion worse con- 
 founded," for this is the day of the "Three C's" (or 
 the trebly cursed). Not only have superhuman efforts 
 been made to seat and feed a possible fifty-three stout 
 females, but for a day or so I have been stumbling over 
 window-men and women with pails of hot water on
 
 Aet. 28 215 
 
 these first two flights trying to make a new clean house 
 out of an old and dirty one. I tell Mamma I shall re- 
 quest a Chestnut or so (the most lynx-eyed) to run up- 
 stairs and see what a pretty view we have out of our 
 three-pair front hall bedroom where the window has 
 not been washed nor the paint scrubbed to receive them. 
 By four o'clock Mamma will, I imagine, take to her bed 
 with gratitude and a hot-water bag, and a certificate 
 from Dr. Jelly will prevent her ever having to have it 
 again. Do they have Sewing Circles in Rome, and if so 
 do they receive their dear guests in the Forum? 
 
 Your last letter sounded quite settled and cheerful. 
 Of course I will keep the sermons for you and I am go- 
 ing to write your name in them on the 21st so when 
 that Sunday comes round you are to think there is one 
 person at least across the ocean who is remembering 
 you on your birthday. By that time you will have 
 probably decided on your summer plans and tho' I shall 
 be gladder personally if June is set on for your return 
 I am not sure but August would be the wiser eco- 
 nomically and otherwise. I think it might be easier 
 for you to take up your life in the city where duties 
 crowd so close on one another tho' I know it will be 
 bitterly hard in either place. 
 
 Lie still, be strong today, but Lord, tomorrow, 
 
 What of tomorrow, Lord ? 
 
 Shall there be rest from toil, be truce from sorrow, 
 
 Be living green upon the sward 
 
 Now but a barren grave to me ; 
 
 Be joy for sorrow ? 
 
 Did I not die for thee, 
 
 Did I not live for thee ? Leave me tomorrow.
 
 216 1897 
 
 Mrs. Whitman came home from Minna's funeral Fri- 
 day and came in to see me Saturday quite overcome by 
 this new blow not only for Jack and the babies but for 
 herself. She reminds me of that remark made about 
 St. Paul, " He had a thousand friends and loved each as 
 if he had a thousand souls and died a thousand deaths 
 when he parted from them." 
 
 You have probably heard that Mr. Whitman was 
 poorly? It sounded rather alarming at first, but he is 
 able to go off on a fishing expedition with his brother 
 this week and Mrs. Whitman is going to New York for 
 a few days' entire change and rest. 
 
 Love from all, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday and Friday, 
 Feb. llth and 12th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Today Joe Lee's engagement to Maggie Cabot is abso- 
 lutely out if it had been anywhere but Boston I sup- 
 pose it would have been so ten years back. But isn't it 
 nice? She will enter so warmly into every part of his 
 life, and they are both so unselfish that they deserve to 
 be as happy as they will be now, together. We are 
 going to have them to dine here next week with Mrs. 
 Whitman and hope to get to know and love her almost 
 as well as we do Joe himself. 
 
 This is the bright side of the picture but, to quote the 
 great and good Rochester, " I've had a blow, Jane." The 
 Hoopers have suddenly decided to sail on the 24th to be 
 gone eight months! Just think of it! We are trying
 
 Aet. 28 217 
 
 hard to be glad but see stars rather. Of course after 
 a few days in London and Paris they will go straight 
 to Rome, which won't be large enough to hold my inti- 
 mate friends if this sort of thing goes on. For they are 
 adding insult to injury by taking Dr. Bigelow with them. 
 At least he has got as far, he says, as the old woman 
 who said she "was going to New York Wednesday, 
 D.V., and coming back Saturday anyway!" He came 
 to make me a farewell call Monday, and Tuesday we 
 had a good-bye dinner of eight for Ellen. It was pleas- 
 anter than anything with a good-bye in it sounds as if 
 it could be, and I was allowed to sit through the meal 
 and was then carried upstairs to my bed so you see 
 I am better. All last week I got tired-er and tired-er 
 and finally on Saturday and Sunday I was very ill but 
 I am pulling through now. Perhaps it would be quicker 
 if something exciting didn't happen every few minutes. 
 You can picture us this summer in solitary grandeur on 
 our hill the Hoopers gone you and Bella Curtis re- 
 fusing to return and Joe Lee a married man. 
 
 Paulina is in a perfect whirl of gaiety just now I 
 mean for us and I wish you could see her going out 
 to dinner in her new black velvet gown trimmed with 
 rose-colored satin and real lace, with her new pendant 
 round her neck. My bosom swells with sisterly pride. 
 It's a way of being vain without the sin or is it? 
 When one is as close as a Siamese twin? 
 
 That dear Helen Storrow now comes to see me regu- 
 larly on your Thursdays and has brought me a tea cup 
 with little rosebuds just like the one you gave me that 
 got broken in fact to take its place. But new things
 
 218 1897 
 
 don't ever really take the place of old ones, do they? 
 and if not a china cup certainly not the place of an old 
 
 friend. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 February 18th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 It seems as tho' we had come to the Land of Beulah, 
 where "The Bells did so ring and the Trumpets con- 
 tinually sound so melodiously " and where " they would 
 cry again, ' So many went over the water and were let 
 in at the Golden Gates today.' ' 
 
 Mr. Curtis's cold changed into slight pneumonia Fri- 
 day and he died quietly that same evening less from 
 the disease than from the feebleness left by all these 
 years of poor health. In a true sense he died in the 
 war leaving ten of his best years there and all his 
 strength and if it had not been for the absence of 
 two of the girls one would feel that it was grief with- 
 out its sting beautiful and timely. But poor Bella 
 so far away, with her aching head and low spirits and 
 tender affections makes one's heart ache. Elinor was 
 in Richmond but got home Sunday under Mr. Higgin- 
 son's care, who had gone to meet her in New York. I 
 have seen her every day and dear Fanny, and yester- 
 day Steenie, who is going to be the great mainstay of 
 them all. Mr. Curtis's coffin was carried by four of his 
 sons, all good, strong, loving boys. You know how 
 kind a friend he has always been to Paulina and me, so 
 that we not only grieve for them but with them. This
 
 Aet. 28 219 
 
 is the first break in that great, happy family and Mrs. 
 Curtis is alone after three-and-thirty years of that close 
 and tender companionship, but she has always lived in 
 the great things of life the eternal things and she 
 is rich in children whose first and only thought is how 
 to comfort her and to live worthily of their father's 
 memory. 
 
 Oh, my dear Mrs. Dexter, that gives me such a pang 
 for you! When you get this you will be keeping your 
 holy days in a foreign land among strangers, but one is 
 as close there as here to the real home which every year 
 grows more familiar to us all. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [Mar. 9.] 
 Oh, my darlings, 
 
 I must send you a line today though no words are 
 necessary between us, I know. The great sorrow that 
 has come to you has fallen upon us, too, and a little 
 of the deep joy that comes hand in hand with sorrow. 
 
 Last night I lay awake and prayed that this cup 
 might pass from you but this morning when your mes- 
 sage came to say that she had passed from life to life 
 one felt, almost with a burst of triumph, what it all 
 must mean to her who has lived so long by faith. 
 
 As one's love follows her the great gates seem to open 
 and those who have gone before and whom she loved 
 seem almost closer than those who are still with us. 
 There is one fold and one Shepherd. For you I know 
 the vision must be very, very bright in the midst of the 
 darkness in which you stand looking up. We who 
 love you and share your grief can only hold your hand
 
 220 1897 
 
 and wait to hear from you the message that God speaks 
 to those who mourn. 
 
 May He, who seeth the sighs of the heart before they 
 are uttered and heareth them still when they are 
 hushed into silence, comfort you, dearest Ethel and 
 Lily, and help us all to follow more and more in her 
 footsteps who is now a pillar of the great Church Invisi- 
 ble where we all worship in spirit. 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Wednesday, March 10th. 
 Oh, my dear, dear Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 If you were only here so that I could put my arms 
 round you and feel your bodily sympathy in this new 
 trouble that has come to us. Mrs. Paine died at three 
 o'clock yesterday morning. You know how dearly we 
 love her! and how close the bond has been between us 
 these last four years for much longer between her 
 and poor Paulina with all those memories of long stays 
 at Waltham during Mr. Brooks's lifetime. It brings 
 back all the first ache and desolation of those early days 
 without him when she used to come and cling to us 
 heart-broken herself but full of courage and childlike 
 faith. I never saw any one to whom the other life was 
 so clear and vivid and her loving heart had gone out 
 into it before the spirit followed it. But it is impossible 
 to realize that we shall never again hear that quick step 
 on the stairs nor feel that warm kiss nor hear all those 
 eager, loving questions about ourselves. My room is 
 full of associations of her the rug she knit me, the 
 chair she used to sit in, never leaning back, the last
 
 Aet. 28 221 
 
 flowers she sent me, still fresh and there are no 
 human consolations no long illness or weariness or 
 hint of age and what will that house be without her? 
 and poor Edith Storer, to whom her mother has been 
 everything? She has been very ill with the grippe for 
 the last month and was only pronounced out of danger 
 Monday. It was in nursing her that Mrs. Paine caught 
 hers, and she had the same high fever and violent cough. 
 It turned to pneumonia Sunday and tho' they did not 
 tell me I grew alarmed and distressed about her Mon- 
 day evening so much so that I lay awake all that 
 night and when the bell rang early the next morning I 
 said to Paulina, " There it is." Ethel's message seemed 
 to bring news with which we had been long familiar. 
 Poor children! their father was away had been away 
 ever since their mother's illness. They telegraphed him 
 Sunday to New Orleans and missed him sent to Wash- 
 ington Monday in vain, and finally reached him at Tus- 
 kegee. He got home this morning and asked to see 
 Paulina, who says he looks fearfully broken. 
 
 Dr. Donald has been kindness itself and has the right 
 to comfort which real love for them all and a real shar- 
 ing of their grief gives. 
 
 One can't feel that Mr. Brooks can be far from that 
 household in its great grief. At least one can feel that 
 this world and the other are very close at such times 
 and that, here or there, there is "one fold and one 
 Shepherd." 
 
 Mr. William Brooks, who is still ill abed, exclaimed 
 when he heard it, "Oh, how glad Phillips will be to 
 see her! " 
 
 Her children are full of beautiful faith and courage 
 the legacy that she has left them. One gathers strength
 
 222 1897 
 
 thro' such a sorrow tho' it leaves a gap in our lives that 
 nothing can ever fill. 
 
 My thoughts were with you Sunday. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELLEN S. HOOPER. 
 
 Thursday, March llth. 
 My dear, dear Ellen, 
 
 How I long to have you here to help to comfort 
 Tweeby after the heat and burden of these sad days. 
 You know how dearly we love Mrs. Paine and how close 
 the tie has been between us these last years, but for 
 Paulina the friendship has been of much longer date 
 and the thought of her is interwoven with all her hap- 
 piest memories and the time when Mr. Brooks was still 
 among us. 
 
 This has brought back all the ache and desolation of 
 those early days without him. It seems impossible to 
 think that we shall never again hear that quick step 
 on the stairs nor feel those warm arms round us! We 
 knew and loved her as one can only love those with 
 whom one has gone down hand in hand into the deep 
 waters of a great affliction and she had such a loving 
 and constant heart! That grief was as fresh to her, I 
 am sure, as it was that Monday four years ago when 
 she sent us word that what had been the glory of our 
 lives was ended forever. 
 
 But she was full of courage and child-like faith. 
 
 There was no flagging in interest, no hint of age or 
 weariness, no ceasing of that eager work for her Divine 
 Master. 
 
 One can't help feeling a little of the joy with which
 
 Aet. 28 223 
 
 that brave and loyal spirit must have sprung forward 
 to new tasks there where "His servants shall serve 
 Him and they shall see His face and His name shall be 
 in their foreheads." 
 
 She has left her sons and daughters a rich inheritance 
 of faith and hope. 
 
 Lily is going to Edith today and Ethel is to come to 
 me for a little while. 
 
 Pray for those poor children and for Mr. Paine, who 
 came back yesterday to that empty house. 
 
 The funeral is to be tomorrow at Trinity Church 
 which has been a true home to her these twenty years. 
 
 We both embrace you, darling. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 Dearest Elinor, 
 
 I long to kiss you again after this long week and to 
 thank you for those dear little sunny-faced daffodils. 
 You know it was only my door and not my heart that 
 had to be shut against you and Fanny. 
 
 If only poor Paulina might have some of the lying- 
 still time, but she has to bear all the burden and heat of 
 the days and looks sadly worn, I think. 
 
 Being any little help to the Paines is her greatest com- 
 fort and from the wringing of the heart that comes 
 from sympathy one wouldn't spare her if one could. 
 
 We all drink of the same great cup. 
 
 My dearest love to Fanny. 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE. 
 Monday.
 
 224: 1897 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, March 25. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I feel quite proud to be able to write you myself 
 today and to tell you that I love you dearly and am 
 really better. Last week I felt so badly to be cut off 
 from seeing the Paines, which is a sort of duty as well as 
 the greatest comfort and privilege, they are so brave 
 and sweet. And I have been so pleased that not only 
 the girls have felt like coming to me, but George and 
 Robert both, and last night Mr. Paine himself. He 
 talked so much of Mrs. Paine and Mr. Brooks that the 
 happy past seemed more real than the sad present but 
 it wrung my heart to see and hear him ! His life is ended 
 and he was as much in love with her as five and 
 thirty years ago, besides all that deeper love of knowl- 
 edge and one-ness which we outsiders can only imagine 
 on our knees. 
 
 Ah, well! to that household grief has indeed come "as 
 angels came to the tent of Abraham. The mere frolic 
 of life stands still, but the soul takes the grief in as a 
 guest kisses its hand, spreads its table with the best 
 food, gives it a seat by the fireside and listens rever- 
 ently for what it has to say about the God from whom 
 it came." 
 
 Mrs. Whitman says life can only be led on the mili- 
 tary basis, and we fill up the ranks and march on. 
 How we long for you absent ones to be back in the 
 home regiment! And, dear, tho' you can't expect hap- 
 piness I know the call to work and comfort others is 
 an almost stronger appeal to your tender and unselfish
 
 Aet. 28 225 
 
 heart. And you are one of those who " have the 
 
 keys." 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 I copied you this little verse yesterday. If only our 
 lives could be bright enough to give the light. 
 
 Lord, how can man preach thy eternal word? 
 
 He is a brittle, crazie glasse ; 
 Yet in thy temple thou dost him afford 
 This glorious and transcendent place 
 To be a window, through thy grace. 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Tuesday before Easter, 
 
 April 13th, 1897. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 There seems a doom on our Thursdays, so I am going 
 to begin my letter this week in good time and cheat the 
 Fates. I am quite ashamed of the dates on my list, to 
 see how many times I have had to miss writing of late, 
 and that after so proud a beginning they go straggling 
 off after Feb. 18th to March 10th, March 25th, and 
 April 2nd, but I hope you found all those waiting you 
 in Rome and Mamma's one in between? 
 
 Your letter from Palermo came yesterday and it is nice 
 to think of your having started homeward up the boot 
 of Italy. If only you were a little more like the man 
 who " went with one prance from Turkey to France." 
 
 However, next month comes Manchester and then, 
 Hey, presto! August and you with plenty of sun- 
 shine stored up for wintry days.
 
 226 1897 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 Yesterday Mrs. Bell spent an hour and a half with us, 
 "making sunshine in the shady place," and Monday 
 we had a call from Mrs. Whitman, who is getting back 
 her lost voice. I have seen besides during the last three 
 days, Ethel Paine, Elinor and Fanny Curtis, Gertrude 
 Brooks, and Mrs. Templeman Coolidge, and Helen Stor- 
 row so you see I am richly blessed, as usual. Now I 
 am going to take the rest of the week quite quietly all 
 to myself. One clings to these Lenten days and parts 
 from them with regret. They are in keeping with one's 
 saddened outlook and yet full of that " strange and holy 
 quietude " that comes in the hush after a sorrow before 
 the daily routine has to be taken up again. If only 
 this solemn season would leave our lives a little fuller 
 of the knowledge of Christ and "the power of his 
 resurrection." 
 
 With brightest Easter wishes. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 To Miss ELLEN S. HOOPER. 
 
 BOSTON, April 19. 
 Dearest Ellen, 
 
 We can think of nothing but the happiness which 
 has come to the dear Paines in the midst of their grief 
 a real Easter gleam of hope and joy. George finally 
 decided, on Friday, to go into the ministry, a beautiful 
 tribute of love to his mother, whose great wish it was. 
 He had been dedicated to the temple, almost like the 
 infant Samuel, and Mr. Brooks always spoke of having 
 him for his assistant when he was a little boy in dresses. 
 But of late years they have not spoken of it because
 
 Aet. 28 227 
 
 they wanted it so much, and didn't want to bring any 
 influence to bear. Though George's inclinations have 
 lain that way his modesty as to his powers has with- 
 held him. You know what a consecrated life his has 
 always been and what a pure and loving heart he will 
 bring to this fuller service of God and his fellow men. 
 We have just had such a beautiful letter from him this 
 morning. 
 
 It has always seemed so sad to us that none of Mr. 
 Brooks's young men should carry his message to others, 
 and now the dear old Church has got one who is worthy 
 to be the first fruits. Mrs. Whitman said this news 
 made one go about one's work with a lighter heart, and 
 you can imagine what it is to his family, whose loves 
 in higher love endure. 
 
 Nelly knocks and announces George himself. 
 
 Your very loving 
 
 ALICE AND PAULINA. 
 
 Thank Fanny for her dear note. 
 
 Would you mind letting Mrs. Dexter see this letter? 
 
 To Miss ISABELLA CURTIS. 
 
 BOSTON, April 22. 
 Dearest Bol, 
 
 Alice says that the play is now drawing to a conclu- 
 sion, all the conspirators are assembling in Florence. 
 You and Mrs. Dexter and Ellen will compare our let- 
 ters, and it will be discovered that the same time-worn 
 jest has served for three, and Mme. de SeVigne* will be 
 blasted. Notwithstanding this horrible disclosure, it is 
 nice to think of all you dear people together, a little 
 Jewish colony in the midst of Babylon the great.
 
 228 1897 
 
 In our window at the moment is a purple glass Iris, 
 just come home from Mrs. Whitman's shop. It went 
 up and made a call on your mother this morning, and 
 really is a dear, almost too beautiful to send. 
 
 We love you fondly and rejoice to think how few 
 more times we shall have to tell you so with cold old 
 
 ink. 
 
 YOUR ALICE AND PAULINA. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, April 22. 
 Dear Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 When we heard of Mr. Storrow's death almost our 
 first thought was of you so far away, and longing, 
 as we knew you would, to be here to do some little 
 thing to comfort Mrs. Storrow. But sympathy is so 
 much larger a thing than we can grasp that who 
 knows but your thoughts and prayers for her may do 
 as much there as all the little acts of kindness that 
 your nearer presence might have made possible. Jim 
 is so sure that it is just the death his father would 
 have chosen that perhaps it will a little reconcile Mrs. 
 Storrow to what was most painful in the outward cir- 
 cumstances of her bereavement. For the rest, she is 
 not one to sorrow " even as others which have no 
 hope," and Bessie is like a very loving daughter to her. 
 Mamma and Dickson, who went to the funeral, said it 
 was very touching to see her come out leaning on 
 Jim's arm, and to see him, reserved as he is, reach out 
 his other hand and pat hers. I hope to hear just how 
 she is, physically, from that dear, affectionate Helen, 
 tomorrow.
 
 Aet. 28 229 
 
 We had such a beautiful Easter-day cloudless 
 and still, with a fresh sparkle in the air just such 
 weather as one would choose for that " day of days." 
 And my room was full of flowers, which spoke their 
 own message of hope and peace, and love too. One 
 thought of that bit of Browning, "But who clothes 
 summer? God, who created all things, can renew." 
 
 Had you Easter lilies in Rome? If you could only 
 see the one Ethel sent me! One great, tall stalk with 
 a burst of ten perfect blossoms at the top, like a peal of 
 bells. Mrs. Whitman runs in frequently, just to wor- 
 ship it, and "Susan Coolidge " watched it coming to 
 me and said she had never seen such a gorgeous one. 
 
 And I must tell you what a kind thing Dr. Donald 
 did, amidst all his work on Easter. He sent me three 
 red roses from the Chancel, with a really beautiful 
 note. I must keep it to show you. 
 
 And so you have seen our dear Ellen and will 
 shortly see her again in Florence? We asked her to 
 show you our last letter about the great happiness that 
 
 has come to the dear Paines. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 April 28th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 We can talk of nothing think of nothing day or 
 night, but gallant little Greece hurling herself vainly 
 against Turkey, that great Power of Darkness, while 
 the Nations stand by guarding their money interests 
 and callously watching their treaties violated, and an 
 innocent people, whom they had promised to protect,
 
 230 1897 
 
 led like lambs to the slaughter I feel sometimes as if 
 my heart would burst. "All the earth is full of dark- 
 ness and cruel habitations." " And I looked and there 
 was none to help." But if there is Divine Justice in 
 heaven there must come a great day of judgment for 
 the nations, when they will have to tread the winepress 
 of the wrath of Almighty God, and England, whom 
 we have believed in and looked up to! who more than 
 any other helped to preserve Turkey to be still what she 
 has always been, " an organized negation of God." 
 
 Have you read William Watson's "Year of Shame" ? 
 or that poem of his beginning, 
 
 O languid audience, met to see 
 
 The last act of the tragedy 
 
 On that terrific stage afar, 
 
 Where burning towns the footlights are ! 
 
 O listless Europe, day by day, 
 
 Callously sitting out the play ! 
 
 Elinor was telling us last night of a little Armenian 
 girl of four years old at the "Gwynne House" who 
 throws her arm up over her head and shrieks at the 
 sight of any stranger. Her father explained in a quiet, 
 matter-of-fact voice that she had been like that ever 
 since the last massacre, when she saw her mother and 
 brothers and sisters murdered before her eyes and 
 only one out of so many thousands like her! but it 
 brings it home to one's heart. And to think of our 
 sitting in our quiet houses with safety and purity and 
 justice all about us helpless to help. But at least we 
 can think of them and feel with them, and it is a com- 
 fort to think that nothing can come to a great section 
 of humanity without in a real way coming to us all.
 
 Aet. 28 231 
 
 We are all our brother's keeper, and "the whole crea- 
 tion groaneth and travaileth in pain together." 
 
 "Nevertheless we, according to the promise, look for 
 new heavens and a new earth wherein dwelleth right- 
 eousness," and one cannot be a Christian and not take 
 courage. Faith and Hope go hand in hand. 
 
 I have written you a gloomy letter, but out of the 
 full heart the mouth speaketh, and we could have 
 spoken of nothing else had you been here today. 
 
 Now, trumpeter, for thy close, 
 
 Vouchsafe a higher strain than any yet ; 
 
 Sing to my soul, renew its languishing faith and hope, 
 
 Rouse up my slow belief, give me some vision of the future, 
 
 Give me for once its prophecy and joy. 
 
 O glad, exulting, culminating song ! 
 
 A vigor more than earth's is in thy notes, 
 
 Marches of victory man disenthralled, the conqueror at last! 
 
 Hymns to the Universal God from universal man all joy ! 
 
 Women and men in wisdom, innocence and health all joy! 
 
 War, sorrow, suffering gone the rank earth purged nothing 
 
 but joy left ; 
 
 The ocean filled with joy the atmosphere all joy! 
 Joy ! joy ! in freedom, worship, love ! joy in the ecstasy of life ! 
 Enough to merely be ! enough to breathe ! 
 Joy ! joy ! all over joy ! 
 
 That is a bit from Walt Whitman, and isn't it fine? 
 Like wine to one's spirit. Mamma and I have just fin- 
 ished the dear ' ' Gurneys of Earlham. " It is like a spirit- 
 ual oasis in the midst of the deserts of literature. And 
 how ashamed it makes one of one's idle, cowardly life! 
 But cowards have their affections, and I am always 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 232 1897 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 BOSTON, Friday, May 7th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Your postal from Assisi has just come, and tho' you 
 mention the flowers there you say nothing about the 
 "brother and sister birds" that must flock about the 
 birthplace of that dear patron saint of pets; and to 
 think of the Hoopers being so near and never looking 
 up Saint Francis! We have just had a fat letter from 
 Ellen at Florence, where she is seeing Bella, but where 
 are you? We pictured a great bit of old Boston in the 
 midst of that romantic little town. This bit of a letter 
 must stand for two for next week this household will 
 be "on the wing." And it isn't on the wing like a 
 bird, but rather like a flying machine, which takes a 
 long time to get started and stays in the air but a few 
 ponderous seconds before falling heavily back on what 
 Mrs. Leiter calls ' ' terra-cotta. " When you hear next 
 I hope it will be on " Castle-Rackrent " paper. Did we 
 tell you our pet scheme of having Bessie pass a whole 
 month with us? to rest, and be nursed, and enliven us 
 all mentally! If we could only have Mrs. Bell close by as 
 an inducement! She made us a farewell call Tuesday 
 and was more absolutely fascinating than ever. I do 
 hope the Mattapoisett summer will be a success, but 
 by far the hardest pull for us is leaving the dear Paines 
 for so long. We need them. 
 
 Yesterday, as I could not go to church before the 
 autumn now, Dr. Donald administered the Holy Com- 
 munion to me here at home. It was all more beautiful 
 and solemn than I can express. Mamma and Paulina 
 and Dickson were about the bed, and dear little Ethel,
 
 Aet. 28 233 
 
 who is like one of us. Both the windows were wide 
 open, and Birdie sang in his cage above the great rose- 
 bush, so that it seemed as if heaven and earth were full 
 of His glory. It made me feel very happy and peace- 
 ful, and the dear room seems flooded with new light 
 now that it really has become " the little Sanctuary." 
 
 Your most loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 May 17th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 This is the first letter which I have written with my 
 own hand since our move, as Dr. Washburn insisted 
 upon three days of absolute quiet to begin with. 
 
 Yes, we bought the little red house just as it stood, 
 except for the old secretary and sideboard, which Mrs. 
 Higginson had associations with, and even those two 
 are to board with us for the present. 
 
 Our priceless Nathalie who is a widow now and 
 William, the coachman, came down four days in ad- 
 vance of the rest of the menagerie, so that when 
 Paulina and Dickson and Sans-Gene and I alighted it 
 looked quite settled and homelike. And they had 
 made me a flower-bed along the piazza, which made 
 me feel quite the pride of possession. 
 
 I was disappointed that no tenants met me at the 
 entrance of my estate, but perhaps, as they would 
 have been Irish tenants, and the welcome they might 
 have prepared might have been given from behind the 
 shelter of stonewalls, it was just as well. "Punch"
 
 234 1897 
 
 says there ought to be a close season for landlords as 
 well as other game. 
 
 The Higginsons and Curtises move down next Friday 
 and the Daltons are here already, but one feels that 
 appalling sense of emptiness that seems to fill our little 
 world. Even Mrs. Whitman says she never knew a 
 time when it seemed so empty. That made it doubly 
 hard to leave Boston, where one seemed so close to all 
 the dear memories and sad associations which must 
 take the place now of all the dear ones gone before. 
 We seem to have reached that place in our lives where 
 our great cry must be: "Abide with us, for it is toward 
 evening and the day is far spent." 
 
 My thoughts are so much with you and my dear 
 
 Ellen. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 [May 21.] 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 Dearest Elinor, 
 
 This is just to bring you my love and to tell you how 
 much my heart is with you all today. 
 
 I know the coming back to the dear old house will be 
 like realizing your grief over again in all its freshness 
 only with that numb ache that never comes at first. 
 
 But what makes it the hardest will grow to be the 
 greatest comfort all the crowding memories of the 
 happy years making so much of the sunshine of the 
 years to come. 
 
 I looked behind to find my past, 
 And lo ! it had gone before.
 
 Aet. 28 235 
 
 As time goes on and we must live more and more 
 without the bodily presence of those who make the old 
 earth homelike to us, associations grow more and more 
 sacred and it is a continual joy to me that I can asso- 
 ciate your father with this room as well as have so vivid 
 a picture of his driving up with Jennie thro' the woods. 
 
 Dearest Elinor, I know how heavy your heart has 
 been of late how the aching need grows with the days 
 but after the hard taking up of the burden of daily 
 life again I think there is a new realization of that 
 abiding presence which one so easily feels when one has 
 just seen, as it were, the heavens open to receive those 
 we love out of our sight. And you all have the secret 
 of turning your personal pain into a motive for making 
 other people's lives brighter, I know with all the 
 added nearness of this last year. 
 
 Your loving old friend, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, May 27. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 You see the new hearth has grown quite homelike 
 and familiar and before long you will be sitting beside 
 it and your absence will seem like a dream. A peace- 
 ful dream, I hope, from which you will have waked 
 rested and refreshed. 
 
 Bella is probably landing today and Mrs. Curtis will 
 feel happier with that last chick gathered under her 
 wing. Now that the move here, which she dreaded so 
 much, is absolutely made all the crowding associa- 
 tions of the happy years, that are over for her, seem 
 chiefly comforting and our dear Paines have gone to
 
 236 1897 
 
 Waltham, where all is so full of their mother. But 
 thro' all their fiery trial one has felt as if they were like 
 the three men cast into the furnace bound, and those 
 watching have seen ' ' four men loose walking in th e 
 midst of the fire and they have no hurt; and the form 
 of the fourth is like the Son of God." 
 
 Dear little Ethel is coming to us next week after 
 the Shaw celebrations, to which Paulina will come in 
 with them. Mr. Higginson speaks on him at Sanders 
 Theatre, Sunday afternoon, which will be a beautiful 
 prelude to the great day itself. I am going to send you 
 a "Harper's Weekly," in case you haven't seen St. 
 Gaudens's magnificent relief. How can people speak of 
 the loss such a man as Shaw is to the country when his 
 life is cut short? What after-service could be equal to 
 the image the nation has of him and those like him, 
 in her heart eternally young dying at the supreme 
 moment? "He being made perfect, in a short time 
 fulfilled a long time" and left a name that must 
 sound like a bugle call to generations yet unborn. In 
 these times of darkness and shame it is a comfort to 
 dwell on our " Heroic Age." 
 
 Your very loving 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 Here are two verses out of Christina Rossetti's new 
 volume which I thought appropriate to Palm Sunday 
 and very dear besides: 
 
 My vineyard that is mine I have to keep, 
 Pruning for fruit the pleasant twigs and leaves. 
 Tend thou thy cornfield one day thou shalt reap 
 In joy thy ripened sheaves.
 
 Aet. 28 237 
 
 But if my lot be sand where nothing grows ? 
 Nay, who hath said it ? Tune a thankful psalm ; 
 For, though the desert bloom not as the rose, 
 It yet can rear thy palm. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 Tuesday Morning, 
 
 June 15th. 
 Oh, my dearest Linka, 
 
 What a day! We had begun to think that story 
 about the dove and olive branch was all a myth, but 
 now everything is forgiven and forgotten. 
 
 Paulina has just been off getting blackberry vines 
 and purple irises and buttercups for the table and I 
 only wish you were here to stand with ' ' Gammardge " 
 and her cortege of cats in the sun where I could see you. 
 
 If you were, Paulina wouldn't have had to drive the 
 little mare in solitary state over to the Curtis's yester- 
 day but even I was not more alarmed than if she had 
 been riding on one of those bits of shingle tied by two 
 strings to holes in a turtle's back. We used to find that 
 a most thrilling thing to watch when we were children 
 and lived by rivers where other people's escaped turtles 
 seemed to abound. 
 
 And to think of Lily's coming to Castle Rackrent 
 we are filled with joy at the very thought. I wonder 
 when you all come back from Dublin whether Robert 
 wouldn't spend a night with us? or perhaps sometime 
 when he has to come down from Dublin on business? 
 Then we would feel as if we weren't robbing you and 
 I know how necessary he has become to you all.
 
 238 1897 
 
 As for you, darling, I am counting on three more days 
 in the autumn to end my summer with another such 
 little bright spot as you made for us in the beginning. 
 
 I cannot tell you I wouldn't if I could all your 
 brave and sweet example is to us, but the very thought 
 of you makes my heart grow warm. When another 
 of the great links that bound us is gathered into God's 
 hand it draws us not only so much closer together, but 
 so much closer to Him. The whole friendship takes a 
 great step on and up. 
 
 My heart has ached for you all so much this summer. 
 I have known a little what it must have been. Do you 
 remember in one of those letters to Mrs. Shaw how 
 some one speaks of the great sacrifice which is made as 
 a whole at first, having then to be made day by day in 
 detail? And every new light seems to make the grief 
 more vivid. 
 
 But in all our loneliest moments in all the chang- 
 ing moods that sorrow wears, " He who seest the sighs 
 of the heart before they are uttered and heareth them 
 still when they are hushed into silence" is our Com- 
 forter. And I know you have the secret of turning the 
 comfort you receive into joyful service for others for 
 
 God's sake. 
 
 Your most loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday, June 24. 
 Darling Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 To think my letter should have given you a sleepless 
 night! As if you hadn't enough gloomy friends already!
 
 Aet. 28 239 
 
 There are times when "the heavy weight of all this 
 unintelligible world " lies heavy on my heart, but you 
 know I ampersonally quite happy. 
 
 And the friends here and the friends there make my 
 outward and inward life very rich and full. To say 
 nothing of Mamma and Paulina, who fold my whole 
 existence in their love. I want to say with Herbert 
 
 Thou who hast given so much to me, 
 
 Give one thing more, a thankful heart ; 
 
 Not thankful when it pleaseth me, 
 
 As though Thy blessings had spare days, 
 
 But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise. 
 
 And now you would like to know what we are doing 
 with ourselves this exquisite weather. Last evening I 
 sat out for an hour and more in the porch and had a 
 long call from Mrs. Higginson, and a short call from 
 Mrs. Whitman, and then sat up to supper. So you see 
 I am getting slowly but surely stronger to greet you 
 on your return, and, by the way, you have never told 
 me what day in August you sail on nor by what ship? 
 As soon as you have kissed your relations on the wharf 
 you remember you are coming straight to Castle Rack- 
 rent for a quiet week? I know several people who will 
 be glad enough to get you home again and the Ser- 
 mons are waiting for you in my drawer with their 
 belated birthday greetings and Mamma and I are 
 prepared to quarrel as to whose friend you are. She 
 says I stole you from her. Did I? 
 
 Mrs. Bell writes that even the roads at Mattapoisett 
 don't turn but go straight ahead nowhere and that 
 as there are no rocks to be warned from she supposes 
 the lighthouse is to prevent people's coming to those
 
 240 1897 
 
 shores for the summer. Mrs. Pratt wrote Mrs. Whit- 
 man that "it was no worse to say it than to think it; 
 Mattapoisett was the derndest place," but I daresay they 
 are having a very pleasant time notwithstanding all. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Thursday, July 29. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 As one would run to the gate to meet a dear friend 
 and then greet her again at the porch, so I like to send 
 you a little message of love at each stage of your jour- 
 ney, and when you come aboard ship your face will 
 really be turned homeward. 
 
 You will have closed that page of your life and will 
 have turned back to the sad, familiar ones again. And 
 I hope your return will not be as sad as you fancy. 
 Our lives would be dreadful if the past had no power 
 to illuminate the present, and if associations were not 
 like a pale kind of sunshine in days otherwise so dark. 
 
 The memories of the past and the great hopes of the 
 future ought to be like strong wings to us all I wish 
 they were always. Do you remember Mr. Brooks's 
 speaking of ' ' frivolity and despair, those two benight- 
 eners of the human soul "? and the last, I fancy, is even 
 worse than the former. I have been struck, in read- 
 ing Ecclesiasticus lately, how many warnings there are 
 for the hopeless and discouraged. The " Woe unto you 
 that have lost patience," and " Woe be to fearful hearts 
 and faint hands," followed by "Ye that fear the Lord 
 hope for good and for everlasting joy."
 
 Aet. 28 241 
 
 Here's quite a sermon which I have been preaching, 
 but more to myself than to you, and I will end it with 
 three lines which I have just come across in Brown- 
 ing's " La Saisiaz: " 
 
 While for love Oh, how but losing love does who so loves 
 
 succeed 
 By the death-pang to the birth-throe learning what is love 
 
 indeed ? 
 Only grant my soul may carry high through death her cup 
 
 unspilled. 
 
 I need not tell you I am always 
 
 Lovingly yours. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, Friday Morn [August]. 
 Darling Tomahawk, 
 
 Mamma and I almost wept with joy when we heard 
 of our little Soeur de Charite lying out in a canoe under 
 the stars just like other people. And what beautiful 
 weather you are having now! My mound was still too 
 wet for me to sit on yesterday afternoon, so we dallied 
 in the porch and drank sarsaparilla this time not 
 served us by our "dainty sarsaparilliere," as Bella and 
 I remarked with a smile. For those dear old Curtises 
 say some of them are coming over every day and this 
 time it was Elinor and Bella again. Later Joe and 
 Maggie came for a little call a very little one, as they 
 were walking home to supper and I imagine Sir Henry 
 Lee of Ditchley brooks not delay. She perfectly irradi- 
 ated happiness and affection, and dear old Joe sat and 
 basked in it. I've come round to your opinion, and
 
 242 1897 
 
 think he's got the very one only person for him. "His 
 atmosphere," as Mrs. Whitman says. Maggie and I 
 kissed at parting and then were both took rather shy. 
 We must have them to supper every week in Septem- 
 ber. Do you think it would be more appropriate to 
 ask them with Mrs. Dexter or Miss Milberry? 
 
 Mamma has gone out for her little drive and I am 
 just gloating on the sea and sky on my piazza. A few 
 moments ago a doll's Bengal tiger came strolling up the 
 road out of the shadow into the sunny strip. There is 
 a lamb's kidney waiting for her when she comes in. 
 
 Last night when she came up to the porch at supper 
 time the milk boy's fox terrier barred the way, and 
 then made quite a fierce rush at her, growling and bark- 
 ing. Dickson came gallantly to the rescue and coaxed 
 Sans-G-ene down from the oak-tree where she had re- 
 treated and brought her in with her tail as big as Gam- 
 mardge's arm. Dickson is a nice boy! 
 
 Did Dickson tell you of little Robert's devoting over 
 an hour to one small pool of water on the rocks, " so as 
 to find out everything that was in it"? Mamma said 
 it was like William and Lucy Smith examining the 
 grassy top of a wall inch by inch when they were 
 engaged. 
 
 "Yes," said the scoffing Tuncle; "'Angelic Lucy, 
 here is a spider! ' ' Soul's William, I see an ant! ' " 
 
 Uncle Melly's day off hasn't crystalized yet, but next 
 week he is going to Sorrento. At least so he says. 
 
 Later. 
 
 Mamma has just got back, bringing letters from Mrs. 
 Bell and Mrs. Dexter and Ellen, but none from you
 
 Aet. 28 243 
 
 which is a disappointment. It will come this after- 
 noon, I suppose. I enclose Ellen's because it is thin. 
 
 Mrs. Bell is to go with Mrs. Pratt for one night to 
 Mrs. Howe, who really needs them, but all other invi- 
 tations she declines, so she " can't follow where her 
 heart unwillingly goes," etc. She says she has u been 
 haunted all her life by the fear of waking up dead at 
 some unfortunate friend's house." Doesn't that sound 
 like her? 
 
 So you call yourself a spider? What do you think of 
 me, weaving all this long web out of nothing? 
 
 I see I have left out three words, " One more triumph 
 
 for devils and sorrow for angels." 
 
 Your angelic 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 Wednesday Morn [August]. 
 Dear Gregory, 
 
 Is it bubbling hot with you? The grasshoppers seem 
 to like it, and hiss and buzz and sizzle like doughnuts in 
 a frying kettle. Sans-Gene came lanking in at nine 
 quite exhausted with the heat and now she is asleep in 
 her bassinet. Gammardge didn't tell you how she did 
 arrive, as I prophesied, just after you left yesterday, 
 her necktie untied and torn and dirty from the haste 
 she had made and her little bunch of catkins wilting in 
 her mit-clad hand. She flumped down outside our door 
 with a mew when she found you were gone and was
 
 244: 1897 
 
 afterwards 'tic to 'tomach from disappointment, she 
 said, but some think from an over-indulgence in fishes' 
 heads. 
 
 Did Dickson show you Dorr's coat of arms, which he 
 has been looking up for a book plate? Three heraldic 
 boars' heads. I suggested the motto, "La nature l>a 
 fait sanglier la civilization Va fait cochon." 
 
 Bella looked poorly. She and Elinor had been over 
 seeing Amy Coolidge, and of course Bella had William's 
 supper much on her mind. Fancy William Blake de- 
 pending on his victuals. 
 
 Hug Ethel and Lily for me and write me just how 
 they are and all about them. 
 
 Oh, Spidrousness, this is but an empty web without 
 you and I am like a desolate dried fly hanging in one 
 
 corner once 
 
 Your festive 
 
 NANNY. 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 September 15. 
 Dear Nelinor, 
 
 I am so anxious to hear whether your bird has flown 
 as well as mine a tomahawk. 
 
 I am afraid she went up yesterday alone, for Uncle 
 Melly thinks Ethel doesn't get off till today. However, 
 all roads lead to Rome, and what a lovely time those 
 three little friends will have together in that earthly 
 paradise, chaperoning Adam and Eve! 
 
 When I asked Paulina if I might have a cigar box 
 full of sand for slips she said I wanted " the earth with
 
 Aet. 28 245 
 
 a fence round it," but ha! ha! now she is gone I have 
 asked Joe Clark for a sand-box, and mean to spend my 
 substance in riotous slipping. I have chosen you as 
 my companion in vice. Don't you think it would be 
 awfully nice if we could make a few tries at those yel- 
 low Irish roses you met in the village. I say this ten- 
 tatively as dear departed Jean Ingelow would say 
 as you would have to do the begging; and have you any 
 big sweet-briars that wouldn't notice a lost branch, or 
 anything else juicy in the rose line to spare? I have 
 enough wichuriana and polyantha already, which you 
 must help me pot later. You see what an honor it is 
 to be chosen as my companion in these little affairs. 
 Yours on her hind legs with her paws a-dangle, 
 
 NANNY Doa. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 Thursday Morn, 
 September 16th. 
 Dearest Tweeby, 
 
 As you know my desire for ' ' the earth with a fence 
 round it " you will not be surprised to hear that I have 
 got a box filled with sand, by that nice Joe Clark, and 
 meditate verbena slips. How else shall the Roman 
 arena be supplied? 
 
 At other moments I crane out my window and watch 
 my new garden-bed, which has been dug and refilled in 
 layers and needs only to be peppered with wood-ashes 
 to be a perfect thing. Already before the eye of my 
 imagination I see a thick screen of climbing roses and
 
 24:6 1897 
 
 a high hedge of sweet-peas all blossom and no stick. 
 But lest you should think you were getting a business 
 letter from Asa Gray I will change the subject first 
 inquiring if that dear Ethel is going to let Walter give 
 some small roses green-house room for me next winter? 
 
 Do you think at my present rising-scale weight I 
 could be, in any sense, called "a slip of a girl"? 
 which reminds me that when Ben and William were 
 bearing me upstairs yesterday, faint and done-up after 
 my drive, William said to Ben, " This is a ten-pound 
 heavier load than last year, Ben." " Yes, indeed," said 
 Ben, cheerfully, "and that's a good sign!" If that's 
 their idea of encouraging the fat sick excuse me! 
 
 Oh, Twiney, that drive was such a failure! I have 
 been singing ' ' Willow, tit- willow " ever since. 
 
 But I'm recovered this lovely morning, and looking 
 forward to my call from Mrs. Dexter. 
 
 Ellen has just got home from Newport. 
 
 She says that dinners of a hundred and twenty peo- 
 ple are now the fashion shade of Lord Chesterfield, 
 what would you say to that? and it is bad form to 
 speak of your cook as "she." It is either "him" or 
 " they," so I now say that "they have over-boiled my 
 egg or possibly dropped it among them. 
 
 Other news there is none except that pussy is her 
 " Gammardge's only comfort," and that I had a letter 
 from Mrs. Bell, which of course had been missent to 
 Winchester, perhaps because the M and A were partic- 
 ularly plain.
 
 Aet. 28 247 
 
 Go on having a beautiful time, but don't forget there's 
 one who loves you fond, and that's 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Monday Eve, 
 
 September 20. 
 My dearest, dear Tweeby, 
 
 It is a rainy afternoon and Mrs. Whitman has just 
 ridden off on her broomstick, leaving the world to Gam- 
 mardge and to me. Shall I omit Sans-Gene, who, see- 
 ing my table spread over me, has crouched down on my 
 knees, purring loudly. She thinks she has been 'vited, 
 poor lamb. 
 
 I suppose you saw in the last number of our favorite 
 sheet a final letter on the subject of " Squirrel-cide." 
 Luckily for Kitty, the words "No more of this Ed 
 Spec " appeared below, or we should see her name 
 appearing unfavorably in print, for yesterday she 
 brought a poor little red squirrel corpse to my door, 
 and as pleased with herself as possible, the little 
 wretch! 
 
 We got two dear, scrabbly letters from you today and 
 you speak of Thursday, but don't hurry off on our 
 account, for we are doing nicely. 
 
 Of course, as I politely tell Momb, existence without 
 you is a world without a sun. But Nansen, I believe, 
 managed very well by lighting up the Fram and invent- 
 ing lots of work and play. It was only Kane's dogs 
 that went mad in the hold. "Mad as hatters," I hear 
 you say, " in a darkness that could be felt."
 
 248 1897 
 
 I am so glad Professor James did come, but after 
 meeting all the worthies in the Elysian Fields will you 
 be content to return to a work-a-day world and the 
 striped arms of a Pusstress? There will be two human 
 
 pairs beside. 
 
 Your own 
 
 NANNY. 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 Thursday Eve, 
 
 October 8. 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 To begin with business: Paulina wants me to tell you 
 she shan't be able to get to Waltham this week till Sun- 
 day afternoon as she has promised to take supper at the 
 Higginsons on Saturday to meet those distinguished 
 strangers, Mr. and Miss Hooper. Now that we have 
 seen Ellen her absence seems like a dream and how 
 dearly natural she looks. I can't tell you how much 
 we enjoyed our glimpse of George, and I hope it is the 
 beginning of many, tho' I know how full to overflow- 
 ing his life is, as well as Lily's, of interests and occu- 
 pations. It is to you, dear Linka, we chiefly look to 
 keep a wide enough margin for all the foolish, running 
 comments we like to make along the real, serious, 
 printed matter of life, so to speak. As one grows 
 older one more and more divides one's de*ar friends into 
 those one likes to see, and those one needs, and you and 
 Lily have become a necessity of our lives. So take 
 great care of your dear self and be able to come often
 
 Aet. 28 249 
 
 to see me, for I am hungry for a sight of you. The 
 thought of how many miles nearer we shall be to Wal- 
 tham reconciles us to the thought of leaving this beau- 
 tiful out-of-door life so soon. 
 
 Do you remember how, in the notes to the Koumanian 
 Folk Songs, it tells how the young women there each 
 have one intimate friend who is called her ' ( little sister 
 of the cross " ? Isn't it a sweet name for so sacred a 
 
 tie? 
 
 Your loving 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Monday Morn. 
 My precious Hawk, 
 
 This is just to say that the household is getting along 
 as well as it can away from the protecting shadow of 
 your ebon wing. 
 
 Do you suppose the person in Browning who said, " So 
 I shall see her in three days and just one night, but 
 nights are short," was a forlorn young woman whose 
 sister had gone on a visit to the suburbs? 
 
 Kitty has just meowed at one of Mamma's sneezes and 
 had to be comforted. That is my chief bit of news 
 or mews. 
 
 For the rest, it was Miss Mason, rather than her fat 
 cousin, who came yesterday afternoon, and I missed 
 Fanny. Mamma was kept all day on a strict diet of 
 the "Jewish Church" and Robertson, with Habakkuk 
 for a treat, but then he, you know, is " capable de tout." 
 
 Kiss Ellen for me and then get her to kiss you from 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY.
 
 250 1897 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [Nov. 12.] 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 When we saw the snow this morning we thought at 
 once "and now our Linka won't be able to come in," 
 and we howled with the wind. 
 
 Your roses are close beside me, but I long to kiss the 
 sender and have her blessing on the year to come a 
 year made brighter by the thought of her friendship. 
 
 I came down to tea Wednesday and my little party 
 was a great success. Elinor didn't drop in till it was 
 all over indeed, I knew she wouldn't feel like coming 
 but the other nine assembled with great promptness, 
 beginning with Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Lodge, and ending 
 with Mr. Higginson. The trouble was, it was all stars 
 and no sky. 
 
 Yesterday I lay still, so don't look severe, my Red 
 Queen, but go on loving 
 
 Your social and aged 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 [Nov.] 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 Lily's roses are on my table and the old room itself 
 seems to blossom with the memory of the happy sight 
 of her with her lover. 
 
 Till I saw him I didn't think any one could be good 
 enough for Lily, but my heart went out to him more 
 and more, and now I think of them together one 
 incomplete without the other. 
 
 Lily has entered into this experience so sweetly and
 
 Aet. 29 251 
 
 solemnly that the light shines through her on to us. 
 The whole world seems brighter. 
 
 It is as if we had all tasted of the great cup of joy 
 which God put first into her hands, and you most 
 deeply of all, my darling. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Monday. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 [Christmas.] 
 My dearest old Elinor, 
 
 I can't let Christmas come and go without its bring- 
 ing a word of love from me to you. 
 
 I know all the sad and lonely thoughts that will come 
 crowding round this first Christmas ' ' when the strong 
 voice is silent and the dear face gone," but the saddest 
 days are not always the hardest days to bear, and the 
 day itself brings much of joy with it. 
 
 And friendship means so much means more and 
 more as the years go by. 
 
 Yours does to me, I know. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 My own darling, 
 
 My thoughts will be with you and yours tomorrow, 
 but I know that amidst all the sadness of this first 
 Christmas without the sunshine of her visible presence 
 the day itself brings its own deep joy with it throb- 
 bing up like the color from a jewel's heart.
 
 252 1897 
 
 On Christmas morning we must all feel a little as the 
 Shepherds felt when the sky opened and the angels 
 sang our angels bidding us rejoice with them that 
 Heaven is drawing so close to the dear old earth. 
 
 The veil 
 
 Is lifting, and the voices of the day 
 Are heard across the voices of the dark. 
 
 Yours in joy and sorrow, 
 
 ALICE. 
 Christmas Eve.
 
 Aet. 29 253 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Hope, the paramount duty that Heaven lays, 
 For its own honour, on man's suffering heart. 
 
 March 9. 
 
 " Now, " says one of the Friends of God, "notwith- 
 standing all the gifts and enlightenment that God be- 
 stowed on me there was yet a secret spot in my soul; 
 and it was that when I looked upon my fellow-men I 
 esteemed them as they were in this present time and 
 stood before God in their sins, and this was a hidden 
 spot, for I ought, through grace, to have regarded them 
 not as they now were, but as they might well become. 
 . . . Oh, thou poor, miserable creature, how strange 
 thou art! . . . How darest thou, then, to esteem ac- 
 cording to what he now is thy fellow-man, who is 
 made in the image of God, and whom Christ has made 
 His brother in his human nature, and not rather de- 
 cree that God may make of him a comely and excellent 
 garden wherein He Himself may dwell." 
 
 It is good for us to be on the Mount, but only on 
 the condition that when we have ' ' looked upon the 
 glory " we descend to take our part in the conflicts and 
 sorrows of common life. 
 
 The Jews have a beautiful thought, that an angel 
 only lives while he serves. 
 
 There is an exceeding bitter myrrh which God gives, 
 namely, inward assaults and inward darkness. When 
 a man is willing to taste this myrrh and does not put it 
 from him it wears down flesh and blood, yea, the 
 whole nature, for God appoints unto His servants
 
 254 1898 
 
 cruel fightings, and strange dread, and unheard-of dis- 
 tresses, which none can understand but he who has felt 
 them, and these men are beset with such a variety of 
 difficulties, so many cups of bitterness are presented 
 to them, that they hardly know which way to turn or 
 what they ought to do. But God knows right well 
 what He is about. 
 
 But when the cup is put away and these feelings are 
 stifled a greater injury is done the soul than can ever be 
 amended. For no heart can conceive in what surpassing 
 love God gives us this myrrh, yet this which we ought 
 to receive to our soul's good we suffer to pass by us in 
 our sleepy indifference and nothing comes of it. Then 
 we come to complain, "Alas, Lord! I am so dry, and it 
 is so dark within me! " I tell you, dear child, open thy 
 heart to the pain and it will do thee more good than if 
 thou wert full of feeling and devoutness. TAULER. 
 
 "Dear Lord and Bridegroom, appoint unto me what 
 Thou will. I am willing to suffer all things with Thy 
 help and in Thy love." When the Bridegroom heareth 
 this He loveth the Bride yet better than He did before 
 and giveth her to drink of a still better cup. This cup 
 is that she is to cease from all her own thoughts for she 
 can take pleasure in nothing that is her own. TAULER. 
 
 The measure with which we shall be measured is the 
 faculty of love in the Soul the will of a man by 
 this shall all his words and works be measured. 
 
 ST. MICHAEL'S AND ALL ANGELS'. 
 
 Amid a world of forgetf ulness and dreary in the sight 
 of his own shortcomings and limitations, or on the edge
 
 Aet. 29 255 
 
 of the tomb; he alone who has found his soul in losing 
 it, who in singleness of mind lived in order to love and 
 understand, will find that the God who is near to his 
 conscience has a face of light and love. T. H. GREEN. 
 
 For consolation's sources deeper are 
 
 Than sorrows deepest. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 We live by admiration, hope and love.
 
 256 1898 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 Darling, 
 
 I can't let our great Saint's Day go by without a word 
 of love to you. 
 
 As this season comes round the years seem to fade 
 away and we are again standing on the Mount of Vision 
 only with a surer sense of God's power to fill our lone- 
 liness with His light. 
 
 And five years ago this week your mother came to 
 me and I felt her loving arms round me and the beat- 
 ing of that strong and tender heart which was never to 
 fail me any more. 
 
 If I could love you better than I do, dearest, it would 
 be out of daily gratitude for all she was and is to me. 
 
 Ever thine 
 
 ALICE. 
 January 23rd, 1898. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I am keeping these few days very quietly and peace- 
 fully, but I had a little faint hope that, you would come 
 today. Perhaps you could Wednesday morning, but 
 promise not to if you ought to stay at home. My 
 thoughts are with you all. I know yesterday did not 
 pass without its bringing its own sunshine with it to 
 light us on our way and to give a meaning and a colour 
 to the year. 
 
 These sad and sacred days, so full of memories and 
 hope, cannot but be times of deep joy and refreshment 
 to us all.
 
 Aet. 29 257 
 
 Time seems so little as one looks back, does it not, 
 and God's power to help and comfort us so great? 
 
 All which I took from thee I did but take 
 
 Not for thy harms 
 But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms. 
 
 All which thy child's mistake 
 Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home. 
 Rise, clasp my hand, and come. 
 
 Give my tenderest sympathy to your mother, and 
 believe me, 
 
 Always yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 Monday, January 24th, 1898. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 Sunday Morning, 
 
 February 13. 
 Dearest Elinor, 
 
 Isn't it delightful to see the blue sky again after 
 this long, sad week? Paulina hasn't been allowed to see 
 Ethel yet, whose wound is healing well, but very, very 
 slowly, while Lily begins to look quite white, after the 
 long strain, and with all her wedding preparations 
 before her. . 
 
 Mrs. William Brooks is so feeble and poorly that they 
 have finally got a trained nurse for her, and Mrs. Whit- 
 man has been in great trouble all the week over Mrs. 
 Lockwood's illness and death. 
 
 But what has wrung my heart most has been Mr. 
 Balch's death, and the light gone out of another home. 
 He was a perfect saint upon earth, you know, and I 
 have been able to think of nothing but those poor girls,
 
 258 1898 
 
 and especially Bessie, who was coming to see me that 
 very day, and who, I feared, was in no condition to 
 bear such a shock, but I have had a brave, sweet letter 
 from her, full of joy for him and peace and comfort for 
 themselves. 
 
 I hope your mother is doing bravely, and it must be 
 a comfort for her to have the world shut out and her 
 sacred days so still. I think of you all so much, but I 
 cannot think of you without your father, and I am sure 
 you are to be together in the future, as you have been 
 in the past, and as you must be, in some real sense, 
 
 even now. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 March 9th. 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 Did you ever see this little poem of Tennyson's, which 
 I thought would speak to you today, at the close of one 
 year and the beginning of another, in which we hope 
 that those whose visible presence has gone out from 
 among us may be nearer and nearer to us in the spirit? 
 
 I could not help thinking, this morning, of that verse 
 in "In Memoriam," 
 
 Come not in watches of the night, 
 But where the sunbeam broodeth warm ; 
 Come, beauteous in thine after form, 
 And like a finer light in light. 
 
 In the inner sanctuary of our lives, where we turn in 
 the deepest moments of joy and sorrow and bewilder- 
 ment, certain great figures seem to stand " to bear wit- 
 ness of that light," like beautiful windows full of the
 
 Aet. 29 259 
 
 rich colors of their own personality, and filling our gray 
 lives with new glow and radiance. 
 
 Mine seems very full today. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MR. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 [May 19.] 
 My dear Mr. Paine, 
 
 The wedding roses that you sent me are only another 
 sweet link in the long chain that binds our households 
 together. You know how our hearts ached and re- 
 joiced with you yesterday. It was all so solemn and 
 beautiful, and Lily's face was so full of peace, that 
 who could but feel that at such a moment, and in that 
 place, her mother and Mr. Brooks must be very near 
 her? 
 
 Few can carry into the new life the memory of a past 
 
 so rich in blessings. 
 
 Yours in true sympathy, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Ascension Day. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 16th. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 And, after all, you never wrote the " long letter full 
 of plans" you promised me and I have let all these 
 weeks slip by in silence not f orgetfulness. All our 
 hearts, I think, have been with the soldiers, and now, 
 even with this much-longed-for Peace really come, our 
 rejoicing is all blurred with the thought of their unnec- 
 essary suffering this wanton waste of precious life.
 
 260 1898 
 
 Bessie Foster was with us those first terrible weeks of 
 July reading the papers aloud to me and working for 
 the ' ' Volunteer Aid " with Paulina, and we who had 
 no one near and dear at the front learned a little what 
 war must mean to those with loved ones in the midst 
 of it, and for years instead of days. I hope you think 
 as I do, that this was a righteous war, undertaken by 
 the Nation as a whole, for humanitarian reasons? No 
 one could doubt, could they, that it has been all bright 
 with heroism and chivalrous treatment of the foe? If 
 only we make a peace worthy of it! As for the Porto 
 Rican campaign, it has been painfully like a comic 
 opera after the tragedy of Santiago. Ponce yielded to 
 Mrs. Lodge's brother's ship, on which our friend Bay 
 Lodge commands two guns. Constance's husband is on 
 General Wilson's staff, but poor Harry Curtis never got 
 further than Tampa, and an old great-aunt's husband 
 of ours, who was made a Brigadier General of Artillery, 
 never got beyond the inglorious drill of Chickamauga. 
 
 But to leave these national themes. About the mid- 
 dle of July I fell ill from too much excitement and am 
 just beginning to pick up again. That is why I haven't 
 written earlier. 
 
 And now, dear, how are you and where are you? 
 
 Of course we must have a regular day of meeting 
 next winter, if it is only every fortnight. 
 
 Mamma and Paulina are well, and my uncle, who lives 
 with us, and the pets who make so large a part of our 
 very quiet lives. 
 
 Dickson's large small-family is in Pittsfield, so that 
 he spends his week-days with us, or as much of them 
 as he can tear away from the new house he is build- 
 ing in Cambridge.
 
 Aet. 29 261 
 
 Have you seen Mrs. Whitman's window at Memorial 
 Hall, and how do you like it? 
 
 Please remember me to Emily. I think of you all 
 often. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 October 27th, 1898. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 That * ' number 200 " on this envelope makes me feel 
 a little as if I were addressing the hero of one of Rud- 
 yard Kipling's novels, but I trust it is all right. 
 
 Well, here we are safely at Home (with a big H) 
 and feel as if the two weeks we had been here were 
 years instead, and I wish you could see my pretty new- 
 old room with its new paint, and green paper, and its 
 chairs and curtains all covered with big, old-fashioned 
 red and blue peonies to go with my carved bed. It was 
 a surprise from Mamma and Paulina and Mrs. Whit- 
 man and I feel as if a fairy godmother's wand had 
 turned my pumpkin into a beautiful new coach and yet 
 left, shining thro' all, the shape and associations of the 
 dear old familiar vegetable. I have been seeing lots of 
 my friends Bessie Foster again before she sailed, and 
 people who have moved to town, and those whom we 
 catch on the wing and laugh at because they are still 
 country mice if mice are ever are on the wing. 
 ' ' Where Rob Roy sets there is the head of the table, " 
 and when we are in Boston we feel that winter is 
 begun.
 
 262 1898 
 
 Mrs. Bell came in last Saturday, and they are so 
 pleased with French's statue of their father (tho' she 
 says one can never feel intimate with a bronze statue), 
 and still more with Joe Choate's speech at ' ' the unveil- 
 ing " at the Court House last week. Paulina went with 
 Mr. Higginson and as Uncle Melville and thought 
 it a very fine speech, charmingly delivered. After- 
 wards Mr. Higginson introduced her to Mr. Choate. 
 
 But a foreign stamp is worse than a sonnet for cramp- 
 ing one's poetical flow of inspiration and I want to ask 
 you all about yourself and the voyage and your new 
 world. 
 
 I can't tell you how nice it was to see you again and 
 to see you taking up the burden of life once more with 
 so brave and hopeful a heart. 
 
 Always most affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 30 263 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Despair is the sin against the Holy Ghost. LUTHER. 
 
 But if all who may count themselves happy were to 
 tell very simply what it was that brought happiness to 
 them, the others would see that between sorrow and joy 
 the difference is but as between a gladsome, enlightened 
 acceptance of life and a hostile, gloomy submission. 
 
 MAETERLINCK. 
 
 September. 
 
 Who can so exalt himself as to comprehend this one 
 line of St. Peter's: "Rejoice inasmuch as ye are par- 
 takers of Christ's suffering." 
 
 In Paradise there will be little dogs with golden hair 
 shining like precious stones. The foliage of the trees 
 and the verdure of the grass will have the brilliancy of 
 emeralds, and we ourselves shall have the same friends 
 as here but infinitely more perfect. MARTIN LUTHER. 
 
 Blessed are the valiant that have lived in the Lord. 
 Amen, said the Spirit. CARLYLE'S " Cromwell." 
 
 Woe unto him that is faint hearted, for he believeth 
 
 not. ECCLESIASTES, til, 13.
 
 264: 1899 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 Sunday, January 1, 1899. 
 
 Well, dear Bessie, a very happy New Year to you 
 first in Japan and then at home and I trust it isn't 
 too late to hope that all Christmas joys were yours. 
 
 We had Dickson's children to their tree and our 
 family dinner on Saturday, so that we had a beautiful, 
 quiet Christmas Day all to ourselves. I sometimes 
 think that all the little happiness of Christmas the 
 excitement of presents and all the kind thoughts of 
 friends, and the meetings and pretty customs, hide 
 from us the deep joy of the day itself. ' ' The Word 
 became flesh that foundation of endless hope stands 
 fast and we can stay our souls upon it." 
 
 So the All-Great were the All-Loving too. 
 
 So, through the thunder, sounds a human voice. 
 
 How one's heart turns to one's Browning on these 
 great days our modern David. Don't you feel the 
 devout Jew in him throbbing to his very finger tips? 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To Miss ELLEN S. HOOPER. 
 
 Dearest Ellen, 
 
 Your lilies brought their own Easter message with 
 them. 
 
 On these great days we seem to go up, as Moses did, 
 into Mount Pisgah, and from the heights the desert be-
 
 Aet. 30 265 
 
 hind us seems very short, and the Land of Promise very 
 near, and the same sky over both. 
 
 Memory is "not burden, but wings!" And you, 
 darling, who have served me so richly with your love 
 and sympathy these sad six years, I keep you always 
 in my heart of hearts. 
 
 I wish you had known him some day you will, 
 
 please God. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 NANNY. 
 January 24th, 1899. 
 
 To MRS. WILLIAM G. BROOKS. 
 
 January 25th, 1899. 
 Dearest Mrs. Brooks, 
 
 I am afraid these days find you very sad and ill and 
 anxious with strength little up to the new burdens 
 and cares laid upon you. 
 
 How dare I make light of such troubles, or bid you, 
 who bear them so sweetly, take courage? 
 
 And yet I know that there is an especial message of 
 hope for us all to bear to one another now that our Mr. 
 Greatheart has left us. " And if at any time you see 
 my children faint speak comfortably to them." 
 
 Yet how feeble our voices would sound if there was 
 not behind them the Divine blessing for those who 
 mourn and who are weary and heavy-laden. 
 
 When our own hearts are bruised and aching we can 
 sometimes best feel the deep joy at the heart of things 
 and understand that it is indeed those that walk in 
 darkness who have seen a great light, and they that 
 dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them 
 hath the light shined.
 
 266 1899 
 
 On these great days we feel that "The veil is rending 
 and the voices of the dawn are heard across the voices 
 of the dark." 
 
 And Monday, with all its crowding memories, must 
 have been a day of refreshment to you all a day to 
 drink great draughts of hope and inspiration. 
 
 Such a joy as your household has had can never be a 
 past joy it must come welling up in your hearts when 
 the outer circumstances of life seem darkest. 
 
 You must be sure that that constant love still enfolds 
 you and that from " the quiet shore " he feels for you 
 the " painless sympathy with pain." 
 
 If, with his death, not only the great spiritual master 
 and guide went out from among you the tender friend 
 but the central pillar of your household life, how 
 great a privilege yours is to sorrow so nearly and so 
 deeply. 
 
 What lives can be unhappy with such a memory; 
 with such a hope? 
 
 ' ' Behold, I send an Angel before thee to keep thee in 
 the way and to bring thee into the place which I have 
 prepared." 
 
 The Grod of all comfort make His face to shine upon 
 you now and forever. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 Feb. 4th. 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 I want to at least begin my letter to you this morning 
 to tell you that my thoughts are with you on your 
 Saint's Day. I don't know how you feel about anni-
 
 Aet. 30 267 
 
 versaries, but to me they shine out among all the level 
 days of the prosaic year like mountain tops, where one 
 looks out into the Promised Land and breathes a finer 
 air. The future and the past seem to clasp hands, and 
 memory is "not burden, but wings." 
 
 As Mrs. Whitman wrote me a few weeks since, * ( On 
 these great days we seem to have a new window 
 toward Jerusalem, " and so I hope today will have been 
 to you a day of deep joy and refreshment of real 
 home so far away. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Wednesday, Ten o'clock. 
 
 Well, my Precious Bird, you need not think you are 
 the only traveller, for have I not come all the way from 
 the back to the front room where Sans-Gene has been 
 doing the honours to me and the Judge with " this is 
 my bed," and " this is my window and my snowstorm," 
 and " this my mantelpiece race course." 
 
 And by the way, how about this snowstorm? Did 
 you rush straight into it, and were you much delayed? 
 We hope for your Philadelphia letter in the next mail 
 and shall be glad enough when the "all sofa comes to 
 the all bed " a sort of modern reading of Birnam wood 
 coming to Dunsinane. 
 
 The coal you see the connection must have 
 reached the Cardarellis, for no Eugene turned up, and 
 the Zenana funds this morning have again reached 
 the magnificent sum of three dollars. 
 
 Here is a key, found between the rooms and probably 
 dropped from the key-basket, but Mamma and I send
 
 268 1899 
 
 it on the millionth chance that it may belong to your 
 jewel-box. Otherwise, think of it as the key to your 
 Kutzly's heart. 
 
 She smelt all over your bed with great care this early 
 morning and had a crying bout for "Aunt T." after 
 breakfast. 
 
 One characteristic conversation I must tell you before 
 I stop to eat my second breakfast. 
 
 Said I to Gamdge, " Will you get me some valen- 
 tines? " 
 
 Said she to me, " What kind? Of course you don't 
 want any love in them." 
 
 Fancy such a valentine! 
 
 It's as bad as an "Expurgated Mrs. Hemans," or as 
 a Unitarian Hymn. 
 
 I have no such scruples and sign myself your Valen- 
 tine, with a real little heart skewered through with a 
 sort of heat-lightning dart of affection. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 February 14th. 
 
 With two men on the shed shoveling snow as high as 
 their waists. 
 
 Well, dearest T., there is plenty of bridal white about 
 today if the poor little birds have the heart to mate. 
 The Judge has begun to sing. He says he " feels the 
 ichor of Spring in his veins " which is more than the 
 rest of us do. Yesterday I began to get quite desperate 
 and felt like the Yankee Uncle Melly overheard say- 
 ing, "I wanted to turn my face to the wall and let it 
 snow."
 
 Aet. 30 269 
 
 Mrs. Dexter and Ellen watched me over their tea and 
 wondered I was ever depressed by mere weather. As I 
 tell Momb, I am supposed to be made of cast-iron, with 
 no sentiments, but I'm tired of the cold and I want my 
 Twiney. To which she replied, with her usual sym- 
 pathy, that your being here would not change the tem- 
 perature. She little knows! I could bear it better if 
 you had been in decent warmth yourself, but Mr. 
 McKinley's prophecy seems to be literally true, " There 
 is no more any South." 
 
 Nothing later than your Saturday letter has reached 
 us so we have to fancy what distinguished men, famous 
 and infamous, you are meeting. 
 
 Mrs. Dexter finds our house very warm and restful 
 and is the cosiest of guests. We should hardly know 
 she was here, which is the highest of compliments. 
 The last time she called on Mrs. Tyson she found her 
 massaging her flying-squirrel. Isn't that dear? And 
 speaking of the insane and their pets, I must tell you 
 how Uncle Dickson and Kitty lush together. He puts 
 his head down on the floor and she rubs purring against 
 it. They call it "electric sparking Sunday nights." 
 
 Little Nancy is full of her approaching birthday. 
 She said, " Is I to have my friends to my party? Who 
 is my friends? " 
 
 I'm saving you Dr. Huntington on Christian Unity 
 and only wish I had something equally long on your 
 two other favorite topics, Socialism and Prohibition. 
 
 Your bigoted, money-loving, intemperate 
 
 AUNTIE NAN.
 
 270 1899 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Thursday Morn. 
 Darling T., 
 
 When they knocked at the bathroom door this morn- 
 ing to ask what I would have for breakfast I called 
 out, "Toast and milk and a grape fruit and lots 
 of letters from Miss Paulina," and sure enough there 
 were two on my tray to open the day cheerfully for us 
 the ones written Monday and Tuesday from Wash- 
 ington. I wept at the thought of your naval dinner 
 party having died of the cold. Is a sailor kept at bay 
 by mere snowdrifts? Admiral Beaumont wouldn't be, 
 even though Grandmother Nares, in cap and specta- 
 cles, cried out distractedly, * < Come back, my precious 
 
 child." 
 
 
 
 Yesterday at five I stayed abed and attired in Ethel's 
 nightgown and Ellen's coat * had the dearest dolls' tea- 
 party for my little Owl-friend. Mrs. Bell and Mrs. 
 Pratt who stayed for a comfortable hour and a half, 
 and Mrs. Whitman who flew in unexpectedly on her 
 broomstick, which had been harnessed to take her 
 to three Radcliffe committees before the cock crew 
 to disperse her. I'm beginning to be pretty desperate 
 for the sound of your wings upon the stair even 
 for your croak telling me to write no more, but to eat 
 my second breakfast. I obey. Sansge sends you a 
 whiskery kiss. 
 
 Your 
 NANNY.
 
 Aet. 30 271 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 February 27th. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 I have put down the few things that turned up in 
 our little talk Thursday. I wish we could do more to 
 help you in your work. The little sayings one remem- 
 bers seem but crumbs to have brought away from such 
 a feast and I suppose it will be years before one hears 
 of even a small part of those he helped who had no claim 
 on him except that of need. I always feel as if he 
 had described himself in that sermon on " the Safety 
 and Helpfulness of Faith " in the passage ending with 
 "Friends bring their friends into the presence of these 
 healing lives as of old the men of Jerusalem brought 
 forth the sick into the streets and laid them on beds and 
 couches that at least the shadow of Peter passing by 
 might overshadow some of them." 
 
 I have one friend, who never heard him preach, to 
 whom his sermons were life in a time of great darkness 
 and I have another friend who, a firm believer in 
 another creed and church, in the perplexity and grief 
 of her life went to Mr. Brooks. There must be thou- 
 sands and thousands of such cases. Our Catholic dress- 
 maker used to go to hear him preach, and three of our 
 servants have said to me, "We Catholics all loved Mr. 
 Brooks," just as the young Catholic priest told Anson 
 Stokes that they considered him one of themselves. 
 
 I was much struck, after what you told us of the 
 Philadelphia sermons, at coming across (on pages 17 and 
 18 of the Lectures on Preaching) what I suppose would 
 be his own criticism of that earlier manner.
 
 272 1899 
 
 His growing love of clearness of expression and sim- 
 plicity of thought accounted for his preference for 
 Tennyson over Browning much as he loved the latter. 
 And how like, by the way, his "I shall be musical in 
 heaven " is to Browning's " Other heights in other lives, 
 God willing." 
 
 I wonder if his family have dwelt enough to you on 
 his love of the past with all its associations, tho' no one 
 could read his sermons without feeling it the Stone 
 of Shechem especially. He told my sister that he had 
 found put carefully away the flowers he had got from 
 the tree on his Class-Day and I remember his saying 
 here once that he wished a man's house could be burned 
 when he died. It was so painful to see strangers in the 
 familiar rooms. 
 
 Of course you knew that he slept on his mother's bed 
 the bed on which he was born. After her death he 
 told Mamma how much he longed to have her speak to 
 him once again "as a mother." 
 
 Since you were here I have thought of two remarks 
 of his which I thought might interest you one to my 
 sister about some Church Congress, "People will dis- 
 cover how imbecile we are and abolish us. They the 
 speakers tow all great subjects out to sea and then 
 escape in small boats thro' the fog;" and then when 
 he was here at five o'clock tea one afternoon and tho' 
 he didn't like tea he drank it as "a symbol of friend- 
 ship" he got laughing over the fact that when the 
 news of the great fire in Chicago was brought to the 
 Church Congress ' ' they read the Litany, which contains 
 every supplication excepfthat for a city in flames." 
 
 I have always heard that he replied to a man who 
 said, "I can't believe the whale could have swallowed
 
 Aet. 30 273 
 
 Jonah," " He was only a Minor Prophet," but it may 
 be apocryphal. 
 
 That under what you call the "natural gladness" 
 there was a deep strain of sadness I can well believe. 
 As he says himself in one of his favorite jewel-similes 
 "the sun touches a diamond and the diamond almost 
 chills itself as it sends out in radiance on every side 
 the light that has fallen on it," but I am sure that the 
 dominant note of the life was joy. Like his favorite 
 Pippa he went thro' all the scenes of sin and sorrow 
 with the ' ' God's in His Heaven, All's right with the 
 world." 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 His pleasure during his last illness in the red rose 
 sent him by Mrs. Whitman his having its place 
 changed and watching it in the new light. 
 
 His love of jewels. 
 
 On some one's speaking of those who died with all 
 their music in them: "But what poor creatures we 
 should be if we died with all our music out of us." 
 
 To the paralytic young man who used to come to 
 Trinity in a wheeled chair: "I preach sermons you 
 live them." 
 
 Dr. Whittemore's saying that now he could face death. 
 (I have written to find this out more exactly.)
 
 274 1899 
 
 The man dying of consumption out of town who said 
 to his wife that the one person he would like to see was 
 Mr. Brooks, only they had no claim upon him, and her 
 going to him, and his coming to her husband once a 
 week till his death. 
 
 A woman told our dentist that she could not be sure 
 of her next appointment as she had a dying friend 
 whose death would be hastened by Mr. Brooks's. He 
 had been so much to her. When she next came her 
 friend had died "holding his photograph." 
 
 A Mrs. of Brimmer Street, when her child was 
 
 taken ill of diphtheria, sent for Mr. Brooks merely be- 
 cause she had known his mother; and he did everything 
 for them. 
 
 His saying, "I shall be musical in heaven;" and after 
 getting some one to play him something in the major 
 and in the minor key, "I see! The minor sounds sort 
 of 'sat on.'" 
 
 Mr. Hooper's aunt, who lived next them when 
 they were boys, overheard his mother expostulating, 
 "Phillips, I can't have so much noise on Sunday." 
 
 On one of the Paine's saying that the face of some 
 St. John was too sad: "No," he replied, "how could 
 the apostle of Love be anything but sad-hearted in this 
 world?"
 
 Aet. 30 275 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 BOSTON, March 4th and 5th. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 The doctor has put me on short rations of friends 
 for some time to come and this week has cut me 
 off entirely, but that mustn't prevent my beginning 
 my little monthly chat with you across the lands and 
 seas. 
 
 Here life wags gently on like Hamlet's tail. Mrs. 
 Bell, when I saw her last, was so thrilled over the 
 Browning love-letters that she wouldn't go to the open- 
 ing night of the Sargent pictures. She says, to her 
 surprise, her letters are charming, but his! "She 
 must have married to avoid the postman. It was like 
 getting every morning, ' Sordello, with my love.' ' 
 
 By the way, New Yorkers are in a great rage because 
 Sargent says Boston is the only city in the United 
 States where he would consent to exhibit!! 
 
 Mrs. Whitman, a month ago, came near having a 
 very serious accident. A tall chest of drawers in her 
 studio tottered and fell. She jumped from under it, but 
 it struck one foot, which was seriously bruised. She is 
 beginning to hop about again, with a stool to rest it on 
 when she stops hopping, and it will be a long time be- 
 fore it is quite well. Think of our Infanta of Spain tied 
 by the leg!! She who always got about on wings. 
 
 The early part of this week every one hung breath- 
 lessly on the bulletins from Eudyard Kipling's sickroom, 
 and there was a great sigh of relief when the papers 
 posted up, "Kipling and the Pope better"!! As Joe
 
 276 1899 
 
 Lee says, we none of us realized till then how much we 
 
 cared for him. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 March 7th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I am sending you a passage from one of Martineau's 
 letters, written shortly after his wife's death, in case 
 you have not seen it. 
 
 I have you especially in my heart today and know that 
 your thoughts are at home and very full of the sacred 
 past. 
 
 Saturday is the anniversary of Mrs. Paine's death and 
 it was very sweet to have both Ethel and Lily here this 
 morning at the Holy Communion. 
 
 When we praise God on this side it is easy to feel 
 that it is with " all the company of Heaven," but the 
 world shadows and the self shadows close over us again, 
 don't they? 
 
 Lovingly yours, 
 
 ALICE, 
 
 A blessing so prolonged I cannot be so faithless as to 
 turn from gratitude into complaint. 
 
 If I step into a darkened path I carry with me a 
 blessed light of memory which gives at least a gloam- 
 ing, though the sun is set, and promises a dawn when 
 the night is gone. 
 
 The short vigil will soon be over and while it lasts 
 neither the departed nor the lingerer can quit the keep- 
 ing of the everlasting love. JAMES MARTINEAU.
 
 Aet. 30 277 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 March 15th. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Your account of young Mr. Noble reminded me of a 
 passage in one of Mr. Brooks's sermons, " Once or twice 
 in our lives we have stood by the grave-sides of young 
 men which were too solemn for regret. We complain 
 that life is short. It is not time you want, but fire. The 
 cloud lies on the mountain-top all day and leaves it at 
 last just as it found it in the morning, only wet and 
 cold. The lightning touches the mountain for an in- 
 stant and the very rocks are melted and the whole 
 shape of the great mass is changed. Who would not 
 cry out to God: Oh, make my life how short I care not 
 so that it can have the fire in it for an hour! If only it 
 can have intensity! Let it but touch the tumult of this 
 world for an instant. Then let it go and leave its power 
 behind." 
 
 I wonder if you know that unauthorized volume of 
 sermons called " The Spiritual Man," and published in 
 England after Mr. Brooks's death? Some of them are 
 the most meagre of notes only, but others have beauti- 
 ful passages and thoughts. 
 
 Ethel and Paulina hope to call on you Saturday, soon 
 after three o'clock, unless they hear that that is not a 
 good afternoon, and I will send* by them the ' ' Attic 
 Philosopher " and Mr. Brooks's little dialogue, both of 
 which I read last week. The latter is very slight, of 
 course, but very characteristic, too, isn't it? with his 
 favorite quotations from Tennyson and thoughts which 
 grew and expanded into sermons later.
 
 278 1899 
 
 I am constantly re-reading Robertson's sermons, but 
 magnificent as they are, I always turn from their stern 
 sadness to Mr. Brooks's written words as one would go 
 from a gray fortress out into the bright sunlight. Per- 
 haps it is because I see and hear him behind the printed 
 page, but it seems to me that the words shine with his 
 personality: 
 
 Who never turned his back, but marched breast forward, 
 Never doubted clouds would break ; 
 Never dreamt, tho' right were worsted, 
 
 Wrong would triumph ; 
 
 Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
 Sleep to wake. 
 
 I have far exceeded the space I had allowed myself 
 and, I am afraid, your patience, but I must not close 
 without telling you how very proud and happy it would 
 make me to help you in any way in the Biography in 
 any way in which I could be of most use. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON STREET, 
 
 March 23-28th, 1899. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Here is a note from the Rev. telling that bit of 
 
 conversation I half remembered the other day, but it 
 sounds to me stiff and uncharacteristic, as if it had fil- 
 tered through another mind. The passage in the ser- 
 mon where Mr. Brooks speaks of the bitterness of 
 feeling of the city poor is in the Second Series, " Chris- 
 tian Charity," pages 348-354.
 
 Aet. 30 279 
 
 Mamma thinks the anecdote about the steerage was 
 told us by an acquaintance of hers who crossed with him 
 on the steamer, and I know we heard it quite directly 
 at the time. It was that last summer, during the 
 cholera scare, and the steerage passengers were kept 
 aboard while a tug came up to carry off the cabin pas- 
 sengers. Just as they set off the steerage gathered 
 together to watch them. Mr. Brooks went to the side 
 of the boat and lifted his hat to them, and bade them 
 good-bye. 
 
 He spoke to Paulina once about the painful contrast 
 one feels between the well-to-do and the steerage on 
 board ship. 
 
 Did you ever hear about some one's going into some 
 poor woman's house once and finding him in sole charge 
 of a sleeping baby, whose mother he had persuaded to 
 go out for a little walk? I have always heard it. 
 
 Miss Harmon who was at the head of the Trinity 
 Church charities for a long time, and to whom there 
 is a memorial window in the Trinity Sunday School 
 told Mamma that she used to give Mr. Brooks a list of 
 the poor women in sorrow and distress that he might 
 visit and pray with them, and that many of them used 
 to say to her afterwards, especially those whose little 
 children had died, " How can he know so well just 
 how I feel?" 
 
 It must have been this intense power of fellow-feeling 
 this sensitive openness to the wants and pains of men 
 on the one side, as well as to the great eternal truths on 
 the other, that made him stand to rich and poor alike 
 as "one that comforteth the mourners," or was it 
 through that ever-deepening communion with a Master 
 who was a Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief?
 
 280 1899 
 
 There is so much that is too sacred to be spoken of. 
 He himself speaks of the relationship between a min- 
 ister and his congregation as "one of the very highest 
 pictures of human companionship that can be seen on 
 earth, and when it is worthily realized who can say 
 that it may not stretch beyond the line of death and 
 they who have been minister and people to each other 
 here be something holy and peculiar to each other in 
 the City of God forever? " 
 
 There is a passage in his sermon on ' ' The Purpose 
 and Use of Comfort" that seems to me to describe the 
 secret of his power " Oh, when I see how few men 
 are aided by the arguments with which their friends 
 plead for their faith, compared with those to whom 
 religion becomes a clear reality from the sight of some 
 fellow-man who is evidently living with God, who car- 
 ries the life of God wherever he goes when I see how 
 the real difficulty of multitudes of bewildered men is 
 not this or that unsolved problem, but the whole 
 incapacity of comprehending God when I see this, I 
 understand how the best boon that God can give to 
 any group of men must often be to take one of them 
 and, bearing witness of Himself to him, set him to bear- 
 ing that witness of the Lord to his brethren which only 
 a man surrounded and filled with God can bear." 
 
 And those felt it most who were most conscious of the 
 need of something beyond and above their lives the 
 poor and the lonely and the sad especially. 
 
 His niece, Gertrude, told me there were constant pil- 
 grimages to his grave and little offerings of flowers left 
 there by the poor. 
 
 We told you how, on the day of his death, an old 
 farmer pulled up his horse on the Milldam and said
 
 Aet. 30 281 
 
 to Mrs. Higginson, "Have you heard that Phillips 
 Brooks is dead? " 
 
 And Dr. Donald told me that a few years ago a hard- 
 worked-looking woman called at the Clarendon Street 
 house, so poorly dressed that he thought she had come 
 to beg, and gave him sixty dollars (I think that was the 
 sum) for the Memorial in the Church. 
 
 Little children turned to him like flowers to sunshine, 
 and I think his expression when he looked down at 
 them, or held a baby in his arms, was the most tender 
 thing I ever saw. 
 
 And manhood fused with female grace * 
 In such a sort, a child would twine 
 A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine, 
 And find his comfort in thy face. 
 
 But " In Memoriam " is full of him and how fond 
 he was of it. 
 
 He used to talk to us a great deal about Tennyson 
 and about "our set " as we called them Maurice and 
 Stanley and Kingsley. I remember his saying Cole- 
 ridge was one of the most interesting and puzzling of 
 men, but Newman, "after all, his was only a second- 
 class mind." By the way, do you remember Lowell's 
 saying that Newman made the great mistake of think- 
 ing God was the Great I Was rather than the Great I 
 Am? 
 
 He laughed over the photograph in which little 
 Maurice, in an ill-fitting coat, hangs on to big Tom 
 Hughes's arm. 
 
 " No matter how spiritual a man is if his coat sleeves 
 are too long."
 
 282 1899 
 
 On hearing that Esther Maurice was accused of de- 
 stroying some of the Hare family letters: " If even more 
 had been lost to the world I think I could have forgiven 
 her." 
 
 "But why do Mediums always live at the South 
 End?" 
 
 Young man: " I am in Boston getting subscribers to 
 'The Churchman.'" 
 Mr. Brooks: " With no success, I hope." 
 
 Mamma told him that her grandfather said that 
 Bishop Bass, who was an ancestor of theirs, looked in 
 his picture like a judge who had just given a wrong 
 decision. "He is the first person," said Mr. Brooks, 
 " that found any expression whatever in Bishop Bass's 
 face." 
 
 "What high-churchmen lack is a sense of humor; " 
 and he was fond of speaking of the Advent as "that 
 new meeting house of theirs." 
 
 He said he walked across Green Park behind three 
 English bishops and was inwardly chuckling over their 
 costumes when they came to a fence. They put their 
 hands on the top and jumped over, while he meekly 
 went round, not despising the aprons so much. 
 
 We asked him if he would wear a curly -brimmed hat 
 with rosettes, and sign his letters Phillips Massachusetts. 
 He promised that the first so signed should be to me. 
 
 I remember some one saying how characteristic his 
 card was just Phillips Brooks and how eagerly he
 
 Aet. 30 283 
 
 burst out once, when we talked of a person with 
 rather affected manners: "If only people would be 
 simple." 
 
 Very reserved people I don't think he got on well with 
 he was too reserved himself, at once, and too sensi- 
 tive to atmosphere. "If they've only once expressed 
 themselves," he said. 
 
 When we told him Commodore Beaumont, who mar- 
 ried his friend, Mary Perkins, ate his meals alone aboard 
 ship with two sentries at the door, he exclaimed, " How 
 dreadful! I'd have in the cook to eat with me." He 
 loved people as people, didn't he, and always wanted 
 to "hear about folks." In one of his sermons he 
 speaks of what I know he felt about the city streets: 
 " To us those streets are sympathetic. To prosperous 
 men, full of activity, full of life, the city streets, over- 
 running with human vitality, are full of a sympathy, 
 a sense of human fellowship, a comforting companion- 
 ship, in all that mass of unknown and, as it were, 
 generic, men and women, which no utterance of special 
 friendship or pity from the best-known lips can bring. 
 The live and active man takes his trouble into the 
 crowded streets and finds it comforted by the myste- 
 rious consolation of his race. He takes his perplexity 
 out there, and its darkness grows bright in the diffused, 
 unconscious light of human life." 
 
 There is a passage in his " How to Abound " about 
 the dangers of the life full of friendship and admiration, 
 which must have come out of the heart of his own expe- 
 rience, as well as this bit from "The Sea of Glass:" 
 ' ' You may go thro' the crowded streets of Heaven, 
 asking each saint how he came there, and you will look 
 in vain everywhere for a man morally and spiritually
 
 284 1899 
 
 strong, whose strength did not come to him in struggle. 
 Will you take the man who never had a disappointment, 
 who never knew a want, whose friends all love him, 
 whose health never knew a suspicion of its perfect- 
 ness, on whom every sun shines and against whose 
 sails all winds, as if by special commission, are sent to 
 blow, and who still is great and good and true and 
 unselfish and holy, as happy in his inner as in his 
 outer life? Was there no struggle there? Do you 
 suppose that man has never wrestled with his own suc- 
 cess and happiness that he has never prayed, and 
 emphasized his prayer with labor, ' In all time of my 
 prosperity, Good Lord, deliver me! ' ' Deliver me! ' 
 that is the cry of a man in danger of a man with an 
 antagonist. For years that man and his prosperity 
 have been looking each other in the face and grappling 
 one another and that is a supremacy that was not 
 won without a struggle than which there is no harder 
 on the earth." 
 
 ' ' He who is silent before the interviewer pours out 
 the very depth of his soul to the great multitude," and, 
 as he himself says of Robertson's sermons, " It is inter- 
 esting to watch, as you often may without any sus- 
 picion of mere fancifulness, how the experience shed 
 its power into the sermon, but left its form of facts 
 outside; how his sermons were like the Heaven of his 
 life, in which the spirit of his life lived after it had cast 
 away its body." 
 
 Some one accused him once of always addressing men 
 in his sermons, and adding women and mothers and 
 girls as an afterthought, and I remember our laughing 
 at him once because, after admiring the beauty of a 
 fancy ball, he added that "ordinary parties were all
 
 Aet. 30 285 
 
 black." It was evident what part of the party he was 
 thinking of. 
 
 Once here, at tea, where he was the only man, he 
 spoke of the strange willingness Englishmen showed to 
 change their names, forgetting, as Mamma told him, 
 that all the ladies present either had, or intended to, 
 change theirs. 
 
 He was much amused that the first big volume of 
 Stanley's life only carried one thro' his schooldays 
 and said a biography ought to begin in the middle just 
 as you met a man and go back to his childhood and 
 on to his death. 
 
 Did you ever hear how his carriage failed to come 
 one day till it was too late to get him to a meeting and 
 that he expressed himself with considerable impatience 
 and that the next morning he went over to the liv- 
 ery-stable office at the Brunswick and apologized for 
 his hastiness? 
 
 His impatience was sometimes quite evident in the 
 way he touched the bell in the Sunday School if there 
 wasn't silence at the first ring. 
 
 He was sometimes bitterly deceived in people you 
 must know instances but it was not from lack of dis- 
 cernment he was very discerning, I think but be- 
 cause, like that old Friend of God, " thro' grace he re- 
 garded them, not as they now were, but as they might 
 well become." When he had finally made up his mind 
 he was capable of much righteous indignation. Besides, 
 every one showed him their "Star-side." 
 
 One other little incident I must tell you. Gertrude 
 was always afraid of lightning and he used to hold her 
 in his arms through thunderstorms. 
 
 I have set down many things too slight to record, but
 
 286 1899 
 
 I thought any little touches that might recall him 
 vividly to you would help you in your work. 
 
 Very faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 This needs no answer, please. 
 
 To MRS. WILLIAM G. BROOKS. 
 
 Friday, April 14. 
 Dear Mrs. Brooks, 
 
 I was so sorry to hear from Gertrude how poorly you 
 were and how your trip to Andover was more than you 
 felt able to attempt. 
 
 Why don't you just lie quite still and give up plan- 
 ning for the future till your strength comes back? or 
 will your doctor and nurse shake their heads at me 
 for this unscientific advice? I know when Mamma 
 had nervous prostration she was told by her physi- 
 cians that it was the one disease in which effort was 
 not good. 
 
 I wish I could get to see you. I know so well how 
 you feel only what comes to me only by days, or 
 even hours, you are called to endure for weeks. But 
 when we are weakest and most broken we can rest 
 more entirely on the Divine strength. Strength will 
 come hope will come the great tide is sweeping up 
 to float you off the sand, which seems so blank and 
 barren about you. 
 
 I sometimes think we feel like violins, whose little 
 bridges have been broken down, and whose strings lie 
 all unstrung, but we can believe in the Great Musician, 
 who will set all to rights in His good time, and draw 
 sweet music from us yet. In the meanwhile we have
 
 Aet. 30 287 
 
 only to wait and trust. Do you remember that verse in 
 "The Christian Year " 
 
 Lord, my God, do Thou Thy holy will, 
 
 1 will lie still ; 
 
 I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm 
 And break the charm 
 
 Which lulls me clinging to my Father's breast 
 In perfect rest. 
 
 Lovingly yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 June 3rd. 
 Well, dear touring Star, 
 
 I suppose, by this time, you are shining down on the 
 green hills and meadows of Stockbridge? 
 
 And is it as beautiful as Manchester, with the sea in the 
 distance and our thickets musical with wood- thrushes? 
 All my social dram-drinking is a thing of the past so 
 are people and news. The woods are full of "ham- 
 merdryads," in the shape of carpenters, putting the 
 last touches to Miss Thayer's clothesyard and finishing 
 Sans-Gene's little attic room and new window did we 
 tell you about it? with a wire screen, to cut off from 
 the rest of the attic, so that she paces up and down in- 
 side more like a Royal Bengal tiger than ever. But a 
 tiger with a halo for she is an angel this year and 
 enjoys her out-of-door life with a tender regard for our 
 feelings. Then, you see, we have her basement room 
 to use in the really hot weather for three or four poor 
 guests for a week each.
 
 288 1899 
 
 Will it work, do you think or will one trifling brick 
 of practicalness tumble and send the whole ideal struc- 
 ture into nothing? 
 
 We all live in a rut and no one but geniuses ever get 
 out, do they? In fact, the getting out constitutes the 
 genius. 
 
 I am so glad you have got your Susie safely back, and 
 now get strong for Wednesday, the fourteenth, when 
 you must come on the 10.45 train, remember, and stay 
 till Friday afternoon. I am better and beginning to 
 get downstairs at five and try a few steps up. As for 
 my nights, I have slept more since we got here than in 
 the last three months in town put together. 
 
 Lovingly your 
 
 COUNTRY-MOUSE. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 June 20th, Tuesday. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 By what express did you send ' ' Hort's Life " ? for it has 
 not yet reached me. I delayed on that account writing 
 to thank you for the dates of the sermons, which must 
 have taken you a long time to copy for me and which I 
 am delighted to have. I notice in putting them into 
 our first volume of sermons, which is, I think, the most 
 beautiful of all, that those were written between '68 
 and '78 the "All Saints' Day Sermon "the earliest 
 and the " Shortness of Life " the latest. That, of course, 
 covers his first nine years in Boston, and was there ever 
 a time when he preached better written sermons? Of
 
 Aet. 30 289 
 
 course I have to judge only by what is printed, as I was 
 born about the time he came to us and was still young- 
 ish in '78. 
 
 Thank you again for your kindness and for sending 
 me Hort, which, I daresay, is just falling under the 
 spell of this sleepy place. 
 
 I hope this hot weather hasn't made you even more con- 
 scious of the heaviness of the work before you than ever. 
 
 We were fortunate in escaping with only two hot 
 days a fortnight ago, but they couldn't have been much 
 hotter anywhere. The sea, on such days, lies like a 
 burnished mirror to reflect the heat, and " Rackrent" 
 is but a small wooden castle hidden in trees and so named 
 because I play the part of Irish Landlord. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 I left this note open in case Hort should arrive during 
 the day and here he is at last and none the worse for 
 his travels. The express must have been celebrating 
 the battle of Bunker Hill. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 25. 
 Dear Elinor, 
 
 Here we are writing our tenth letter to you, in for- 
 eign parts, in return for three. Our name is virtue. 
 You will say your days are too full, but we might retort 
 that ours are too empty. It is dizzy work this being an 
 epistolary spider and swinging out into space on a deli- 
 cate thread of anecdote made out of your own insides 
 perhaps internal consciousness or subjectivity are pret-
 
 290 , 1899 
 
 tier words than Mrs. Nickerson's favorite in'ards, but let 
 it pass. 
 
 We also had Joe and Maggie to supper with Ethel, 
 and having always given her the impression that we 
 lived the life of a hermit thrush ' ' so beautiful, so mel- 
 ancholy," we then proceeded to crush into seven days 
 how many more things do you think? A supper at 
 the Hoopers, a supper at the Higginsons, a musical at 
 your house, a reception, an afternoon tea, three lunch- 
 eons, and a picnic at Coffin's beach. And what a nice 
 time we had at the last; lots of Cabots and prisoner's 
 base and a sunset and a moon, and to keep before us 
 the fact that " the greatest of these is Associated Char- 
 ity" Marian Jackson and Zilpha Smith arm in arm; 
 Ellen Emerson also was present, neatly but not gaudily 
 attired and up to date in current topics. She wanted 
 to know if Roosevelt was yet governor. 
 
 We feel more hopeful about the return of our little 
 doves to the Ark now that Bessie's ship is in. 
 
 Old Noah and his pets will be glad enough to get them 
 
 back. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE AND PAULINA. 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 July 26th, 1899. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 I sent the sermons back to you yesterday and trust 
 they have reached your hands safely. 
 
 I have been reading them carefully, bit by bit, with
 
 Act. 30 291 
 
 the printed sermons, and was interested to find how 
 closely he kept to his plan as a whole the order of the 
 passages and number of pages allotted to each and yet 
 how the dry bones live! The earlier synopses seemed to 
 me less finished than the ones written only later by a 
 few years. For instance, the " Curse of Meroz" in '77 
 has an occasional little outburst, apparently for himself 
 alone, ' ' It makes one mad " " the muddy humility 
 of Uriah Heep." Indeed, I noticed a number of per- 
 sonal applications which do not appear in the sermons 
 themselves. In the ' ' Greatness of Faith, " opposite the 
 words "blatant infidel," is written, "Ingersoll." I 
 have also found passages marked for three pages re- 
 duced to half a page, example of a man building a 
 house changed to one facing a great grief, and in 
 "Christian Charity" whole passages, and even ideas, 
 left entirely out. 
 
 He must have feared his own facility and the glow- 
 ing images that came crowding on his mind, to tie him- 
 self down so almost as a poet would, into sonnet form. 
 
 I hope that this beautiful cool weather has been of 
 help to you in your work. 
 
 Paulina finished " Hort's Life " to me aloud yesterday 
 and we are going to begin the " Christian Ecclesia " to- 
 day. We have been very much interested, tho' I think 
 half the letters especially those on the details of travel 
 might well have been spared. What he said on Mr. 
 Brooks was interesting, I thought, but very inadequate. 
 
 I have been rather ill this last three weeks and am 
 still getting only from sofa to bed and back again 
 what I call " the grand tour." 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 292 1899 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Judge William C. Talcott of Valparaiso, Ind., 
 eighty-nine years of age, and Miss Alice S. Boardman, 
 aged seventy-five years, of Richland, Vt., after three 
 months' courtship, were married yesterday by Judge 
 Hogan, aged seventy-five years. The groom is the 
 oldest editor in the State. 
 
 Saturday. 
 Darling Twiney, 
 
 It is never too late, you see, for love's young dream 
 so courage! I show mine by still spreading the fes- 
 tive board with fruit and, viands of every sort, like St. 
 Agnes's eve, for that American eagle. He has not come 
 even in your absence! 
 
 Mamma didn't tell you that that cat has on both her 
 hunting gaiters and her naughty towgers, and Thurs- 
 day evening disappeared for two hours one of which 
 was spent in shrieks for her by the servants and in 
 agonies by her 'lations. It may sound like an anti- 
 climax to add that it was only half-past seven when 
 the prodigal returned and eat the fatted kidney. I said 
 to Uncle Melly, " Perhaps we were a little more ridicu- 
 lous than usual." He kindly assured me that he hadn't 
 thought so which was a dubious compliment. 
 
 Aren't you having a lovely time! I'm so glad the 
 genial Mephistopheles really turned up. 
 
 I find I have a rival at the barn! The mare has 
 gained fifty-five pounds this summer. Fat or thin, . I 
 
 love you fondly. 
 
 Your own 
 
 NANNY.
 
 Aet. 30 293 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Monday Morn. 
 Dearest Mauvaise, 
 
 We are getting along splendidly and your little charge 
 is no trouble at all . Yesterday at twelve she went down- 
 stairs with me to bask out of doors and at luncheon-time 
 strolled in, hung her auriole on the hat-rack and joined 
 us in the dining room. 
 
 And so the serpent with ' ' Woman's Mission " in 
 his jaws has penetrated even the Lake Champlain 
 paradise? 
 
 Fanny has been telling me more of Charlotte Perkins 
 Stetson's desire to have women fend for themselves and 
 their offspring like the beasts of the field. I don't see 
 but what her ideal is reached in the slums among the 
 Eichwalds and Mulherns. The only trouble is that poor 
 " Man's sphere " will have to dwindle to say the Island 
 set in a silver sea. 
 
 She is also waging war with the Old Testament, 
 because it always speaks of a just, an unrighteous 
 or cruel man, while woman is left scornfully adjec- 
 tiveless. Do you think of Deborah and Jael as " pure 
 womanly"? 
 
 She will next be getting up a Crusade, I suppose, 
 against the blasphemers who describe little girls as 
 being made "of sugar and spice and everything nice," 
 while they reserve to the youthful male the more 
 human elements "of scissors and snails and puppy- 
 dogs' tails." 
 
 From One who prefers her privileges to her rights and 
 still clings to the dark ages of chivalry.
 
 294 1899 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Telegraphic Upper Piazza 
 
 & R.R. Stations Sofa County 
 
 Rackrent, Manchester. U.S.A. 
 
 Thursday Morn. 
 
 Sans-Gene gazed up at the moon behind the crumpled 
 pine last evening and said she was thinking of Aunt T. 
 You know she doesn't usually care much for scenery, 
 but it was a mackerel sky. What weather! You must 
 drink deep of beauty these ten days before resuming the 
 sad and weary round of sickroom duties. We are doing 
 nobly. In fact, Dr. Washburn and I have decided in 
 solemn conclave that now I have really taken a turn for 
 the better. The old moss-grown bucket is creaking up 
 from the depths where Truth abides. 
 
 Who should turn up yesterday, stung on by remorse, 
 but Linka, and she was allowed to play " Sous-mau- 
 vaise " till I was ready to see her. It was not a long 
 visit, as she had to catch the six train back and William 
 had flown off with the span, forsooth. News she had 
 none, and we talked Dreyfus! Don't you love Zola's 
 " Truth is on the March "? Emily is a gallant old girl. 
 And weren't you pleased to see that they had burned 
 Mercier in effigy at Darmstadt? 
 
 A most interesting letter has come from Ned Willis- 
 ton. He thinks if the Filipinos get no more arms the 
 trouble will be over in two or three months. He says 
 the situation is most extraordinary. The insurgents 
 return quietly to the towns after the battles and stay 
 till next time. We keep no prisoners but officers, and 
 nurse all their wounded these latter scarcely ever 
 return to the ranks. Indeed, he thinks if we could cap-
 
 Aet. 31 295 
 
 ture the leaders the war would be over. But Uncle 
 Melly won't let us forward his letter. And Uncle M. 
 reminds me of euchre. We three still play. " There's 
 nothing, you know, like playing Old Maid with a Gummy 
 and cheating the Gummy." 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 BOSTON, Sunday Nov. 27. 
 
 The winter is going quietly in its old ruts purely 
 social for me and varied with charities for Paulina, who 
 has got most of the little boys of St. Andrew's in her 
 admiring heart, to say nothing of their families. Thro' 
 her I get interested in them too. Indeed, I tell her that 
 I am getting to have so spiritual a meaning for my 
 neighbor that it includes every one except those who live 
 in the immediate vicinity. 
 
 And speaking of neighbors, we are so enjoying hav- 
 ing Joe and Maggie Lee in Chestnut Street. Dear old 
 Mr. Henry Lee died Thanksgiving Day, or rather, " fell 
 on sleep," having had all his family about him for the 
 last time. He was a link with our past, and tho' we 
 only saw him once a summer we were very proud of 
 that one call. What a long and useful and dignified 
 life and what a beautiful end! 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE .
 
 296 1899 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 Tuesday. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 It was very kind of you to think of Paulina and me, 
 but you know how much our hearts have been with you 
 in your work. 
 
 Your note, we thought, sounded very tired and de- 
 pressed, and I am afraid these long weeks of writing 
 under pressure have begun to tell on you. 
 
 Do take a little rest at Christmas time! 
 
 We never wrote you, did we, about the clubs Mr. 
 Brooks belonged to? It was not the Wednesday but 
 the Thursday Evening, and he went so little that 
 finally, Mr. Paine says, he was put out of that for non- 
 attendance. 
 
 In reading Browning's ' ' Balaustion's Adventure " 
 the first one aloud the other day Paulina and I were 
 very much struck by the resemblance between Herakles 
 and Mr. Brooks. Have you ever noticed it? There is 
 something in the impression it leaves on one the big- 
 ness the sympathy and cheer he brings with him into 
 the house of mourning, that recalls the other so vividly. 
 Of course you mustn't answer this, but with best Christ- 
 mas wishes, believe me, 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Dec. 26. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 Paulina and I are charmed with our green candle- 
 stick and have labelled it " Castle Rackrent" in our 
 minds.
 
 Aet. 31 297 
 
 I long to see you and to show you all my pretty 
 things, but the most beautiful part of the beautiful day 
 was a surprise planned by Paulina. In the late after- 
 noon my door was opened and nine little fellows from 
 the St. Andrew's choir sung the Christmas Carols to me 
 in the lower hall Ethel playing the accompaniment. 
 Two of them were Mr. Brooks's hymns, and the little 
 boys' voices the surprise the day, with all its asso- 
 ciations, quite upset me for a moment. It is sweet to 
 look back on. 
 
 I hope the joy of Christmas Day was with you all, 
 brightening the year to come. If we could only enter, 
 even so little, into the meaning of yesterday and Easter 
 Day it would be like two strong wings, to carry us over 
 all the little troubles and anxieties of life, wouldn't it? 
 The God of hope fill you with all joy and peace. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 298 1900 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Some one with wings where I had weary feet. 
 
 It is impossible for two souls to meet in sweet com- 
 munion without religion's sooner or later crossing the 
 threshold of their discourse. PfeRE LACORDAIRE. 
 
 A friendship which, at this most solemn time, does 
 not seem so much to have been interrupted as to have 
 been consecrated for evermore. 
 
 In old days it was strength to be with him and for the 
 future it will be strength to remember him. 
 
 WESTCOTT. 
 
 Some griefs build the soul a spacious house. 
 
 It was said of St. Paul that he had a thousand friends 
 and loved each as if he had a thousand souls, and died 
 a thousand deaths when he parted from them. 
 
 Epitaph in a German Churchyard, 
 
 I will arise, O Christ, when Thou callest me, but oh! 
 let me rest awhile, for I am very weary. 
 
 The night time of the body is the day time of the 
 spirit. 
 
 When we are very tried we must shiver, but we can 
 and do warm one another when we strengthen in one 
 another the conviction that we are all in solidarity with 
 Him. " Letters from a Mystic." 
 
 Deep thinking is attainable only by a man of deep 
 feeling, and all truth is a species of revelation.
 
 Aet. 31 299 
 
 For the maintenance of Truth is God's charge and the 
 continuance of Charity ours. WHICHCOTE. 
 
 January 23. 
 
 Trusting in Thy goodness and great mercy, O Lord, 
 I draw near as one sick to the Saviour, as one hungry 
 and thirsty to the Fountain of Life, one needy to the 
 King of Heaven, a servant to my Lord, a creature to 
 my Creator, one desolate to my kind Comforter. 
 
 Irenaeus says: " The glory of God is the living man; 
 the life of man is the vision of God." 
 
 Who lives in Heaven with the angels and on earth 
 with my soul. DANTE'S " Convito." 
 
 The Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms 
 That it receives whatever turns to it. 
 
 No votarist of our faith, 
 
 Till he has dropped his tears into the stream, 
 
 Tastes of its sweetness. 
 
 Crushed from our sorrow all that's greatest in man 
 has ever sprung. 
 
 "The ascent is thro' self above self," says Richard of 
 St. Victor. " Let him that thirsts to see God clean his 
 mirror; let him make his own spirit bright." 
 
 I think Heaven will not be as good as earth unless it 
 bring with it that sweet power to remember which is 
 the staple of Heaven here. EMILY DICKINSON.
 
 300 1900 
 
 Receive every inward and outward trouble, every dis- 
 appointment, pain, uneasiness, darkness, temptation, 
 and desolation with both thy hands, as a true oppor- 
 tunity and blessed occasion of dying to self and enter- 
 ing into a fuller fellowship with thy self-denying, suf- 
 fering Saviour; then every kind of trial and distress 
 will become the blessed day of thy prosperity. 
 
 LAW'S "Serious Call." 
 
 Is the Soul which has never been subdued to patience, 
 braced to fortitude, fired with heroic enthusiasm as har- 
 monious, as strong, as large, as free as that which has 
 been schooled in martyrdom? MARTINEAU. 
 
 We can best conquer want by wanting, weariness by 
 wearying, pain by suffering, grief by grieving, death by 
 dying. MAGEE'S " The Victor manifest in the Flesh." 
 
 I believe that those whose hearts have been educated 
 in a wide-reaching sympathy and passionate eagerness 
 to exercise their inheritance of eternal beneficence in 
 behalf of their toiling, woe-begotten brothers and sis- 
 ters in their tribulation will enter at once, when they 
 quit this world, into the fulness of angelic ministration. 
 
 "Letters from a Mystic." 
 
 All our ideas of heart knowledge appear to be con- 
 nected with suffering. We must each of us go into 
 the depths if we are to save those that are in the 
 depths. "Letters from a Mystic." 
 
 Religion doth possess the whole man in the under- 
 standing it is knowledge; in the life it is obedience; in
 
 Aet. 31 301 
 
 the affections it is delight in God. BENJAMIN WHICH- 
 COTE. 
 
 The riches of earth can be left and inherited; the 
 wealth of the soul must be won. BENJAMIN WHICH- 
 COTE. 
 
 For this cause art thou formed, both of flesh and 
 spirit, that thou mayst deal tenderly with that which 
 comes visibly before thee. IGNATIUS.
 
 302 1900 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 January 16th. 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 We all so loved the Dr. Vinton anecdote about get- 
 ting ' ' a man into a corner and then throwing his soul 
 at him," and it is so characteristic, that we hope you can 
 tuck it into the second volume. 
 
 After the second meeting at Faneuil Hall, when Mr. 
 Brooks was shaking hands with the people, one man 
 carrying a baby on his arm stepped shyly up and said, 
 "I thought you'd tell me what to do for my wife's 
 rheumatism. She has it so bad." Mr. Brooks said he 
 didn't know himself, but he would send some one who 
 did, and took the man's address. 
 
 Afterwards he exclaimed, "Imagine Mr. X. consult- 
 ing me about his wife's rheumatism! " 
 
 Mr. Brooks told us that his old sexton disapproved of 
 the crowds that came Sunday evening, and at last came 
 to him and said, "I know how to keep them away. 
 When a young man and woman come together I put 
 them in separate pews." " And," added Mr. Brooks, 
 " he expected me to sympathize in this fiendish device." 
 
 We had a very interesting talk with Mr. and Mrs. 
 Deland Sunday and one little thing she told us I must 
 save for your next call. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 No thanks, please.
 
 Aet. 31 303 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 March 8th. 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 I can't let tomorrow pass without a word of love to 
 you. 
 
 Your mother's friendship means more and more to 
 me as the days go by it seems as tho' those dearest to 
 us only went out of our sight into our soul of souls. 
 " Such losses, " Westcott says, "give a human reality 
 to the unseen world. Those on whom we look no longer 
 are, in some sense, felt to be more continuously near than 
 when they moved among us under the limitations of 
 earth; and their spiritual presence supplies a living and 
 intelligible form to the Communion of Saints, thro' which 
 we enter on the powers of the eternal life." 
 
 And thro' these dark and bitter days it has been a 
 comfort to rest on the thought of her perfect love and 
 loyalty. 
 
 Dearest Linka, you must put your arms tight round 
 poor Paulina and let her renew her strength at your 
 sunny heroism. 
 
 Yours ever and ever, 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 CASTLE EACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 I am always so pleased when I happen to be able to 
 track people's quotations for them. 
 
 The poem is from Browning's " Paracelsus," and tho' 
 we have not that volume with us I can give you the
 
 304 1900 
 
 lines correctly, as they have always been great favorites 
 with us: 
 
 I go to prove my soul ! 
 
 I see my way as birds their trackless way ! 
 
 I shall arrive ! What time, what circuit first, 
 
 I ask not ; but unless God send His hail 
 
 Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, 
 
 In some time, His good time, I shall arrive. 
 
 He guides me and the bird. In His good time ! 
 
 The other bit from Mr. Brooks's sermon on the death 
 of a young man is in "The Spiritual Man" volume, 
 pages 84 and 85, or rather pages 85 and 84, is the order 
 in which I remember giving you the quotation once. 
 
 What glorious weather we are having! I lie on a 
 sofa on my upstairs piazza, among the tree tops and 
 drink in the beauty and peace. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Sunday, July 29th. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 HOME, 
 
 November 15th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 I have grown a week stronger since we wrote and a 
 whole year older. 
 
 Saturday was the milestone, and for a birthday pres- 
 ent Mrs. Bell made me a long call in the morning and 
 Mrs. Whitman a short one in the afternoon. 
 
 I don't mean I didn't have more material gifts. You 
 will be amused to hear that Ethel's little old silver dish 
 has on it two Cupids putting two birds into a cage, and
 
 Aet. 32 305 
 
 that Paulina has given me my latest craze, a house for 
 Purple Martins, the Purple Martins of an impressionist 
 imagination. 
 
 So you see I am just as much of a baby as ever, not- 
 withstanding my years. I found two lines in Beaumont 
 and Fletcher that seem to suit my case exactly: 
 
 'Tis not a life, 
 'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away. 
 
 Friday afternoon for my one person I saw Joe Smith 
 and his Corinna such a pretty girl, and so sweet and 
 affectionate. He looks beaming, and glances from her 
 to you, eager for sympathy. 
 
 Paulina's days are full of small gaieties, all the pleas- 
 anter for being small, and in a few weeks I hope to get 
 down to help her with the Wednesdays. Mamma is 
 well and sends love. It is nice to hear of you lotus-eat- 
 ing, and natural to have this little talk with you on one 
 of our Thursdays. 
 
 My heart has been playing rather troublesome tricks 
 of late, but it is a shade better this week than last, and 
 I have sat up once for half an hour in a blanket 
 always a forlorn business, and, what is quite the reverse, 
 I have managed, even the worst days, to see my five 
 o'clock friend. 
 
 Dr. Mason gets a little doubtful about " those friends " 
 sometimes, and asks if the enjoyment pays for the effort 
 and fatigue. He is very kind and dear, and as Dr. 
 Washburn makes me an occasional call, unprofession- 
 ally, I have not lost one in getting back the other. It 
 isn't every one, is it, that has two pet doctors? 
 
 The Bells and Pratts go back with Nellie next month, 
 but only for a visit. They are looking for rooms at
 
 306 1900 
 
 York for the summer, and little Helen is to come out to 
 them next winter to start her young-lady life in the 
 Chestnut Street house. 
 
 Mrs. Bell told me of her indignation at some friends 
 asking her if they would not live in Europe " Live in 
 Europe," she repeated, with a whole line of exclama- 
 tion points. 
 
 She makes me an hour's call every week, and is dearer 
 than ever. She seems to have the fountain of eternal 
 youth in her heart and it bubbles up irrepressibly 
 from under the weight of anxiety and years and sorrow. 
 
 It isn't too late to send, tho' it may be too late for you 
 to get, every beautiful wish for the Christmas time. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 November 18. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 The lines are from Tennyson's " In Memoriam," and 
 here is a correct copy, with punctuations. 
 
 I am glad you see rest ahead tho' it is put off for yet 
 another week. 
 
 Paulina came across this sentence of Gregory's on 
 Origen, which, of course, is familiar to you, but was 
 new to us and made us think of Mr. Brooks: 
 
 "Love for him was like an arrow which fixed itself 
 deep in the heart and could not be drawn out, or like a 
 spark setting the soul on fire." 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Sunday.
 
 Aet. 32 307 
 
 And manhood fused with female grace 
 In such a sort, the child would twine 
 A trustful hand, unask'd, in thine, 
 And find his comfort in thy face. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Dec. 19th and 20th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Isn't the week before Christmas a lovely time? The 
 " Peace" isn't exactly here, but the " Good will to men " 
 seems to hang over the days and warm our hearts. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman was here last night, fresh from the 
 shops. She said when she saw the dense crowd, from 
 Shepard & Norwell's to Tremont Street, and " realized 
 that every one there was buying for somebody else! " 
 We thought it very characteristic of her dear, hopeful 
 way of seeing things. And she was full of joy over 
 Mr. Brooks's Life, which she had been glancing thro' 
 before a real reading. She thinks it is a remarkable 
 piece of work and couldn't wait till Christmas before 
 sending it off to Miss Woolsey. This made us very 
 happy, as Professor Allen had filled us with his own 
 doubts and discouragements as the work went on. No 
 one could have given it more loving thought and study, 
 however, nor been better fitted for so difficult a task. 
 He has given the book to Paulina and me " in glad and 
 grateful recognition of the many happy hours spent in 
 talking over the life of Phillips Brooks." And she is 
 going to read it aloud to me as soon as there is a little 
 lull in the Christmasing. 
 
 And now, dear Owl, I suppose you will hoot in a mel- 
 ancholy manner if I don't tell you just how I am
 
 308 1900 
 
 instead of drawing cheerful conclusions from my writ- 
 ing with my own pen but that for tomorrow. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 [Dec.] 
 My dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Do you keep wishing carpets in Cambridge, or genii 
 that do your bidding for the rubbing of a ring? 
 
 We could not believe that the Life came from you 
 so soon after you left us till we opened at the fly-leaf 
 and read the beautiful inscription. 
 
 It made us very proud and happy to have it given us 
 together in this way and Ethel understands entirely. 
 
 Mr. Stokes writes that he is not sending it to us, as 
 he supposes you will, but that he is giving it to all his 
 other friends. 
 
 Paulina and I are beginning it over again from the 
 very beginning she reading it aloud to me. We want 
 to get the effect of it as a whole. 
 
 I have said nothing, but you know how much I feel 
 for you in finishing this great work, to which you 
 have given so much thought and love these last years 
 it must be like breaking off of some sacred compan- 
 ionship. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Tuesday.
 
 Aet. 32 309 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 That I may be a word of God, not a mere cry. 
 
 Indirectly quoted from St. Ignatius. 
 
 They who are sick need a Saviour; they who have 
 wandered a guide; they who are blind one who shall 
 lead them to the light; they who thirst the living foun- 
 tain, of which he who partakes shall thirst no more; 
 the dead need life; the sheep a shepherd; children a 
 tutor; all mankind need Jesus. 
 
 CLEMENT OF ALEXANDRIA.
 
 310 1901 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 January 3rd, 1901. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Did you hear how Boston welcomed in the New Cen- 
 tury with hymns and the noise of trumpets? 
 
 We have been reading Mr. Brooks's sermon ' < The 
 Great Expectation," and thinking with what joy and 
 hope he would have looked forward into the new stage 
 of the world's life even tho' there is " distress of nations 
 with perplexity and men's hearts failing them for fear 
 and for looking after those things which are coming on 
 the earth." 
 
 Booker Washington finished one of his speeches with, 
 "Why am I hopeful about my race? Because I have 
 read American History. Because we went into slavery 
 two centuries ago without a language and came out 
 speaking the noble Anglo-Saxon tongue. Because we 
 went in Pagans and came out Christians. Because we 
 went in with the chains of slavery on our arms and 
 came out with the American spelling-book in one hand 
 and the Bible in the other." Isn't that fine? 
 
 And now to descend from these heights to dear every- 
 day things. I was delighted with that perfectly charm- 
 ing handkerchief, and it came as such a surprise. To 
 be sure I felt a little as if I had had a Christmas pres- 
 ent from my Owl on the day itself, for Mamma had 
 those two photographs of beautiful stiff angels you 
 once gave me framed together for Rackrent such a 
 pretty picture they make. 
 
 I had numbers and numbers of pretty things, includ- 
 ing a new silk coat, a promised gown from Mamma 
 (shall I ever need it, I wonder?), old silver from Mr.
 
 Aet. 32 311 
 
 Paine and Ethel, a charming night-lamp from Mrs. 
 Whitman, and a twenty dollar gold-piece from Paulina, 
 to spend on my follies. 
 
 But the present that touched me most was a great 
 bundle of evergreens from poor old Ben Morse, at Man- 
 chester. Every picture is draped with it and gives the 
 " little Sanctuary " a most Christmas-y look. 
 
 I wish we could live at this season all the year or 
 rather, keep the spirit of it fresh in our hearts. 
 
 I am better really better, after giving them all a 
 long fright. I ought to have been named for my great- 
 grandmother De Wolfe, oughtn't I? I cry it so often. 
 
 Mamma and I are delighting in the ' ' Letters of T. E. 
 Brown." Have you seen them? There is one on the 
 death of his wife that I am sure would go straight to 
 your heart. 
 
 Don't, in exciting Rome, forget 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ISABELLA CURTIS. 
 
 8 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 BOSTON, January 28. 
 Dear Bella, 
 
 The "Queen of the Mavis" sends you his love and 
 this spotted feather from his breast. Professor Allen, 
 wishing to be sympathetic, said he had a fine head and 
 shoulders. Did you ever hear of a bird's shoulders be- 
 fore? He is a very dear fellow. Otherwise what news 
 have we to send you from this sad, sad town. It is a 
 comfort to think of Mrs. Fiske's having two such sons- 
 in-law to stand by her, and how happy it must make
 
 312 1901 
 
 Elinor to feel how much she is to them all at this time. 
 Didn't you feel awfully about the old Queen's death? 
 We feel as though one of the foundations of the world 
 had fallen, and every one is gloomy except Mrs. Whit- 
 man, who strikes a more cheerful note. "Victoria," 
 she says, " was modern and sporadic; with Edward 
 VII she feels as though she had lapsed into history." 
 
 Mr. Paine told us he was much amused yesterday at 
 a service at the Central Church, to have them say, in a 
 prayer, that they trusted "she had gone to a larger 
 sphere of usefulness." As though, poor thing, she had 
 been a " violet by a mossy stone, half hidden from the 
 eye." 
 
 Mrs. Be 1 !! came to make her farewell call yesterday 
 and was so fascinating that we were less and less rec- 
 onciled to her being torn from us. They go abroad to- 
 morrow night. She speaks of modern Paris as ' ' Albany 
 with the streets running with blood." 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 Sunday. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Quite a wail went up yesterday when you did not 
 appear! We hope it was only the extreme cold, or 
 some trifling business, that kept you, and not illness. 
 
 Of course we understood your not coming the week 
 before. We had heard of Mrs. Stone's death. 
 
 We had so many things to ask and tell you about the 
 book indeed, we begin saving up Sunday and usually 
 forget half we wanted to say when Saturday comes. 
 
 And that reminds me. Miss Foster wanted me to 
 ask you about the Sermon on Civil Service Reform,
 
 Aet. 32 313 
 
 preached by Mr. Brooks in '89, and mentioned on page 
 721 of Volume II. 
 
 Is Mr. William Brooks the person to apply to in view 
 of its publication or would this be out of the ques- 
 tion? Miss Foster is " prominent in Civil Service Re- 
 form Circles," as the newspaper would say. 
 
 Miss Lowell is delighted with the Life indeed, we 
 hear only a chorus of praise. Mr. Higginson gave it to 
 Mrs. Higginson as a Christmas present, and they in- 
 tended to read it together, but she could wait no longer 
 and has started without him. Paulina found her last 
 night just thro' the ancestry chapter, over which she 
 was most enthusiastic. 
 
 We are deep in the theology. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 St. Valentine's Day. 
 My darling Elinor, 
 
 You would think, with my love of birds, that I would 
 get used to the spring and fall migrations of old pets, 
 but don't. I think of putting half a dozen favorite 
 friends into cages and keeping them always about me, 
 but in the meanwhile 
 
 No matter, you'll soon be back, and when in May 
 you come driving up to Rackrent you will see me look- 
 ing out for you through an opera glass to see if you've 
 got the proper amount of wing-bars and a " partially 
 concealed erectile crest." 
 
 Have a lovely time and come home rested and re- 
 freshed to your mission of sympathizer and comforter.
 
 314: 1901 
 
 As we get older that must be more and more our 
 desire and inspiration that and being a little worthier 
 of the past, whose full glory and dearness we did not 
 know "when we walked therein." 
 
 I don't ever tell you being shy, you know, with 
 strangers how I love you, and how my heart strings 
 are wrapped round both Sharksmouth and " 28," which 
 I have never had to remember without your father. 
 
 Nothing takes the place of the old, and our roots have 
 gone down deep into the same soil together, haven't 
 they? And drunk of the same stream, and the same 
 birds have sung among our branches as they do 
 today. 
 
 Your loving 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 March llth. 
 Dear Girls, 
 
 But little Bol's letter sounded gloomy. 
 
 If the gloom ever comes on again come right home 
 and set up a Japanese robin. Helen has just given one 
 to me and he lives with the Judge and the Admiral of 
 the Blue as happy as can be. And sings! He posi- 
 tively shouts for joy, just like a big robin; only he is 
 little and gray, with a red beak, a moss-green head, 
 and a flame-coloured throat. If it weren't for his large 
 thrush eye he would look like a fast chickadee who had
 
 Aet. 32 315 
 
 put on gay clothes and rouged his beak. But he isn't 
 coming to Monte Carlo! 
 
 Your fondest 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Easter Eve. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 When Paulina called last and found a carriage at 
 your door to carry you and your mother to Andover 
 we were pleased, but since 
 
 What weather you have had and weather means 
 so much more in the country. 
 
 How have Mrs. Brooks's health and spirits stood it, and 
 has she been strong enough to enjoy seeing Susie's boy? 
 
 We have you all constantly in our thoughts. Indeed, 
 dear Gertrude, your wonderful courage and cheerful- 
 ness are a help to us all. 
 
 What f aintings of the heart you must often almost 
 sink under we can only guess at what self-control 
 and long patience and unselfish interest in others we 
 can see a little. "Tarry thou the Lord's leisure; be 
 strong and He shall comfort thine heart!" 
 
 And hers, too, who has been called on to endure so 
 much hardness these last years depression of spirit as 
 well as pain of body, and weakness, which is worse 
 than pain. ' ' But when the times of restitution come 
 The sweet times of refreshment come at last." 
 
 And will you give her my dearest love and wish her 
 and yourself all the brightest Easter wishes from me? 
 
 Lovingly always, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 316 1901 
 
 SUMMER OF 1901. BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 
 And smalle fowles maken melodic. 
 
 Thou hast no sorrow in thy song ; 
 
 No winter in thy year. 
 
 JOHN LOGAN. 
 
 Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang. 
 
 Legend of St. Brendan. 
 
 And when the eventide was come the birds began all 
 with one voice to sing and clap their wings, crying, 
 " Thou, God, art praised in Zion and unto Thee shall 
 the vow be performed in Jerusalem." And always they 
 repeated that verse for an hour, and their melody and 
 the clapping of their wings was like music which drew 
 tears by its sweetness. . . . And when the dawn shone 
 they sang again, ' ' The splendour of the Lord is over 
 us;" and at the third hour, "Sing psalms to our God; 
 sing, sing to our King, sing with wisdom ; " and at the 
 sixth, " The Lord has lifted up the light of His counte- 
 nance upon us." So day and night those birds gave 
 praise to God. 
 
 This guest of summer, 
 
 The temple-haunting martlet, does approve 
 
 By his lov'd masonry that heaven's breath 
 
 Smells wooingly here. . . . 
 
 Where they most brood and haunt 
 
 I have observed 
 
 The air is delicate.
 
 Aet. 32 317 
 
 May 6. 
 
 Moved to Manchester, to April skies but bare trees. 
 Saw four or five Robins driving up from the station; 
 otherwise emptiness and silence. 
 
 May 7. 
 
 At gray dawn the earliest pipe of half -a wakened birds, 
 Robins, roused us to ornithological duties. 
 
 Before breakfast saw a pair of Red-breasted Nuthatches 
 constantly eating about the barrel house, two beautiful 
 male Black-throated Greens in our tree and about, a 
 brilliant Pine Warbler in the pine, and a fat little Gray 
 Warbler with yellow bib and wing-bars on the tree, who 
 afterward turned out to be his wife, as we saw them 
 kissing in the air. 
 
 Exquisite warm day; spent eight and a half hours in 
 the open air and had the bird-table set out and the 
 granary taken down, including squirrel nest, in the 
 basement. The red owner came to seek it in the after- 
 noon. Heard Song-sparrows, Oven-birds, and a Bob 
 White; some unfamiliar songs, and what we took for 
 a Flicker's voice. Three birds fly into the pine one 
 has a deep rose breast Purple Finch at last. We also 
 see a pair of Chickadees, and I see Downy, and Paulina 
 sees Phoebe and one Robin. 
 
 And the Spring comes slowly up this way. COLERIDGE. 
 
 May 12, Sunday. 
 
 Like the soul 
 
 Of the sweet season, vocal in a bird, 
 Gurgles in ecstasy we know not what.
 
 318 1901 
 
 Clears off exquisitely warm and bright at noon. Be- 
 tween three and four o'clock in the afternoon, as I lie 
 on my piazza, I hear a few preliminary harsh notes, and 
 then a small bird launches himself into the air, between 
 hemlocks and crooked pine, in a perfect ecstasy of song 
 a musical rocket and is gone almost before I realize 
 that I have seen the Oven-bird singing his afternoon 
 song. Heard him twice again an hour later, and at 
 six see him again, this time bursting from the hem- 
 locks over the house, and so near that I can see his 
 lighter breast and his whole body quivering. Hear, 
 several times, a chittering of Swallows, or Swifts, and 
 see two or three groups of small birds, flying high at 
 sunset, who might be they. Also largish bird with 
 sharp chirp. Throstle and I stay out till nearly seven 
 and enjoy a two hours' concert from a Wood Thrush 
 soloist. 
 
 May 16. 
 
 They pruned themselves and made themselves right gay, 
 Dancing and leaping light upon the spray ; 
 And ever two and two together were, 
 The same as they had chosen for the year 
 Upon St. Valentine's returning day. 
 
 CHAUCER'S " Cuckoo and Nightingale." 
 
 Exquisite day. See all the birds of yesterday but 
 Pine Warbler. Parula and Black-throated Blue, and 
 in addition our first Vireo, the yellow-throated. Later 
 he and his mate in crooked pine. 
 
 See two Redstarts males in full chase also court- 
 ings and fightings innumerable among the Black- 
 throated Greens. Mrs. Black- throated Green lands on
 
 
 Aet. 32 319 
 
 table, and Humming-bird sits in tree, and I can see the 
 ruby at his throat. Chestnut-sided, very prominent, 
 house-hunting, and in full song. I also see a big, heavy 
 bird flying low over the house. Short tail, white 
 stomach, long neck, and black head? Saw a beautiful 
 gray Squirrel in full plumage. 
 
 May 18. 
 
 With what a clear and ravishing sweetness sang the plaintive 
 
 thrush ; 
 
 I love to hear his delicate, rich voice 
 Chanting through all the gloomy day, when loud 
 Amid the trees is dropping the big rain, 
 And gray mists wrap the hills for aye ; the sweeter 
 
 His song is when the day is sad and dark. 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 Cold and gray. Two male Redstarts pursuing each 
 other through my tree, the color of the oak buds. Mr. 
 Nuthatch feeds his wife very tenderly with suet; later 
 a Chickadee feeds his wife in the tree, while Mrs. Black- 
 throated Green carries more wicking up into the pine. 
 Chestnut-sided all about in full song. At breakfast- 
 time get my first view of a King-bird and a splendid 
 view of the first Blue Jay of the season. See the Wood 
 Thrush a number of times, also Indigo-bird, and Mrs. 
 Downy, Robins and Crows. Pouring with rain, but 
 Thrush chants his vespers undisturbed. 
 
 May 28. 
 
 " And the rain it raineth every day." Mrs. Downy, 
 the Nuthatches and the Chickadees come eagerly for 
 their breakfast with their feathers touzled and wet. 
 Later Indigo-bird appears, neat, glossy and composed.
 
 320 1901 
 
 Blue Jay comes to eat suet and I get a splendid view of 
 a Flicker sitting in a pine branch with his red collar 
 gleaming and his wings hanging so that I see the golden 
 shafts. The Blue Jay returns five more times to the 
 suet, so big and handsome and blue, and once while 
 he eats Mrs. Black-throated Green sits on a twig close 
 by and watches him. See besides, through the win- 
 dows, Robins and Crows. In the heavy mist Oven-bird 
 sings his flight-song over and over, and the Whippoor- 
 will calls from the brook. 
 
 The High-hole flashing his golden wings. 
 
 June 4. 
 
 Exquisite day from dawn and much warmer. Get 
 my first really good sight of an Oven-bird hopping along 
 a bare branch and singing, and later see him, or rather 
 the Golden-crowned Thrush, walking down by the gar- 
 den bed, and, finally, carrying off a big piece of boiled egg. 
 
 Male Ruby-throated Humming Bird sits, gleaming 
 with green and crimson, on the downstairs piazza rail. 
 Get several glimpses of an unknown warbler with a 
 yellow rump some yellow on wings or side and a gen- 
 eral grayish back? 
 
 After lunch a biggish bird flies into my tree and sits 
 for ten minutes or so on the suet branch, quite still or 
 pruning her feathers, smaller than a robin, with a me- 
 dium stout bill no eye-ring or wing bars. The head 
 and the whole body yellowish green, the tail long, slen- 
 der and dusky grayish brown, as were also the wings 
 Mrs. Scarlet Tanager! 
 
 At eleven put the "Admiral of the Blue" into the 
 big cage and open the door he flies out, but only
 
 Aet. 32 321 
 
 diagonally across the piazza, where he sits looking out 
 through the bars into the tree for a while and then hops 
 back into his cage, where he remains, though the door 
 is left open until four o'clock. 
 
 Like a caged bird escaping suddenly. 
 And as the cageling newly flown returns. 
 
 June 21. 
 
 Showery and warm cleared off exquisitely by sun- 
 set. Waked by a great clamor of young and old birds 
 near Paulina's oak. Paulina saw a Yellow- throated 
 Vireo in the tumult. Later two or three young bird flur- 
 ries under my tree, in which Vireo and Wood Thrush 
 take part. Oven-bird picking up cracker by the garden 
 path, and Jay on the ground there. Bob White voices 
 very near. At six Baltimore Oriole hangs about in his 
 oak. At six Phoebe appears again in the crooked pine, 
 etc. Later we get a splendid view of the Oven-bird, 
 singing his exquisite song far, far above our heads 
 then as the trill breaks he falls with it and drops down 
 among the tree tops. 
 
 That strain again ! it had a dying fall : 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 Stealing and giving odor. 
 
 June 23, Sunday. 
 
 Heavy fog, which clears by ten o'clock, when Black- 
 throated Green hovers all about my tree; then the Red- 
 start who wants to come on to the table, and quarrels 
 with Nuthatch on the subject. Jays about the mound 
 and Wood Thrush "chooking" in the sumachs.
 
 322 1901 
 
 Just before lunch one Chickadee returns to the table 
 after a nine days' absence and I suddenly perceive that 
 there are three Nuthatches, the little father eating nuts, 
 and two babies in my tree, fatter, fluffier, with yellower 
 breast and, if possible, stubbier tail. 
 
 Hear and see more of them later in further pine trees, 
 tenderly waited on by their papa while their dingy 
 mother takes a much-needed rest. 
 
 Red-eyed Vireo comes into the tree, and of course 
 Indigo-bird. In the afternoon another thunderstorm 
 and more fog. 
 
 June 26. 
 
 Looked out at sunrise, deep pink through a grey mist, 
 and every bush and tree musical with little bird voices. 
 Mrs. Nuthatch eats from the dish in my hand four 
 times. Paulina sees the lost honeymooning Tits be- 
 yond the paddock. The Wood Thrush comes into 
 my tree as well as the Red-eyed and Yellow-throated 
 Vireos, and I see the Chestnut-sided Warbler. Very 
 hot all day, but the afternoon nearly as exquisite as 
 yesterday, and the Thrushes even more glorious. One 
 sits for fifteen minutes on the tip of a pine, singing 
 steadily, while three others answer him . Black- throated 
 Green bathes twice. Robins thick everywhere. See the 
 Oven-bird's flight-song. Spent the night out of doors, 
 and just at twelve, as the moon sinks behind the trees, 
 the Oven-bird bursts into an ecstasy. 
 
 June 27. 
 
 At 3.30 the Whippoorwill stops singing and all the 
 other birds chirp themselves awake. At five the most 
 exquisite Thrush music for two hours, three long duets 
 from a singer on the tip of the crooked pine and one
 
 Aet. 32 323 
 
 on the near hemlocks, each duet ended by the hemlock 
 Thrush joining the other in the pine, singing awhile, 
 and then flying after each other at six. Mr. Nuthatch 
 eats from the dish in my hand. Black-throated Green 
 bathes twice and Chestnut-sided and Indigo-bird land 
 in my tree all at once. See beside, before breakfast. 
 Jays and Red-eyed Vireos everywhere, Swallows and 
 Swifts, Crows and Robins, Black-and-white Warbler in 
 my tree and finally Wood Pewee. 
 
 Also see one Baby Nuthatch being fed in distant 
 pine, later. See the two babies, as usual, not far apart. 
 A flurry of Black- throated Greens come into my trees 
 two Red-eyed Vireos, and then an entirely strange 
 bird warm brown, with lighter breast, a little striped 
 head, a little puffed up, and a most familiar beak and 
 Indigoish chirp, wings not barred, but different shades 
 of brown Mrs. Indigo, of course. 
 
 Baby Nuthatch No. I flutters up between the awning 
 and the wire door, while Baby No. II sits on the piazza 
 rail. Very hot day, but lovely toward sunset. While 
 we watch a Wood Thrush singing we see the glint of a 
 ruby, catch the light on the same twig, and see the 
 most beautiful male Humming-bird who sits after- 
 wards in the crooked pine a marvel of beauty . See the 
 Oven-bird in his flight-song, as we do now very often. 
 
 There is a nameless air 
 
 Of sweet renewal over all, which fills 
 
 The earth and sky with life, and everywhere, 
 
 Before the scarce-seen sun begins to glow, 
 
 The birds awake which slumbered all night long. 
 
 And with a gush of song, 
 
 First doubting of their strain, then full and wide, 
 
 Raise their fresh hymns thro' all the country side.
 
 324 1901 
 
 July 1. 
 
 Waked at four by a glorious Thrush concert. See 
 before breakfast eight of the same birds as yesterday, 
 plus a Crow, a Yellow-throated Vireo, and the dear 
 Redstart. Black-throated Green bathes, the Vireos 
 hunt the Jays about, and the Goldfinch voices come very 
 near. The Nuthatch babies appear again in great force 
 and their parents are not too busy to do a good deal of 
 courting. Chestnut-sided Warbler comes into my tree 
 and Oven-bird feeds on the garden path. At five see 
 for the first time the preliminaries to the flight-song, 
 the Oven-bird making his way up to the top of 
 Paulina's oak and then launching himself off. Slept 
 out breathlessly hot. 
 
 July 6. 
 
 Male Humming-bird darts between the oak scrub 
 and the honeysuckle a blaze of crimson. Blue Jay 
 in the tree before breakfast. Indigo-bird on the table 
 and Baby Nuthatches all over crooked pine. One 
 little girl and one little boy (in beaver hat) sit close 
 together, eating suet, and the little boy takes nuts 
 from the dish held up to him by Paulina, as does the 
 little mother. The father only lands on the dish held 
 out anywhere. 
 
 July 7. 
 
 Like a pomegranate flower 
 
 In the dark foliage of the cedar tree, 
 
 Shone out and sang for me. 
 
 Baltimore Oriole day. One appears in his own oak 
 at breakfast time; then two on the "gate-post pine;"
 
 Aet. 32 325 
 
 then a brownish bird with yellowish breast and orange 
 rump and tail my first Mrs. Baltimore Oriole. Then 
 the two dash about, whistling, chattering, flashing 
 from tree to tree. 
 
 Three Baby Boy Nuthatches sit on the suet branch 
 together, eat from dish held to them frequently, and 
 one lands. Baby Girl feeds twice from dish held to 
 her. Oven-bird sits in my tree and Mr. Humming- 
 bird settles pensively in crooked pine. Chickadee eats 
 suet and Indigo-bird seed. 
 
 Wood Thrushes glorious after lunch. Saw one of 
 them and also Chestnut-sided Warbler, Eed-eyed Vireo, 
 etc. , and, last of all, Jays being chased from the garden 
 path by the irate parents of the neighborhood. Saw 
 the flight- song. 
 
 July 24. 
 
 Baby-bird day. Twitterings from every bush nurs- 
 ery and broods of Red-eyed Vireos, Black-and-white 
 Creepers, Black-throated Greens, and Chestnut-sided 
 Warblers everywhere with anxious parents (the latter 
 green back and top of head, whitish face and breast, 
 yellowish wing-bars, but tail erect and wings drooping 
 in the correct manner). Saw my first Cedar Waxwings, 
 one six times, sitting on a sunny pine top, so that I 
 could see even the red on his wings. Also two King- 
 birds (not seen since May 18th), two Hummers who 
 come together (neither adult male), Redstart, Pine 
 Warbler, three mealers, etc. Flight-song and a near 
 Thrush concert. 
 
 Hatched and fed as safe as may be 
 Many a little feathered baby.
 
 326 1901 
 
 Aug. 2. 
 
 Another perfect day. Saw twenty kinds of birds, in- 
 cluding Barn and Tree Swallows, Chebec, my first male 
 Downy Woodpecker of the season and my first Scarlet 
 Tanager; male Blackbirds far overhead and Goldfinches 
 a little nearer, so that for the first time this year I saw 
 the yellow breast and dark wings. 
 
 After breakfast the sunny hillside, about and below 
 the crooked pine, the oak scrubs, barberries, everywhere, 
 
 were 
 
 All alive with tiny things, 
 Stirring feet and whirring wings, 
 Just an instant seen. 
 
 Aug. 19. 
 
 Two great birds fly low over the mound pine as large 
 as Crows, with square, short tails, and, seen from below, 
 dark gray in color Hawks or Owls. See besides, Gulls, 
 Crows, Robins, Vireos, Swifts and Barn Swallows, 
 Black-throated Greens (male and female), Black-and- 
 white Creepers, one of whom hops along piazza rail. 
 Young Pine Warbler, young Chestnut-sided, adult male 
 Redstart, distant Goldfinches, Wood Pewee, Chickadees 
 and Nuthatches, who bring three babies today a girl 
 and two very baby boys who sit huddled up together on 
 a branch of my tree for an hour or more being fed and 
 sleeping the most adorable feather bunch. 
 
 Oct. 3. 
 
 Clears at noon after a pouring night. In the bar- 
 berry tangle, eating the berries, see yesterday's Thrush, 
 whose bright brown head and shoulders suggest the 
 Wood, if it were not too late. Later see an all olive
 
 Aet. 32 327 
 
 backed Thrush in the tangle with throstle-like breast, 
 and then what is undoubtedly the Wood Thrush. A 
 Brown Creeper creeps up my tree and in the sumachs 
 we get a splendid view of our first Ruby-crowned King- 
 let (uncrowned, with white spectacles, distinct wing- 
 bars, forked tail, and so tiny). See twice again the 
 duller Thrush, and see his buffy eye-ring and lores; 
 why not the Olive-backed? 
 
 See besides, Chickadees, Nuthatches, a seated Jay, 
 Robins and a Junco in the barberry tangle, and then 
 see (in a flock who arrive with loud chirpings) one spar- 
 row-like bird, distinctly a rich brindle back, broad 
 brown and black stripes, head with at least two stripes, 
 possibly grayey white with white chin piece, young 
 White-throated Sparrow.
 
 328 1901 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 CASTLE KACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 (May 19.) 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 We were sorry not to see you yesterday, but very glad 
 that you did not get your first glimpse of Manchester on 
 such a grim and ugly day. 
 
 And next Saturday we will try to arrange the weather 
 better, but do come next time, won't you, rain or shine, 
 on the 12.40 train. 
 
 A week's margin is all the view deserves, and if the 
 skies fail us we can look inward and not outward 
 down and not up. 
 
 We still cling to Saturdays, if they suit you as well, 
 from sentimental reasons. 
 
 The train goes to Boston in the evening at about 9.30, 
 which will give you time for a comfortable cigar. 
 
 You see we haven't borrowed so many of your books 
 without guessing that you smoke. 
 
 Very faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Sunday, May 19th. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Monday, May 20. 
 Oh, dearest, dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Our very souls are wrung for you! 
 
 The alarming message the long, long, anxious voy- 
 age, and then this awful news to greet you you who 
 have had so much sorrow and loneliness, and so little 
 joy, these last years.
 
 Aet. 32 329 
 
 And I know a little how close your sister was to you 
 what a comfort and stay what a true, strong, 
 unselfish life hers was. 
 
 You must feel as if she had laid down health and 
 strength almost life itself in the service of others. 
 
 Indeed, if the shadow had fallen upon her brave 
 spirit Death must seem to you all not Death, but Life 
 and Light and the Peace of God, which passeth all 
 understanding. 
 
 That must be the only comfort to your stricken 
 heart these awful days. "If ye loved me ye would 
 rejoice." 
 
 I long to put my arms close round you, dear. 
 
 God bless you always and always, and make His face 
 to shine upon you in your darkest hours. 
 
 Yours in true love and sympathy, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 June 3rd. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 This isn't a note to answer, but just a little word of 
 love this exquisite day. 
 
 I wish you were here in the peace and glory for 
 our hillside is a mist of green under the tender blue 
 of the sky and it seems somehow easier to think of 
 you and Ellen in such scenes as this. 
 
 But next week I shall have you both Ellen at her 
 own house and you even closer. That will be so dear 
 and you will stay two nights, won't you so as to 
 have one long, still day between the journeys?
 
 330 1901 
 
 Mamma's seeing you was a comfort to us all. Do you 
 know the sense of things being unbearable? I mean of 
 sorrows coming close to one's friends till one sees one's 
 friends and feels the warmth, as it were, and knows 
 by touch and sight that it is bearable by the grace of 
 God, 
 
 And what beautiful tributes to your sister from the 
 town of Brookline and the Catholics. 
 
 As I was thinking of her and you the other day I 
 remembered suddenly a verse from Mrs. Browning 
 do you know it? 
 
 The heart that like a staff was one 
 For mine to lean and rest upon, 
 The strongest in the longest day, 
 With patient love is snatched away, 
 And still my days go on go on. 
 
 Lovingly yours, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ELINOR CURTIS. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 19. 
 Dearest Elinor, 
 
 We know you would sympathize with the fact that 
 little Father Nuthatch has brought two babies of his 
 second brood to call, and that your old heart would melt 
 if you could see them cuddled down on a branch close 
 together, like two dazed feather eggs, with their pink 
 melon-colored waistcoats shining in the sun. And yes- 
 terday one of the little monsters flew across Alice and 
 clung to the screen door for a long while within reach 
 of her hand while we all gathered to watch him, so 
 fluffy and tailless, with tender yellow feet and yellow
 
 Aet. 32 331 
 
 buttonhole stitching round the corners of his mouth. 
 Then he climbed slowly up the whole length of the 
 door and flew bravely. And then the two old Pewees 
 have brought their three " Weepes." 
 
 Did we tell you why we can never more write to 
 William Brewster, our Massachusetts advisory counsel? 
 We described a rare new Warbler we had seen, with 
 pearl-grey waistcoat and crimson cap. He wrote back 
 hide our blushes "Could it not possibly have been 
 allied to the Chipping Sparrow? " How are the mighty 
 fallen! It was. 
 
 Alice is so romantic about you nowadays that I make 
 merry on the subject. She says that if, like the people 
 in Lear's " Nonsense Rhymes," she only could grow 
 more and more like her companions, her wings would 
 sprout and then she could fly over mornings to Sharks- 
 mouth to see you all. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE AND PAULINA SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT, 
 MANCHESTER. 
 
 Sunday, Sept. 30th. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 When my familiar birds slip away these autumn days 
 and leave me I comfort myself with the thought that 
 warm weather will bring them back again in brighter 
 plumage and full song and how much more my human 
 Owl! 
 
 We did not want to say last night we don't like to
 
 332 1901 
 
 think how much we are going to miss you. Only get 
 rested and refreshed and grow such an elastic conscience 
 that in the future you will be able to jump up, like 
 Gulliver, at any moment, and break the thousand hairs 
 that tie you down. 
 
 Then we shall make all the calls on your time and 
 sympathy we long to. 
 
 It makes Boston seem a chillier place to go back to 
 without one of the warm hearts that beat kindly for us 
 to bid us welcome. 
 
 Real friends are too precious to spare! But we don't 
 live by sight, and the thought of you will bring Italy 
 closer. 
 
 God keep you safe, and make his face to shine upon 
 you more and more unto the perfect day. 
 
 Your grateful and loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Wednesday Morning. 
 Darling little Workbasket, 
 
 It was nice to have two letters from you walk in hand 
 in hand late yesterday afternoon. 
 
 Ethel and I were out on the piazza, and inside the 
 screen door sat Momb and Doodles and Krututsk, who 
 had come down to hear about Mauvaise, in her uncle's 
 arms. 
 
 Ethel looks very well and was exceedingly dear and 
 characteristic. 
 
 Little Father Nuthatch has struck for shorter hours
 
 Aet. 33 333 
 
 and more time to eat his meals. When those big fat 
 babies choke down their nuts to hop after him, twid- 
 dling their wings to be fed he bites at them quite 
 ferociously. It was cunning Monday to see three of 
 those same babies all splashing about together in the 
 big tub and then hanging themselves up on the sunny 
 tree-trunk to dry. 
 
 I asked Josephine last evening if she had heard the 
 Owl hooting. 
 
 " Yiss'm," she replied, eagerly, "I was sitting out on 
 the steps. Wasn't it just lovely? " 
 
 Do you suppose for a moment that she was sitting on 
 the steps alone? It reminded me of Burroughs's saying 
 it was no use making inquiries of the lovers he met in 
 the English lanes. They had always just heard the 
 
 nightingale! 
 
 Your 
 
 MOCKING-BIRD. 
 
 To PROP. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 Dear, dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Our hearts have been very heavy for you since Friday, 
 when your letter came. 
 
 And that you should have been called upon to bear 
 such an irreparable loss, alone away from home and 
 the others, who knew and loved him. 
 
 When we stand helplessly and see a dear friend enter 
 into a great sorrow we are like those who saw Moses go 
 up on to Sinai we can see the clouds and the light- 
 ning, but he hears the voice of God. 
 
 I know it is so with you and thank you for telling 
 us about your brother.
 
 334 1901 
 
 How beautiful Death must be to such as he! 
 
 The pure spirit must flow 
 
 Back to the burning fountain whence it came ; 
 
 A portion of the Eternal that must glow 
 
 Through time and change, unquenchingly the same. 
 
 But oh! it doesn't make the human loss and need less 
 bitter, I know. 
 
 One just has to rest heavily on G-od's will. 
 
 The beauty about you will bring its own message of 
 peace, and Christmas time is full of light for "those 
 who sit in the valley of the shadow." 
 
 Paulina sends her tenderest sympathy. She is busy 
 running up and down from St. Andrew's and trimming 
 
 our own tree. 
 
 Ever faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 33 335 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Christmas Day, 1901. M. M. W. died. 
 
 Men are more truly measured by their fellows when 
 life closes than at any other time. The trumpet note 
 of the Saviour's praise echoes to earth and for the mo- 
 ment drowns, with its jubilance and beauty, the petty 
 criticism, the false and disproportionate judgments that 
 blind us to true human worth. We hear in our souls 
 the verdict of God, and we cannot but admit that it is 
 true.
 
 336 1902 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 January 26th. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Your letter came yesterday and was a great comfort 
 to us all. You are in the deep waters and know how 
 strange its ebbings and Sowings are how at one time 
 the waves seem to close over one's head, while at others 
 there is a great calm. 
 
 And in the midmost heart of grief 
 Thy passion clasps a secret joy. 
 
 No, indeed, ' ' those whom we lose by death do not 
 quit us all at once," or rather, it is as if we, too, went a 
 little way with them and caught a reflex of the ineffa- 
 ble vision. 
 
 It is the coming back alone the daily missing. 
 
 But our loneliness is shot thro' and thro' with a sense 
 of peace and gladness. 
 
 His going was so quiet and painless so merciful and 
 inevitable. After that first stroke it was death that 
 seemed life to us and that last day was so like him 
 quiet and unselfish giving no trouble. Did Paulina 
 tell you how he called out ' ' Merry Christmas " to 
 Mamma over the stairs just half an hour before he 
 asked her to come into his room and said he must have 
 had a stroke? He was quiet and calm said he had no 
 pain and hoped Dickson and the children would come 
 in just the same to their dinner and tree. Then he fell 
 asleep and passed into unconsciousness and death. 
 
 Poor Mamma he was her only brother and had shared 
 all her joys and sorrows. He was like a son to Papa
 
 Aet. 33 337 
 
 and since his death has lived with us going quietly to 
 and from his work * ' standing by " as he would have 
 called it surrounding all our lives with an atmos- 
 phere of silent sympathy and protection. 
 
 And his pleasures were so quiet: beyond the profes- 
 sion which he loved he wanted nothing but his books, 
 a long drive or tramp with a friend, and his life among 
 us all, where he loved best to sit as amused spec- 
 tator. Oh, if we had only told him oftener how much 
 we cared! We children couldn't remember the time 
 before his kindness began and he was so modest and 
 self-effacing that only now, in the large light of death, 
 do we fully realize the full beauty of that life of unself- 
 ish devotion, of faithfulness to every trust. "In true 
 humility he stood firm, in simple obedience he lived, 
 in charity and patience he walked." 
 
 He was gentle in his judgments; dumb in the expres- 
 sion of emotion; very pitiful to the young or helpless 
 or unprotected. Pain for those he loved seemed to 
 wring his very soul. What he has done and felt for 
 me all these years but I don't dare dwell on that. 
 
 And Dickson, who has always had him in his work 
 as counsellor and friend, says he feels as if he had lost 
 his father for the second time. 
 
 His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
 Of kindness and of love. 
 
 They were always acts not words. Under the tu- 
 mults on the surface there are always lives like these 
 the anchor-lives. And it has been so comforting to find 
 how many appreciated what he was not only the old 
 classmates and companions the boys and girls who 
 had grown up about him and always called him "Uncle
 
 338 1902 
 
 Melly " but the servants who worked here, and all the 
 clients, who feel as if they had lost a dear friend. 
 
 It would have surprised him greatly. 
 
 Mamma bears this trouble as she always bears 
 trouble, so bravely and quietly never thinking of 
 herself. Wherever she is there may be sadness, but no 
 gloom, and she loves to dwell on the past with as many 
 smiles as tears. And how dear the past shines out at 
 such times. Indeed, grief seems to test the real things 
 of life, doesn't it? not to rob us of joy, but to add a 
 new depth and glow to everything, however small, that 
 really reaches down to the eternal source of things 
 
 human and divine. 
 
 * 
 
 Pleasures seem tawdry but joy, friendship, the 
 beauty of the world, even one's daily bread, seem sacred. 
 
 I can understand your deepened interest in Rome. 
 
 Do you remember the passage from ' ' Robert Fal- 
 coner"? "To the God of the human heart nothing 
 that ever has been a joy, a grief, a passing interest, 
 can ever cease to be what it has been; there is no fading 
 at the breath of time, no parsing away of fashion, no 
 dimming of old memories in the heart of Him whose 
 being creates Time." 
 
 I am so glad you knew my uncle a little in his home 
 
 life. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To LADY BEAUMONT. 
 
 March 26th, 1902. 
 Dearest Lady Beaumont, 
 
 Your letter came last night and was a great comfort. 
 All you said was so true so true of my dear uncle
 
 Aet. 33 339 
 
 and of what is the most poignant part of our grief of 
 not letting him know more all he was to us while we 
 still had him of the great miss his going would leave 
 in our lives and yet we try not to dwell too much on 
 our loneliness, or our own imperfections in the irreme- 
 diable past. 
 
 It is a comfort to think of that good, unselfish life 
 having so peaceful a going home, and when we look 
 about us and see how, to many, the will of God must 
 be groped for in storm and darkness, we cannot be too 
 grateful that to us it came so graciously. 
 
 And we thank God, not only for his death, but the 
 whole life he lived among us and the example he has left. 
 
 " In true humility he stood firm, in simple obedience 
 he lived, in charity and patience he walked." 
 
 Mamma is as brave and unselfish as she always is 
 taking her sorrow straight from God's hands and cast- 
 ing no shadow on those about her but the loss is a 
 very, very heavy one. 
 
 All his life Uncle Melly had shared her joys and sor- 
 rows, and she had no other brother or sister. 
 
 But we have Dickson and what that means to us 
 words cannot tell. We are building him a simple house 
 on our little Manchester place, so that he can be with 
 us and yet not separated from his own wife and babies. 
 
 They are all very happy over it. 
 
 Last month we spent having the "grippe," and I 
 think it will be a really good thing in the end for 
 Mamma, as it made her take the rest and care she 
 needed. 
 
 And Easter is coming with its great message. 
 
 Lovingly, 
 
 ALICE W. S.
 
 34:0 1902 
 
 SUMMER OF 1902. BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 
 Ring sudden laughters of the Jay. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 The early Redstart twittering through the woods. 
 
 WALT WHITMAN. 
 
 Song birds in every furrow. 
 
 HEYWOOD. 
 May 11, Sunday. 
 
 Waked by a great shrieking of Jay and Crows, appar- 
 ently in my tree, and find the suet gone. Ice still in 
 the bird pool, but get out at nine o'clock and see in the 
 first twenty minutes Blue Jay, Crows, Indigo-bird and 
 Boy Nuthatch, both eating on table, Chickadee, our 
 first, Parula in hemlock hedge and my tree pursued 
 playfully by Black- throated Green; then, like a bright 
 butterfly, fluttering all about the mound pines, our first 
 Redstart, and at the same time, buzzing across the 
 piazza and seated facing me in the hemlocks, our first 
 Ruby-throated Humming-bird: in all eight birds, and 
 three of them new. Later see the Black-and-white 
 Warbler repeatedly, and my first Chestnut-sided War- 
 bler in my tree; also one Swallow. Mrs. Nuthatch 
 eats hemp on the cracks of her favorite piazza post 
 and two Nuthatches, boy and girl, take to coming to- 
 gether, but no little, dingy, black-headed Father Nut- 
 hatch. 
 
 Driven in by the cold at eleven o'clock, and see after- 
 wards nothing new but Chippy and a Robin hopping all 
 about the bird-table my first. Hear the Purple Finch 
 warbling about among the near pine tops long and loud .
 
 Aet. 33 341 
 
 Two young Nuthatches courting the little girl beg- 
 ging to be fed with quivering wings. See Chestnut- 
 sides pruning himself on his own oak. At sunset 
 a glorious duet between Wood Thrushes, apparently 
 near. 
 
 May 18, Sunday. 
 
 One bright May morning in a world of song. 
 
 We looked out early to see all the uninvited guests: 
 a Crow eating suet, the red Squirrel and the big gray 
 one with the ostrich feather tail, in possession of the 
 piazza, and a Jay in my oak tree. Later the legitimate 
 mealers arrive, Nuthatches, Chickadees and Indigo-bird, 
 while the Oven-bird eats crumbs in the garden path. 
 At noon two Indigo-birds fly into my tree together and 
 sing and dash at each other, but the old bright one 
 doesn't allow the new, younger, browner one to land on 
 the table. 
 
 Get out at five o'clock to a Robin-Thrush concert. 
 See the Wood Thrush two or three times, and Chippy 
 in my tree and eating on the garden path with the In- 
 digo-bird. My first big brown Hare hops about under 
 the hemlocks. 
 
 May 25. 
 
 O birds that warble in the morning sky, 
 
 O birds that warble as the days go by, 
 
 Sing sweetly. 
 
 What dream ye, as they utter forth May music growing with the 
 
 growing light, 
 Their sweet sun worship. 
 
 TENNYSON.
 
 342 1902 
 
 Of moonlight nights and rosy dawns 
 
 And a nest in a hawthorn tree ; 
 
 Of the little mate for whom I wait 
 
 Flying across the sea. 
 
 Through storm and night, as sure as fate, 
 
 Swift- winged with love for me. 
 
 Whippoorwill shouts again at dawn. Indigo-bird sits 
 on the nasturtium box and chirps loudly for his break- 
 fast. See Black-and-white Creeper, Wood Pewee, both 
 Nuthatches, and then the Chickadees. One goes to the 
 little house, while the other lands three times on the nut 
 dish in my hand! ! ! the only time any bird ever did it but 
 dear lost " Father Nuthatch." At breakfast time Mrs. 
 Tanager lands in my oak and takes wicking in her beak 
 from a twig; then sits on the lower piazza rail trying to 
 get at the longer strings while her Scarlet husband 
 watches her from the crooked pine. Then they both 
 come together in my oak. 
 
 Then Mrs. Redstart and Mrs. Black-throated Green 
 both come together into my oak and pull at the wicking, 
 and Mrs. Redstart hops all along the piazza rail, while 
 Mrs. Black-throated Green lands on my feet and hops 
 slowly up to my knees as I lie on the sofa, and then sits 
 for a few moments looking fearlessly at me with her 
 bright eyes. 
 
 See also Mr. Redstart Messrs. Black-throated Green 
 in great numbers, Pine Warbler and Chestnut-sided 
 Warblers, two Robins come into my tree, and Red-eyed 
 Vireos innumerable. See besides, Blue Jay and Swifts 
 and Chippy feeding on the path, Towhee on the sumach, 
 Yellow- throated Vireo on the crooked pine and Oven- 
 bird in his flight-song: in all eighteen kinds of birds,
 
 Aet. 33 343 
 
 and most of them over and over again, but no Wood 
 Thrushes, who sing close about me, invisible now that 
 " leaves are large and long." Cedar Waxwings fly over 
 and Goldfinches constantly, but not near enough to 
 count. Tanagers come back a dozen times, he to the 
 mound, crooked pine, oak scrubs, and she to hemlock 
 hedge, sumachs, my tree, and wicking upstairs and 
 down. 
 
 June Y. 
 
 What is so raw as a day in June? 
 
 Out in the cold wind five hours. A Bob White whis- 
 tles at dawn, and both Chippies and a very Blue Jay 
 come to pick up the crumbs I sprinkle on the path 
 before breakfast. See the Chestnut- sided Warbler at 
 last, and Pine and Black-and-white and male Black- 
 throated Greens. Lots of little pairs rushing through 
 the air, constantly chirping and calling. Hear the faint 
 warbling of a Purple Finch and the constant, sharp, 
 sparkling song of Indigo-birds. See Indigo-bird, both 
 Nuthatches, Robins, Swifts, Vireos, Oven-bird in the 
 middle of his flight-song, and Towhee shouting in the 
 mound trees, the beauty! A rainy afternoon, with 
 the Robins and Thrushes singing through it. 
 
 They love their mates to whom they sing, or else the songs that 
 
 meet 
 The morning with such music would never be so sweet. 
 
 The sweetest broken music all about. 
 
 June 18. 
 
 Yesterday Paulina saw on a small tree a group of six 
 Chickadees, all apparently grown. Could they be an
 
 344 1902 
 
 early brood ? And to have " A " wait on " Q " my pair of 
 Chickadees come constantly to the table today, grabbing 
 up every sort of eatable, including the meal worms, 
 and we see that they have a little family sitting on the 
 mound sumachs being fed, just like their parents, only 
 with shorter tails, yellower beak-fastenings, squattier 
 attitudes and more whimpery voices. It is just three 
 weeks and one day since the date given for their nest- 
 ing. Darling Mrs. Black-throated Green sits on the 
 chair-back close to me, while her husband and brothers 
 sing. Saw the Wood Thrush again singing on a pine 
 top. See my first Chipmunk eating very cunningly on 
 the garden path. 
 
 June 22, Sunday. 
 
 Beautiful after a pouring rain. Hear on the hillside 
 for the first time a Maryland Yellowthroat, while a 
 Chipmunk sits like "the Statue and the Bust" at a 
 corner of the piazza. The Chickadees made a day nurs- 
 ery for their babies out of my tree, piazza rail and bird- 
 table, driving off all the other birds they dare attack. 
 The smutty little parent takes twenty worms from my 
 hand, and one baby takes his first independent bite of 
 suet, while another coughs out a too big bit of nut, 
 holds it firmly between his little blue feet and devours 
 it in a grown-up way. One of the female Nuthatches 
 eats shyly from a seed dish held by Bessie and one lands 
 again on the whip I am waving. 
 
 June 23. 
 
 In the pines the thrush is waking ; 
 Lo, yon orient hill in flames ! 
 
 ARNOLD.
 
 Aet. 33 345 
 
 A Thrush sings in a glorious day. Out twelve hours. 
 Male Nuthatch comes half a dozen times to feed, but the 
 two females, constantly flying at each other and being 
 flown at by the parent Chickadees, who have their little 
 family here all day. "Smutty" eats constantly from 
 my hand. Squirrels, red, gray and striped, use my 
 tree as goal in a constant game of hide-and-seek, and I 
 see on the path below Chippy and Blue Jay, Chippy 
 and Oven-bird, Robin, Oven-bird and Wood Thrush. 
 
 June 24:. 
 
 Glorious day, with the Whippoorwill loud at dawn. 
 Smutty Chickadee, tamer than ever, flies constantly to 
 and fro from my hand, as I lie on the sofa feeding his 
 babies with the last of his first hundred meal worms, or 
 coaxing for still one more by sitting on the piazza, rail 
 and whistling soft "Phoebe;" when they are quite 
 gone he sits half a dozen times on my chair-back, look- 
 ing reproachfully, while one of his babies sits on the 
 table in my lap. The babies feed themselves a little. 
 A Goldfinch, in a very yellow waistcoat and black cap, 
 sits swinging on Paulina's oak, and a male Redstart 
 flies into my tree. See the Oven-bird in the midst of 
 his exquisite flight-song five times, the first at high 
 noon, and Indigo-bird, and Nuthatches, and Chippies, 
 Black-throated Greens, Red-eyed Vireos, Swifts. Hear 
 the loud whistling of an Oriole on the hillside for a long 
 time, but the Towhee has stopped his song these last 
 few days and Indigo sings less. Smutty tamer than 
 ever, in the late afternoon over the new relay of meal 
 worms. Once a baby lands with him on my hand. 
 See Pine Warbler, and a bird that looks a little like 
 him, with a green waistcoat?? Then my first Baby
 
 34:6 1902 
 
 Robin comes hopping up the road, turns his apology of 
 a tail, and shows his mottled, woolly back, and flutters 
 off bravely. (Out twelve hours.) 
 
 July 5. 
 
 His ravishing carol rang 
 
 From the topmost twig he made his home. 
 
 At 10.30 my darling little Indigo returns to his canary 
 seed, but poor little " Dowager " Nuthatch has a bloody 
 wound on her shoulder to prevent too much rejoicing 
 over the prodigal mealer. Indigo sings again. See our 
 first White-breasted Nuthatch (policeman type) after 
 nearly two years, in the pines, my tree and piazza rail. 
 Smutty whistles "Phoebe," as he sits on my hand, 
 and a Baby Chickadee lands on my head!!! 
 
 See among the Oven-birds one " discrowned," un- 
 doubtedly Baby Oven-bird. Female Tanager, after many 
 weeks, Wood Thrushes singing in the crooked pine, one 
 at noon and one at sunset, and saw besides eight other 
 kinds of birds. My tree a perfect " day nursery " now 
 and the birds that aren't feeding babies seem to be sing- 
 ing madrigals. 
 
 July 30. 
 
 Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, 
 Among her nestlings sits the thrush ; 
 Her faithful mate will share her toil, 
 Or wi' his song her cares beguile. 
 
 A number of Thrushes fly up from the ground, and 
 one Baby Thrush sits on a distant pine branch and then 
 flies straight to my tree, and stays quite still, eyeing me, 
 spotty and brown and solemn!!
 
 Aet. 33 347 
 
 A great to-do among the Thrushes and Robins for a 
 couple of hours. Saw sixteen other kinds of familiar 
 birds and one unknown, small, dark bird, with a 
 large light moth in his beak, at the tip of the crooked 
 pine. In the lovely cool sunset a great alarum of 
 Thrushes, and a little sweet Thrush music, but no flight- 
 songs these many days. 
 
 October 28. 
 
 The woods are hushed, their music is no more, 
 The leaf is dead, the yearning past away ; 
 New leaf, new life, the days of frost are o'er ; 
 New life, new love, to suit the newer day. 
 New loves are sweet as those that went before. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 A heavy Sou'- Wester after a howling night. Saw 
 only Chickadees eating at the "Granary," through 
 closed door and window, and could not bid Smutty 
 good-bye. 
 
 Left Manchester at half past eight thro' roads filled 
 almost with a sunset glow from oaks and beeches, 
 maples still flaming among them. I personally saw this 
 year, as well as last, sixty-one kinds of birds, but this 
 year forty of them were in my tree. 
 
 The Juncos were very late and few, only singing a 
 little one day, and I saw no Pine Siskins or migrant 
 Thrushes, but the Chickadees, especially Smutty, more 
 than made up for everything. 
 
 God keep all the little bird people under the shadow 
 of His wing.
 
 34:8 1902 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Tuesday Morn. 
 Darling Twiney, 
 
 We are getting along beautifully beautifully ; that 
 is, considering it is a gray world without its Sun, Moon 
 and Stars. 
 
 You don't know what a comfort it is having that dear 
 old Jim purring about. He came yesterday on the 4.30 
 and went up with Dickson this morning. 
 
 He "locked up " last night and tho' he had never be- 
 fore fanned out a lamp, thought he would be able to 
 manage somehow. He is to come and go at his own 
 free will, only we have told him that, like the fool in 
 Lear, we "go to bed at noon." 
 
 Yes, I saw Di the first hour last evening, and then 
 Mamma left Kitty and me in Jim's care while she saw 
 Mr. Lothrop, who came up to see how we were getting 
 along and to inquire for Jenny Paine. Aren't they 
 kind and dear and human? Apropos of human we 
 have been the rather ungracious hostesses of a lost pet 
 kitten afraid it would get wonted here, afraid Nancy 
 would get fond of it. Yesterday outriders some on 
 Peanuts were sent out to all the neighbors, in vain. 
 Then Mary Ann heard a rumor that the George Lees 
 had lost their kitten and started out at eight o'clock last 
 evening tenderly carrying the fur waif and escorted by 
 the gallant William. Great joy all round. When I 
 thanked Mary Ann and she is the human link of my 
 sentence, with her droppings of warm tears, "Why," 
 said she, " I'd walk five miles any time to take anybody 
 their lost cat; I know how they're feeling."
 
 Aet. 33 , 349 
 
 Then we all hugged Sansge and she spit at Mary Ann! 
 
 I enclose one of Mr. Allen's many post cards because 
 it contains more than a date, and may lighten your 
 guilty conscience. 
 
 Whom do you think he went to see in his shop? And 
 had a heart to heart talk with, but Kensit himself! 
 
 Think of my speaking of that mysterious man every 
 time I write. 
 
 Did you know he had a shop and really sold things 
 when not in personal combat with the ritualistic foe? 
 
 My dear love to Mrs. Higginson and Ellen. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Thursday Morn. 
 
 But then, you know, darling, you're not the Fool in 
 Lear, but Kent and a little homesick sometimes, I 
 hope, for your domineering charge? who is none so 
 crazy yet that she seeks an open heath in a thunder- 
 storm. 
 
 And, by the way, this is our first rainy day, and I am 
 in the sunparlor with Kitty. Usually she stays uncom- 
 plainingly here alone, eats her breakfast, plays in her 
 paper house and then puts herself to sleep on the bed 
 with her head against the pillows. When her 'lations 
 finally turn up, instead of reproaches, she greets them 
 with soft purrings and paws going in and out with 
 ecstasy. I wish I could give you as good an account of 
 "Bullen," but, along with his prickly pink cheeks, he 
 has developed a prickly pink temper, so I have put the 
 " Admiral " in with little " Giant Slay Cat." And out 
 of doors I wish I could see anything so thrilling as a 
 Vesper Sparrow and a Meadow-lark, but alas, for Ellen 
 Emmons and her ten strikes! it never was so birdless.
 
 350 1902 
 
 Some days I haven't had a single warbler and even the 
 Chippies think of leaving me to change their garish 
 clothes for something more suitable to travel in! 
 
 We complained that your letter, postmarked ' ' Man- 
 chester, 5.30 Monday afternoon," didn't reach us till 
 the afternoon of Tuesday, so last night we got your 
 Monday letter without any Manchester postmark at all. 
 Got us there! But what do you think of their sending 
 me a letter directed "Allen's Notion Store," as near 
 enough to Alice Weston Smith for all practical pur- 
 poses? Elinor went off into mischievous laughter, and 
 seemed to think they had builded better than they 
 knew. 
 
 Congratulate us on having finished "Sir Harry 
 Smith." After we had staggered through battle after 
 battle Mamma and I decided that our genius is not 
 purely military. 
 
 We clung to such items as this about his horse: " On 
 the anniversary of the Battle of Aliwal when there was 
 always a full-dress dinner at the General's house, some 
 one would propose Aliwal's health, and the beautiful 
 creature would be led all round the dinner- table, glit- 
 tering with plate, lights and uniforms, and he would 
 be quite quiet, only giving a snort now and then, tho' 
 when his health had been drunk and the groom had led 
 him out you could hear him on the gravel prancing and 
 capering" ("Just like Peanuts," murmured Gamdge, 
 much emue\ and when Sir Harry, fearing his old age 
 might be unhappy, shot him himself, both he and the 
 faithful groom in tears, "and that night Sir Harry's 
 place was vacant at dinner, " Gamdge and I had to stop 
 for a while. Gamdge is a tender-hearted person after 
 all. I wish you could have heard her choking over the
 
 Aet. 33 351 
 
 Indian battles the horse was in, and when she got to 
 the end of the epitaph, "He was 22 years old; never 
 was sick during the 18 years in Sir Harry's possession. 
 As a charger he was incomparable; gallant and docile; 
 as a friend he was affectionate and faithful," she 
 broke down completely. 
 
 On the other hand when I wanted to wake her up at 
 one o'clock last night, because then your visit would be 
 half over, she seemed to think sleep was more than sen- 
 timent. Have you and Ellen, by the way, read "Love 
 making old and new," in the last "Spectator "? It 
 is delightful. 
 
 Doesn't the length of this epistle make you a little bit 
 ashamed of your shabby, one-sheet affairs? It is my 
 last, however. After this my energies must be spent in 
 getting those pink paper-cotton shirts and white cot- 
 ton-wool beards with which Gamdge and I are going to 
 pop over the piazza rail at you Monday or Tuesday 
 night. 
 
 What is home without a Mauvaise? 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 The Bird Cage. A Drama in Five Acts. 
 Act V. 
 
 Scene V. (An untidy room, Mrs. S. soliloquizing.) 
 Let me see Do the married pair bathe in a big tub, 
 and which is little Cock? 
 
 (Enter Katie bearing clean trays.) 
 
 Oh, Nellie, perhaps you can tell me where I took 
 these perches from (addressing some one invisible).
 
 352 1902 
 
 Don't get flurried Grandmother is slow but sure 
 I shan't give that dirty Throstle another minute. 
 
 There (in loud tones of triumph), we're all done, 
 though (in a more doubtful voice) I don't know where 
 these little perches go, and there seems to be a food-dish 
 on the hall bureau. 
 
 (Clock strikes eleven outside.) 
 
 (Curtain.) 
 
 After this, what need of an invisible cap to look 
 in upon your home? 
 
 Meanwhile the Dominion quietly reposes in the sun- 
 parlor. 
 
 I am not weaned. 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY 0. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 I hoped to have a few red roses to make a little glow 
 of welcome in your study when you arrived but alas, 
 I don't know whether your house will be open before- 
 hand or even if you come directly to Cambridge on 
 landing. So will you please try to feel that the roses 
 are there to say what I can't say at such a moment? 
 
 Paulina gets back from a ten days' visit at Lake 
 Champlain tomorrow, and very soon I hope we shall 
 have you here and those old discussions on High Church 
 and Low on Pauline and Petrine can begin again 
 under the bright Autumn skies and colouring leaves.
 
 Aet. 33 353 
 
 Manchester is putting on her prettiest looks to greet 
 you. 
 
 Always affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Sunday, September 7th. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 Tuesday, September 9. 
 My darling Ethel, 
 
 This is just to give you a pen-and-ink hug till you 
 come within closer range. 
 
 I am a great deal better, and Paulina is home from 
 the lake, and Jim Storrow is with us. 
 
 There's all my news in a breath, except that your 
 being safe at home again throws over our shores and 
 wooded hillsides a still brighter glory the light that 
 
 never was on sea or land. 
 
 Always yours, 
 
 NANNY.
 
 354 1902 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 November 10th, 1902. Her birthday. 
 
 . God, who art the unsearchable abyss of peace, the 
 ineffable sea of love, the fountain of blessings, and the 
 bestower of affection; who sendst peace to those that 
 receive it; open to us this day the Sea of Thy Love, and 
 water us with plenteous streams from the riches of Thy 
 grace. 
 
 Make us children of quietness and heirs of peace. 
 
 Enkindle in us the fire of Thy love, strengthen our 
 weakness by Thy power ; bind us closely to Thee and to 
 each other in one firm and indissoluble bond of Unity. 
 From the Syrian Clementine Liturgy (Second Century). 
 
 Mr. Nash speaks of Christianity as the power to be 
 glad against all odds. 
 
 Mysticism is man's insistence that he should see the 
 
 unseen with his own eyes. 
 
 NASH.
 
 Aet. 34 355 
 
 To MR. CHARLES HOPKINSON. 
 
 (Nov. 30) Sunday. 
 Dear, dear Mr. Hopkinson, 
 
 I need not wish you joy, need I? But I want to tell 
 you how happy Elinor's happiness has made us all. 
 
 It seemed to me this morning that the sun hadn't 
 shone so brightly for many a day. And we thought of 
 you two at Manchester, and your welcome into the warm 
 heart of that great household, and the world seemed a 
 more beautiful place to live in. 
 
 Why, Elinor and I have been friends since we were 
 seven years old, and I have loved her better every 
 day. 
 
 I needn't tell you what she is, you know, but 
 in all my joys and sorrows, and still more in all the 
 little doings of every day, her strong affection her 
 tenderness and truth, and high ideal of duty have 
 been one of the anchors of my life and she is so 
 pleasant! 
 
 Indeed, the future must look very bright to you 
 and the world will be brighter for her happiness. She 
 has always shared her best and now we feel as if we 
 had all tasted of the great cup of joy that God has put 
 into her hands. 
 
 It is all so strange and yet so natural. I feel as if 
 our friendship yours and mine, I mean which be- 
 gan yesterday, had somehow got roots back into the 
 past. 
 
 Your and Elinor's 
 
 Affectionate old friend, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 356 1902 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 (Dec. 27.) 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 I can't tell you how much Paulina and I cared about 
 your present. I think you must know what it means 
 to us to have it. And apart from all the associations it 
 is so lovely in itself, with my favorite branch and bird 
 life come to brighten winter. 
 
 I shall have it hung where I can rest my eyes on it 
 as I lie in bed. 
 
 Christmas time is always so full of Mr. Brooks 
 fuller even than Easter because the tree at Trinity, 
 and his giving out the presents, is one of my clearest 
 childish recollections. And the last times he came to 
 see me were on December 28th, ten years ago tomorrow 
 and January 14th. 
 
 The Christmas light that first shone on those that 
 "sat in darkness and the shadow of death" was still 
 with us all, I think, when he left us. 
 
 Next week I hope you will be able to come up some 
 morning? 
 
 In the meanwhile give my dear love to your mother 
 and believe me, 
 
 Always and always, 
 
 Yours with true affection, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 Aet. 34 357 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 WEARY. 
 
 I would have gone, God bade me stay ; 
 I would have worked, God bade me rest ; 
 He broke my will from day to day ; 
 He read my yearnings unexpressed, 
 
 And said me nay. 
 
 Now I would stay, God bids me go ; 
 Now I would rest, God bids me work. 
 He breaks my heart tossed to and fro, 
 My soul is wrung with doubts that lurk 
 
 And vex us so ! 
 
 CHRISTINA ROSSETTI. 
 
 Thou, my dear heart, no more I see; 
 Not all alone I wander by ; 
 For Hope and Heart-break walk with me 
 Twin-children they of Love's good-bye. 
 When dim-eyed Heart-break weeps the loss 
 Of some fair nest the winds let fall, 
 Hope shows me boughs that make the cross 
 Against blue sky, high over all. 
 
 I said, I awoke; after some more sleepings and wak- 
 ings I shall lie on this mattress sick, then dead, and 
 through my gay entry they shall carry these bones. 
 Where shah 1 I he then? I lifted my head and beheld 
 the spotless orange light and the morning beaming 
 up from the dark hills into the wide universe. 
 
 From Emerson's Journal. 
 
 I go, Lord, when Thou sendest me ; 
 Day after day I plod and moil. 
 But Christ, my Lord, when will it be 
 That I may let alone my toil 
 And rest with Thee ?
 
 358 1903 
 
 Let not him that seeketh cease from his search until 
 he find, and when he finds he shall wonder, wondering 
 he shall reach the Kingdom, and when he reaches the 
 Kingdom he shall rest. Saying of Jesus.
 
 Aet. 34 359 
 
 To MR. ROBERT TREAT PAINE. 
 
 (January 25.) 
 Dear Mr. Paine, 
 
 What a touching tribute! It reminded me of a bit 
 in one of the sermons, ' ' In his own circle, in the city 
 where he lives, it seems as if he were more powerful 
 when he is seen no more upon the streets than when 
 men met him every day. There has been, as it were, 
 a descent of his spirit, a Pentecost of his departed pres- 
 ence. 
 
 "This is the difference of men those whose power 
 stops with their death and those whose power really 
 opens its true richness when they die, and the final test 
 and witness of spiritual force is seen in the ability to 
 cast the bodily life away and yet continue to give help 
 and courage and wisdom to those who see us no longer; 
 to be like Christ, the helper of men's souls even from 
 beyond the grave." 
 
 How beautiful it all was on Friday, ' ' and they that 
 turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and 
 ever." 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 Sunday. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Wednesday Noon. 
 
 Well, my darling Cinderella, how do you feel so far 
 from the domestic ashes? And do you pretend that 
 the glass slippers " don't bind you anywhere "? 
 
 Your letter hasn't come yet, but then we shall know
 
 360 1903 
 
 just how and where you eat that lunch and what 
 birds of passage you saw flying north and who met 
 you. 
 
 Why didn't we have you telegraph, or were we look- 
 ing long at a quarter? 
 
 u Gray Rose," very busy over her nest, stops to send 
 her passionate love. Yesterday, after a full bath in 
 her water dish, which was full of diluted whiskey, she 
 sang her hymn. Kitty says, " Lady Henry Somerset 
 must know about this." She also sends love to her 
 
 own dear Mauvaise. 
 
 AUNTY NAN.
 
 Aet. 34 361 
 
 SUMMER OF 1903. BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 
 If a bird's nest chance to be before thee on the ground, 
 or before thee on the way in any tree, whether there 
 are young ones or eggs, and the dam sitting upon the 
 young or upon the eggs, thou shalt not take the dam 
 with the young, but shalt in any wise let the dam go, 
 that it may be well with thee and that thou mayest 
 prolong thy days. DEUTERONOMY, xxii, 6, 7. 
 
 THE FIRST SPRING DAY. 
 
 I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, 
 If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, 
 If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun, 
 And crocus fires are kindling one by one. 
 
 Sing, Robin, sing. 
 
 I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring ; 
 The sap will surely quicken soon or late, 
 The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate, 
 So Spring must dawn again, with warmth and bloom, 
 Or in this world or in the world to come. 
 
 Sing, voice of Spring, 
 Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing. 
 
 CHRISTINA ROSSETTI. 
 
 And the hills shall break forth before you into singing. 
 
 In the limpid days of Spring, 
 
 Elder boughs were budding yet, 
 
 Oaken boughs looked wintry still ; 
 
 But primrose and veined violet 
 
 In the moss-ful turf were set ; 
 
 While meeting birds made haste to sing 
 
 And build with right good will. 
 
 CHRISTINA ROSSETTI.
 
 362 1903 
 
 May Day. (The Month of Music.) 
 
 Opens cold and windy. Hear before breakfast the 
 Towhee loud on the hillside and see Black-and-white 
 Warbler. Get out after breakfast for seven and a half 
 hours. A Chickadee flies into my tree, hops on to the 
 bird-table and eats from his own familiar dish a little 
 later comes fluttering over to me, sits on my finger 
 and takes a meal-worm my own Smutty. Comes 
 three times more to my hand the darling. We 
 hear what we think is the Pine Warbler, the rich war- 
 bling of a Purple Finch, some unknown calls, and a 
 loud, squeaking note from the mound. See my Chippy 
 in my tree. Paulina takes a bird-walk in the afternoon 
 and sees three Purple Finches, two males and a female, 
 and one Black-throated Green Warbler singing. At 
 five o'clock a dear little Black- throated Green comes and 
 sits about on the bare twigs of my oaks so that I may 
 see him too. Less singing today. 
 
 Or amorous birds perched on the young green spray. 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 May 20. 
 
 Exquisite and cooler. Showery afternoon. Out ten 
 hours. Hear early a loud unfamiliar chirp and two 
 new songs, one like a flat Purple Finch and the other of 
 the whistling kind. A glorious Magnolia Warbler flies 
 from Paulina's oak to mine, and flies about there at 
 great length with little Parula; then we see at once 
 the first Blackpoll and the first Blackburnian and four 
 familiar warblers everywhere, Yellow-throated Vireos, 
 Goldfinches in the crooked pine again and again. Bal- 
 timore Oriole (in the King-bird's oak), a Grackle flying
 
 Aet. 34 363 
 
 over, a bird hopping up the rock beyond the barberry 
 tangle smaller than Thrush and larger than Oven-bird, 
 brownish, unstreaked back, without wing-bars, and 
 vaguely spottish waistcoat. See twenty-three kinds of 
 birds in all. 
 
 Blackpoll and Magnolia appear again and again. 
 Hear the Pewee's voice for the first time this year. 
 Chestnut-sides pulls at the wicking below. Smutty ex- 
 amines the little green bird-house. Sup out among the 
 mosquitoes to the music of Wood Thrushes and distant 
 Whippoorwills. See an Oven-bird's flight-song. 
 
 In russet she and he in yellow, 
 Singing ever clear and mellow, 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, sweet, you sweet you. 
 
 KINGSLEY. 
 
 May 27. 
 
 Waked, as usual, by Downy knocking on the crooked 
 pine, but the dawn chorus is less full this last week. 
 Yesterday little Phoebe Chickadee gathered wicking 
 while Smutty sat on the little bird-house porch and 
 whistled softly to her. Today they seem indifferent. 
 Black-throated Green landed on the bird-table. Saw the 
 dear Yellow- throated Vireo again; Blue Jay, Flicker 
 and the Goldfinches, who come three times into my tree, 
 the sumachs, etc., and talk sweetly to each other. Be- 
 sides see eleven kinds of familiar birds, but not my 
 Indigo today, usually so faithful. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 Pouring at dawn after a pouring night. Alas! my 
 little Dickories! Hear clamourous baby voices and see
 
 364 1903 
 
 my first young Chickadees being fed in the oak scrub by 
 their dripping father. Later they are on my tree con- 
 stantly, not so short-tailed as last year, but round, with 
 stubby tails and blue boots. It clears in the afternoon 
 and I get out for three hours. See a baby Red Squirrel 
 in my tree (with a round head and hardly any ears), the 
 baby Chippies and their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Indigo, 
 and Oven-bird, and Goldfinches and Robins. Hear a 
 Catbird's mew. Lots of flight-songs from the Teacher 
 bird!! 
 
 June 25. 
 
 Opens rainy after a rainy night. Surf high and "the 
 noise as of a hidden brook in the leafy month of June " 
 like the noise of the water floods! Thrushes more than 
 ever and later a Purple Finch sings of the human side of 
 joy. A male Humming-bird comes squeaking into the 
 window nasturtiums and comes again. My first Cat- 
 bird flits about the oak scrub mewing and then sits in 
 my tree and returns to it later; apparently longs to 
 eat on path, but doesn't, that I see. Mr. and Mrs. In- 
 digo come and Oven-bird, Mr. and Mrs. Black-throated 
 Green and les families Chickadee and Chippy; one of 
 the latter hops on my piazza floor, at length. Kept 
 indoors all the damp day. It tries to clear at sunset. 
 
 July 18. 
 
 Beneath the safety of her wings. 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 Moved in before lunch and saw little. The Chestnut- 
 sided Warbler family young and old hop in the 
 barberry tangle. The first Baby Oven-bird feeds on
 
 Aet. 34 365 
 
 the path with his mother. (Is it the thought of this 
 little group that later makes the male ' ' at heaven's 
 gate sing? ") 
 
 See besides Song-sparrow on the path Indigo-bird, the 
 1 'three regular mealers," both Mr. and Mrs. Hummer, 
 Black-and-white Creeper, Swifts and Goldfinches, and 
 the offish Nuthatches. Thrushes glorious. 
 
 Sept. 23. 
 
 There is a Power whose care 
 
 Teaches thy way along that pathless coast, 
 
 The desert and illimitable air, 
 
 Lone wandering, but not lost. 
 
 A deep orange sunrise ushers in another glorious 
 day. Bluebirds in the distance call, "Farewell, fare- 
 well." Two Nuthatches, time after time, and four or 
 five Chickadees (besides Smutty) feed from the dish 
 held for them . See female Downy Flicker, ' ' Policeman " 
 Robins, and Cedar Waxwings, immature Blackpolls, 
 and then, flying low over the pine tops from north to 
 south and the sea, a great V of Canada Geese, with 
 their short tails and long necks plainly seen as never 
 before. Watch them till they fade into the distance. 
 
 Sept. 25. 
 
 Gloriously bright and cold forty-four degrees at 
 seven o'clock. Hear the farewell call of distant Blue- 
 birds and then the Towhees shout again on the hillside, 
 not heard since June. 
 
 Female Humming-bird returns to the nasturtiums 
 and strange juxtaposition the first Golden-crowned 
 Kinglet of the year appears in the hemlock hedge. See
 
 366 1903 
 
 little Parula Warbler in my tree, Pine Warbler (singing), 
 young Black-throated Greens (trying to sing), immature 
 Blackpolls, and what was, I think, immature Myrtle. 
 See the Winter Trio, the ' * Policeman " who comes into 
 the tree and up the " tuft," but didn't quite venture on- 
 to the bird-table with me on the piazza; one solitary 
 Goose, Goldfinches and Cedar Waxwings, Robins, old 
 and young (one sings his Spring song), a Song-sparrow 
 feeding repeatedly on the path (where of late I have 
 had no mealers but the constant Chipmunks and an 
 occasional Jay), male Purple Finch in the crooked 
 pine, and last of all, also in the crooked pine, a Spar- 
 row-hawk eyeing me malignly over his shoulder with 
 his round, hooked face. Eighteen kinds in all. (Out 
 ten hours, till even the "Greedy Guthatches " had eaten 
 their very last supper.) 
 
 Oct. 1. 
 
 " Or, as when a bird hath flown through the air, there 
 is no token of her way to be found, but the light air, 
 being beaten with the stroke of her wings and parted 
 with the violent noise and motion of them, is passed 
 through, and therein afterwards no sign where she 
 went is to be found." 
 
 Not so bright, but ten degrees warmer. Abed till 
 noon when I got out for four and a half hours. Early 
 heard a Phoebe calling outside and a half -familiar little 
 Warbler song on the Black-and-white model, also Pine 
 Warblers trilling, whom later I saw. A confused 
 mass of Chickadees, Red-breasted Nuthatches, and "Po- 
 licemen " flutter constantly in and out of the nasturtium 
 window. Out, I see Robins everywhere, and then in
 
 Aet. 34 36T 
 
 my tree, staring at me out of his white-rimmed spec- 
 tacles, the first Ruby-crowned Kinglet, an uncrowned 
 monarch here ten days before schedule time! 
 
 Oct. 3. 
 
 Cooler and gloriously bright. Lots of Myrtle Warblers 
 chase one another from tree to tree, chirping like dull 
 bells. A Golden-crowned Kinglet comes into my tree, 
 and a Brown Creeper creeps sighing up a mound pine; 
 then, singing his sweet Robiny song all about from pine 
 to pine, and from hemlock hedge to my tree, the Blue- 
 headed Vireo on the return trip. See an Unpurple 
 Finch on the oak scrub, Robins hanging in the bar- 
 berry twigs eating the ripe fruit, and Pine Warblers, 
 trilling, and of course the Winter Trio and the ' ' Police- 
 man." 
 
 Oct. 4, Sunday. 
 
 A most beautiful sunrise of deep purple and fiery 
 pink and above it a single star; then another bright, 
 cold day. At breakfast time hear the Song-sparrows 
 singing sweetly from the lower fields, not heard for 
 months, and the Pine Warblers trilling all about unseen. 
 
 A simple sparrow singing from a reed. 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 
 Warm and mistily bright after a rainy night. A 
 Hermit Thrush, our first this year, sits spottily in the 
 hemlock hedge, and then flies into a mound pine where 
 he exhibits his rufous tail! ! (called by Adirondack wood- 
 cutters the " Swamp Angel "). Two Bluebirds, calling, 
 "Farewell, farewell," fly high over, and the dear Blue-
 
 368 1903 
 
 headed Vireo, first singing about unseen, conies into 
 my tree and hops quietly about, eyeing me through his 
 white spectacles. 
 
 Oct. 18. 
 
 Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not 
 one of them is forgotten before God? ST. LUKE, xii, 6. 
 
 It has been a hard summer on birds, the cold, wet 
 June causing great mortality among the nestlings, 
 especially among Swallows and Purple Martins, it is 
 thought. 
 
 Oct. 18. 
 
 My last Sunday with my birds. ("Who knoweth if 
 he will return and repent and leave a blessing behind 
 even a meat offering and a drink offering? ") 
 
 The day opens grim and gray after a raining, howl- 
 ing night. Grows brightly blue, with beautiful clouds, 
 by ten o'clock when I get out. The oaks on the hillside 
 are changed and the fields beyond stretch like a Persian 
 rug to the sea, which shines like a white pearl. 
 
 Oct. 21. 
 
 A beautiful early morning. Get out to breakfast on 
 the piazza, and to spend two last hours with my birds. 
 All the Red-breasted Nuthatches are there and all the 
 Chickadees (my Smutty, of course, flies to my hand), 
 both Policemen, both Downies, to say nothing of Squir- 
 rels, gray, red and striped. See five Blue Jays flying 
 over, calling, "Farewell," and a small flock of Cedar 
 Waxwings. Hear Jays, Kinglets, and a chirp that 
 might have been Juncos or Myrtle Warblers.
 
 Aet. 34 369 
 
 Drive to the 10.24 train under a snowy-looking sky 
 and through the gorgeous foliage, especially the beeches 
 and oaks, the latter every shade to blood-red. 
 
 Farewell Manchester and all my Dickories, and fare- 
 well my little Smutty above all. 
 
 And still she loves the bird, and still must love ; 
 That friendship lasts tho' fellowship is broken.
 
 370 1903 
 
 To MRS. CHARLES HOPKINSON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, May 27th. 
 Dearest Nelinor, 
 
 So you think all your old friends have forgotten you? 
 Not a bit of it, but, like the parrot, they take it out in 
 thinking. 
 
 Lou Wadsworth was here the other day and we found 
 she felt as we did. What does a romantic young 
 woman, spending her honeymoon in Italy, have to do 
 with what Mrs. Bell calls "rancid facts"? However, 
 here is Mrs. Yeats-Brown's letter and we are sorry you 
 missed seeing Porto Fino, to say nothing of that friendly 
 little thing herself and the kind old bear of a Monte. 
 Isn't it English to have one's little boys in every corner 
 of the globe? Our old nurse, Jane, sent us a letter from 
 her nephew of thirteen, who has just been left by his 
 father in Johannesburg, where he holds a position as 
 secretary in a mine! 
 
 To come nearer home did Bella tell you that Aunt 
 Florence brought Paulina and me each a beautiful 
 opal from Hungary which we wear in rings, regard- 
 less of bad luck? 
 
 We are getting indignantly homesick for a sight of 
 your wandering sister Frances, but Bella is a good girl 
 and comes over often, and we wonder which has the 
 redder face from wind and sun. Paulina says we have 
 both crossed the "Rubicund" which is a new joke; 
 she also says that "some of our standing jokes have 
 stood so long that they have flat-foot." 
 
 Ethel was here last night and Ellen last week, and I 
 took supper downstairs with each of them and had an 
 old-fashioned, giggling time. Next winter, when you
 
 Aet. 34 371 
 
 and Charley come in from your own Home to drink tea 
 with us, perhaps it will be downstairs, as it used to be 
 when we were younger. 
 
 What else can I tell you about our uneventful life? 
 except that we are reading the still more uneventful 
 life of Aunt Charlotte Yonge with chortlings of joy. 
 
 We are seeing a lot of Mrs. Higginson, which is a 
 great joy after the winter's fast. 
 
 Remember me to your " husband." We think of you 
 
 both daily. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Friday Morning. 
 Dearest Paulina, 
 
 You have probably heard of Mr. John Russell's 
 death? He died quietly Wednesday at noon, but 
 Mamma didn't tell me till yesterday. 
 
 It makes the world seem emptier to have that friendly 
 voice hushed, and that dear person so brilliant and 
 full of sentiment, so versatile and independent no 
 longer among us. 
 
 It is like losing a bit of our past almost a bit of 
 Papa, whom he always recalled a little, by that old- 
 fashioned courtesy of manner. 
 
 But he has fought a good fight and earned the rest 
 he must often have wearied for. 
 
 Isn't it beautiful to think that he had these last two 
 years at home among quiet fields? 
 
 Did you see in the papers that he always kept his old 
 horses till their death, and had nineteen buried under a
 
 372 1903 
 
 big oak? How he used to laugh at the amount of 
 pumpkin pie he had had to eat at the Agricultural 
 meetings. 
 
 Ah, well. 
 
 You seem very suspicious about my health. I have 
 kept a shade better, on the whole, than when you left 
 and have had two good afternoons. 
 
 Your oldest admirer, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To MRS. CHARLES HOPKINSON. 
 
 (Nov. 4.) 
 Dear Elinor, 
 
 Think of Mamma's seeing you sitting on a box at 
 poor Ropes's little shop and never asking you how you 
 fared with servants! I am afraid the small Swedish 
 sister of Helen's parlor-maid (which sounds like a Ger- 
 man exercise) was altogether too young and inexpe- 
 rienced to be thought of for a moment tho' our Sophie 
 was eager to run across on her days out and show her 
 how. 
 
 But I've no doubt you'll fall on your feet somehow, 
 with a treasure under your arm. 
 
 Tell Charles we expect him to drop in constantly this 
 winter, like the old friend he is by brevet. 
 
 It was dear to see you Monday. You don't know how 
 my heart thrills at thought of that new nest across the 
 street and the yellow beak that is so soon to poke up 
 
 above the rim. 
 
 Your bird fancier, 
 
 NANNY. 
 Wednesday.
 
 Aet. 35 373 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 New Year met me somewhat sad, 
 Old year leaves me tired ; 
 Yet farther on my road today, 
 God willing, farther on my way. 
 
 God strengthen me to be myself 
 That heaviest weight of all to bear. 
 
 St. Chrysostom on his deathbed exclaimed, "Thank 
 God for everything." 
 
 Galileo says, " We think God's thoughts after Him." 
 
 I find the gayest castles in the air that were ever 
 piled far better for comfort and for use than the dun- 
 geons in the air that are daily dug and caverned out by 
 grumbling, discontented people. Power dwells with 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 Love the day. Do not leave the sky out of your 
 landscape. 
 
 If we meet no gods it is because we harbor none. 
 He only is rightly immortal to whom all things are im- 
 mortal. The genius of life is friendly to the noble, and 
 in the dark brings them friends from far. Fear God, 
 and where you go men shall think they walk in hal- 
 lowed cathedrals. 
 
 You shall not wish for death out of pusillanimity. 
 The weight of the universe is pressed down on the 
 shoulders of each moral agent to hold him to his task. 
 The only path of escape known in all the worlds of God 
 is performance. You must do your work before you 
 shall be released. And so I think that the last lesson
 
 374 1904 
 
 of life, the choral song, which rises from all elements, is 
 a voluntary obedience, a necessitated freedom. 
 
 EMERSON. 
 
 On the birth of a friend's child. 
 
 He shall feed His flock like a shepherd. He shall 
 gather the lambs in His arms and carry them in His 
 bosom and shall gently lead those that are with young. 
 
 Accept the obligation laid on thee : 
 To worthily defend the trust of trust, 
 
 Life from the ever living. 
 
 BROWNING. 
 
 Out of the deep, my child, out of the deep ; 
 From that true world, within the world we see, 
 Whereof our world is but the bounding shore. 
 Live and be happy in thyself, and serve 
 This mortal race, thy kin, so well that men 
 May bless thee as we bless thee, O young life, 
 Breaking with laughter from the dark. 
 
 Jesus saith, " Wherever there are two they are not 
 without God, and wherever there is one I say that I am 
 with him. Raise the stone and there thou shalt find 
 me. Cleave the wood and there am I." 
 
 On the anniversary of Mrs. Paine's death. 
 
 March 9, 1904. 
 
 Faithful: "I had sunshine all the rest of the way 
 through the Valley of the Shadow of Death." 
 
 Look for your Shepherd and He shall give you ever- 
 lasting rest, for He is nigh at hand. Be ready to the
 
 Aet. 35 375 
 
 reward of the Kingdom, for the everlasting light shall 
 shine upon you for evermore. 
 
 Arise up, and stand and behold the number of those 
 that be sealed in the Lord, which are departed from the 
 shadow of the world and received glorious garments of 
 the Lord. 
 
 These be they that have put off the mortal clothing 
 and put on the immortal, and have confessed the name 
 of God. Now are they crowned and receive palms. 
 
 II ESDRAS. 
 
 And wakes once more the sense of tears. The sad- 
 ness at the Heart of things. 
 
 Reproving thankless man who fears 
 
 To journey on a few lone years. 
 
 Thou, who didst sit on Jacob's well 
 
 The weary hour of noon, 
 
 The languid pulses Thou canst tell, 
 
 The nerveless spirit tune ; 
 
 Thou, from whose Cross in anguish burst 
 
 The cry that owned Thy dying thirst, 
 
 From darkness and from dreariness 
 
 We ask not full repose. 
 
 Only be Thou at hand to bless 
 
 Our trial hour of woes. 
 
 Behold how green this Valley of Humiliation is; also 
 how beautiful with Lilies. 
 
 Besides here a man shall be free from noise and hur- 
 rying of this life. 
 
 All states are full of noise and confusion, only the 
 Valley of Humiliation is that empty and solitary place. 
 
 Here a man shall not be so let and hindered in his 
 contemplation as in other places he is apt to be.
 
 376 1904 
 
 This is a valley that nobody walks in but those that 
 love a Pilgrim's life. And though Christian had the 
 hard hap to meet with Apollyon, yet I must tell you 
 that in former times men have met with Angels here, 
 have found Pearls here, and have in this place found 
 the words of Life. 
 
 That life is not an idle ore, 
 But iron dug from central gloom, 
 And heated hot with burning fears, 
 And dipt in baths of hissing tears, 
 And battered with the shocks of doom, 
 
 To shape and use. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 That which thou dost not understand when thou read- 
 est thou shalt understand in the day of thy visitation. 
 For there are many secrets of religion which are not 
 perceived till they be felt, and are not felt but in the day 
 of a great calamity. JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt. 
 
 E. L. P. 
 
 The good stars in your horoscope made you of spirit, 
 fire and dew. 
 
 A heart at leisure from itself 
 To soothe and sympathize. 
 
 Hearts training in their low abode, 
 
 Daily to lose themselves in hopes to find their God. 
 
 That a man lay down his life for his friends.
 
 Aet. 35 377 
 
 And I will gladly spend and be spent for you. 
 
 E. S. H. 
 
 Her heart sat silent through the noise 
 And concourse of the street ; 
 There was no hurry in her hands, 
 No hurry in her feet. 
 There was no bliss drew nigh to her 
 That she might run to greet. 
 
 I. A. H. 
 
 Not a thought, a touch, 
 
 But pure as lines of green that streak the white 
 
 Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves. 
 
 Sarah Whitman. 
 
 What other words, we may almost ask, are memor- 
 able and worthy to be repeated than those which love 
 has inspired? It is wonderful. It is wonderful that 
 they were ever uttered. They are few and rare indeed, 
 but like a strain of music they are necessarily repeated 
 and modulated by the memory. We should not dare 
 to repeat these now aloud. We are not competent 
 to hear them at all times. The friend asks no return 
 but that his friend will religiously accept and wear and 
 not disgrace his apotheosis of him. They are kind to 
 each other's dreams. Confucius said, " Never contract 
 friendship with a man who is not better than thyself." 
 It is the merit and preservation of friendship that it 
 takes place on a level higher than the actual characters 
 of the parties would seem to warrant. It is an exercise 
 of the purest imagination, the rarest faith, and the
 
 378 1904 
 
 friend responds silently through his nature and life, and 
 treats his friend with the same divine courtesy. 
 
 Let our intercourse be entirely above ourselves and 
 draw us up to it. 
 
 The language of friendship is not words, but mean- 
 ings. It is one proof of a man's fitness for friendship 
 that he is able to do without that which is cheap and 
 passionate. This is a plant which thrives best in a tem- 
 perate zone, where summer and winter alternate with 
 one another. Friends will meet without any outcry, 
 and part without loud sorrow. Their relation implies 
 such qualities as the warrior prizes; for it takes a valor 
 to open the hearts of men as well as the gates of cas- 
 tles. It is not an idle sympathy and mutual consolation 
 merely, but a heroic sympathy of aspiration and en- 
 deavor. 
 
 There are some things which a man never speaks of 
 which are much finer kept silent about. To the high- 
 est communications we only lend a silent ear. Our 
 finest relations are not simply kept silent about, but 
 buried under a positive depth of silence never to be 
 revealed. For human intercourse the tragedy begins, 
 not when there is misunderstanding about words, but 
 when silence is not understood. 
 
 Surely, my friend shall forever be my friend and re- 
 flect a ray of God to me, and time shall foster and adorn 
 and consecrate our friendship no less than the ruins of 
 temples. 
 
 As I love nature, as I love singing birds and gleam- 
 ing stubble and flowing rivers and morning and evening 
 and summer and winter I love thee, my friend. 
 
 THOREAU.
 
 Aet. 35 379 
 
 MANCHESTER, May, 1904. 
 
 It is so with the human relations that rest on deep 
 emotional sympathy of affection; every new day and 
 night of joy and sorrow is a new ground, a new conse- 
 cration for the love that is nourished by memories as 
 well as hopes. The love to which perpetual repetition 
 is not a weariness, but a want to which a separated joy 
 
 is the beginning of pain. 
 
 GEORGE ELIOT. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman's Death. 
 
 For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my 
 departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight. I 
 have finished my course. I have kept the Faith. Now, 
 therefore, there is laid up for me a crown of rejoicing 
 which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at 
 that day. 
 
 When frail nature can no more, 
 Then the Spirit strikes the hour ; 
 My servant Death, with solving rite, 
 Pours finite into infinite. 
 
 Dear thought of God which God will still think on. 
 And they shall be as when a standard bearer fainteth. 
 
 She met everybody in human sympathy, but of sin 
 seemed to take no cognizance except in compassion. 
 
 The sick in soul touch her soul and are well again; 
 the discouraged find new bravery; the yielding souls 
 are clad anew with firmness; the frivolous grow serious; 
 the mean are stung or tempted into generosity, and sin-
 
 380 1904 
 
 ners hate their sin and crave a better life. Oh, there are 
 such men and women in the world. The world finds 
 them out, and souls half conscious of disease creep to 
 their doors. Friends bring their friends into the pres- 
 ence of these healing lives, as of old the men of Jerusa- 
 lem brought forth the sick into the streets and laid 
 them on beds, that at least the shadow of Peter pass- 
 ing by might overshadow some of them. 
 
 Like Seguier, the Camisard, who had more reason 
 than most people to complain of life, he can say, "My 
 soul is like a garden full of shelter and of fountains." 
 
 June 27th, after Mrs. Whitman's death. 
 
 Almighty and everlasting God, who dost enkindle the 
 flame of Thy love in the hearts of the saints, grant unto 
 us the same faith and power, that as we rejoice in their 
 triumphs we may profit by their examples, through 
 Jesus Christ Our Lord. 
 
 Father, we thank Thee for the faithful souls that have 
 blessed the world, whose lives shine as the light, holy 
 ones who have feared God, who have bravely upheld the 
 right, and generously lived for others' good. 
 
 Oh, may their pure and noble lives animate and quick- 
 en our hearts, and in our souls may there burn a desire 
 like them to become true children of God. 
 
 A friendship which, at this most solemn time, does 
 not seem so much to have been interrupted as to have 
 been consecrated for evermore. In old days it was 
 strength to be with her and for the future it will be 
 strength to remember her.
 
 Aet. 35 381 
 
 Never be joyful except when ye shall look on your 
 brother in love. New Sayings of Jesus. 
 
 The weak shall be saved by the strong. 
 
 "No reflection," writes Harnack, "of the reason, no 
 deliberation of the intelligence, will ever be able to ex- 
 punge from the moral ideas of mankind the conviction 
 that injustice and sin deserve punishment, and that 
 everywhere when a just man suffers an atonement is 
 made which puts us to shame and purifies us. 
 
 " It is a conviction which is impenetrable, for it comes 
 out of those depths in which we feel ourselves to be a 
 unity, and out of the world which lies behind the world 
 of phenomena. Mocked and denied as though it had 
 long perished, this truth is indestructible, preserved in 
 the moral experience of mankind. These are the ideas 
 which from the beginning onward have been roused by 
 Christ's death." 
 
 This is just the heroic in the faith of the Old Testa- 
 ment, that in the midst of the riddles of life, and face to 
 face with the impenetrable darkness resting on the life 
 beyond, it throws itself, without reserve, into the arms 
 of God. DELITZSCH.
 
 382 1904 
 
 To MRS. CHARLES HOPKINSON. 
 
 Wednesday Morn. 
 My dear, dear old Elinor, 
 
 I wanted to send you a rose with a bud I wanted to 
 write but the Baby's " Gammardge " thought I had 
 better wait a few days longer, and I knew you needed 
 no words to tell you of the thrill of rejoicing that 
 went through this household when the pink ribbon 
 appeared in your window. And then your mother was 
 so dear to come across and tell us all about it. 
 
 I am glad she had Steenie to stand by her, while she 
 stood by Charles, and now I hear that " she " is such a 
 dear, and so pretty, every one says, and all her 'lations 
 seem to care considerable about her. Isn't it wonder- 
 ful? When I feel a sudden glow at my heart I know 
 my subliminal self is thinking of you with a little girl 
 baby in your arms. 
 
 God bless you both, and Charley and your mother, 
 who stand next in the picture. 
 
 What a warm nest of love and friendship that little 
 girl has come into. 
 
 > . . - . . 
 
 I love you, darling. 
 
 Your old friend, 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 HOME, Sunday, Feb. 7th. 
 Dearest Paulina, 
 
 Yesterday, for me, had no history except that, like 
 the Vicar of Wakefield, I moved "from the blue room 
 to the brown." Yes, and in the afternoon I saw
 
 Aet. 35 383 
 
 Ethel again, who pretends that her hair is full of the 
 ashes of repentance, tho' it gleams as bright as ever to 
 the outward eye. 
 
 Mamma came back from her luncheon party full of 
 anecdote and pastry. 
 
 Miss Lowell and Miss Jackson were all delightful, but 
 " mediaeval Molly " was the gem of the occasion. She 
 doesn't think there will be war between Japan and Rus- 
 sia, and said it reminded her of two cows, long ago in 
 Con way, who came charging and pawing towards each 
 other down the road then turned and fled. "John 
 Edward," said she to the disappointed farmer's boy 
 who had been watching them, "what was the matter? 
 Why didn't they fight? " " Wai," he answered, " one 
 of 'em was scared and the other darsn't." And some 
 one else told of a man who had gone to church after 
 many years, and was glad, for he had learnt something 
 he had found out that Sodom and Gomorrah were 
 cities and he had always thought them man and wife. 
 
 Dorr Bradley has written to ask me if he can get a 
 tiger-kitten, of the Mt. Vernon Street breed, for his 
 Alice, but she will have to be satisfied with a ' ' lesser 
 Lord of doom." Is not Sansge, like Warwick's war- 
 horse, the last of a noble line? She is asleep on my 
 feet at the moment, or she would send her love. 
 
 Mamma, in the chimney-neuk, is absolutely reading 
 a chapter I chose for her in ' ' The Soul of the Black 
 Folk." It is beautiful and tragic, and true too, I 
 imagine, except that it is unlikely that ten thousand 
 little pickaninnies feel as he does, who is a genius and 
 a poet. 
 
 I laughed at Dr. Mason and Mamma's decision that
 
 384 1904 
 
 it was better not to take things too hard if you couldn't 
 prevent them. Do you think Dr. M. is one of those 
 who learns by suffering what he teaches in song? 
 
 Miss Mason interviewed a club of young Jew girls a 
 while ago who wanted to join the North End Union. 
 They called their club the Star of Bethlehem, and their 
 mottoes were "Keep wide awake" and "A sleeping 
 fox catches no poultry." Don't you think they had 
 hitched a rather unethical wagon to their star? 
 
 Your loving old 
 
 SISTER. 
 
 To MRS. F. O. BARTON. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 February 29. 
 Oh, my dear, dear Mea, 
 
 Into the Holy of Holies of such a grief as yours only 
 the nearest have a right to enter, but we who stand in 
 the Outer Court long to bring some small offering of 
 love and sympathy. 
 
 I carry you always in my heart there is not a day 
 when I do not think of you and long to put my arms 
 round you. 
 
 When the news of Mr. Barton's death came we real- 
 ized a little the joy you must have felt for him you 
 whose heart had gone with his into the Valley of the 
 Shadow when, at last, " mortality was swallowed up 
 of life." " And, as he went over the River, the last 
 words he was heard to say were, * Welcome, Life.' ' 
 
 The dark hours come later, when there is nothing to 
 do but rest heavily on the will of God. "And our hope
 
 Aet. 35 385 
 
 of you is steadfast, knowing that as ye are partakers 
 of the sufferings so shall ye be also of the consolation." 
 
 I wish I had known your husband. You must have 
 memories that make you very proud and grateful, and 
 boys to train up to bear their father's untarnished 
 shield. There are so many that need you young and 
 old and it is clinging hands that hold up hearts that 
 faint. 
 
 Those who love, even Death itself cannot separate, 
 and in all the loneliness and anguish in which you are 
 left you will surely feel the larger life into which he has 
 entered pulsing in yours. 
 
 So let her wait God's instant men call years ; 
 
 Meanwhile hold fast by truth, and her great soul do out the duty. 
 
 May He ' ' who seeth the sighs of the heart before 
 they are uttered and heareth them still when they are 
 hushed into silence " comfort you now and always. 
 
 Yours in true love and sympathy, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH.
 
 386 1904 
 
 SUMMER OF 1904. BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 
 So one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, 
 and every time she drank she lifted up her head and 
 her eyes toward Heaven. "See," said he, " what this 
 little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge 
 whence your mercies come by receiving them with look- 
 ing up." Pilgrim's Progress. 
 
 May 8, Sunday. 
 
 Exquisite sunrise with a pale crescent moon, and the 
 Wood Thrushes singing gloriously a whole hour, with 
 only little Chestnut-sides to accompany them. At five 
 o'clock comes the full bird chorus. Looking out early 
 I saw, first, Mr. and Mrs. Chickadee in Paulina's oak. 
 Then a pair of Robins, the first Chestnut-sided Warbler, 
 ecstatically catching something in a low oak tip, and a 
 Black-and-white Creeper; a little later we see the first 
 Blue Jay in my tree and drinking from the big tub. 
 After breakfast see the Pine Warbler, some kind of 
 Hawk, Chimney Swifts, Gulls, and hear the Purple 
 Finch warbling; a good deal of unfamiliar song, which 
 suggests a Catbird, and a little bird soliloquy as of the 
 Ked-eyed Vireo; also the Oven-bird's flight-song in the 
 morning. Hear Downy drumming, Flickers crying 
 " Wick-a-wick, " and Nuthatches talking, all unseen. 
 After lunch we see the first Oven-bird, mincing about 
 under my oak, Black-throated Green, and Chippy com- 
 ing to his supper. 
 
 May 16. 
 
 Day opens cold and dark after a pouring night. Sun 
 struggles out between nine and ten o'clock when I move 
 out onto my piazza,. A Wood Thrush on the little
 
 Aet. 35 387 
 
 bushes by the path, a Red-eyed Vireo gossips over her 
 work in the hemlock hedge and oak scrub. Hear a Cat- 
 bird's mew, and later the faint ringing of an Indigo- 
 bird, whom we discovered among the low bushes at the 
 foot of the crooked pine a perfect sapphire, and my 
 own, for as soon as the canary seed is poured out on 
 the familiar spot on the path he comes to eat there. 
 
 Looking down at sunset time over my piazza, edge 
 see little Indigo-bird taking two separate late suppers 
 on the path, and a pair of Robins, Chippy and Oven- 
 birds over and over again, while the Black-throated 
 Greens and a Black-and-white Warbler pursue each other 
 through the low bushes near the big tub. 
 
 A silent space with ever-sprouting green, 
 
 All tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen, 
 
 Creep through the shade with jaunty fluttering, 
 
 Nibble the little cupped flowers and sing. 
 
 KEATS. 
 
 May 24. 
 
 Cloudy and soft, then bright and warm. The hill- 
 side for the first time ' ' a mist of green " rather than a 
 mist of pinkish-brown. 
 
 The Cardinals are breakfasting on the path, but where 
 is little Indigo? Has he gone to meet his wife? See 
 besides Chestnut-sides and Black-and-white, Mr. and 
 Mrs. Black- throated Green (she gathers wicking), and 
 Mrs. Redstart, who gathers wicking and hops along 
 piazza rail. Red-eyed Vireos, Swifts, a Baltimore Oriole 
 flying past and a Catbird in the barberry tangle. Pine 
 Warblers twittering and a pair of Goldfinches on the dry 
 leaves, under the ash tree, he exactly like one of the 
 dandelions near him. But triumph of triumphs, what
 
 388 1904 
 
 I am very sure is my own Smutty comes back to me 
 at last after three long weeks of waiting. The Chick- 
 adee pair have been indifferent to meal worms, even 
 when set out on the bird-table, besides looking pale and 
 small and young and timid for my gallant Smutty. 
 But in the middle of the afternoon, chancing to leave 
 the meal-worm dish uncovered on the table by my sofa, 
 on my return I find a Chickadee feeding from it in the 
 old familiar way a Chickadee that looks like Smutty. 
 While I am dressing he comes back again and after one 
 shy flutter he eats from it beside me as I lie quite still 
 on my sofa. 
 
 Stay out through the exquisite warm evening with 
 the Thrushes to sing to me at first. When they stop, 
 there are a few flight-songs. Then I see the first Night- 
 hawk fluttering over me and hear a dozen times, very 
 faint in the distance, but unmistakable, the long-lost 
 Whippoorwill. 
 
 In some time His good time, I shall arrive. 
 
 May 25. 
 
 Each hidden by a leaf his rapture tells. 
 
 Warm and half cloudy then bright. Out eleven 
 hours. Waked by a Pe-a-wee's plaintive, sultry voice. 
 See a Blackpoll Warbler in the hemlock hedge before 
 breakfast, but where is little Indigo? Chickadees here, 
 and among them Smutty, who sits on a fence, but fears 
 to cast away at first; then comes five times to my little 
 table for his meal worms twice when I was there. 
 
 See Downy, and, on the path feeding, Chippies, Oven- 
 birds, Robins, Blue Jays (three of the last fly about all 
 day in deadly fight in the crooked pine, scrub oak, etc.).
 
 Aet. 35 389 
 
 Red-eyed Vireo everywhere, Pine Warblers trilling 
 in my tree, Chestnut-sided Warblers, Black-and-white 
 Warbler and Black-throated Green, and Mrs. Redstart 
 after wicking; also a pair of Goldfinches in the barberry 
 tangle (he for two long visits), a Humming-bird, and at 
 sunset time a female Tanager, who sits quietly in 
 Paulina's oak and the oak scrub and lets us look at 
 her. 
 
 June 4. 
 
 Exquisite warm day with the leaves all shining. 
 (Dear little Gray Rose appears to be dying before break- 
 fast and lies on her nest with closed eyes and panting 
 breath, then rallies a little, gets onto a perch and eats. 
 Still very ill, but grows better.) 
 
 A female Goldfinch sits in my tree and then returns 
 to it with her husband, who prunes his ebon wing there 
 serenely. 
 
 June 9. 
 
 At four o'clock in the morning found dear little Gray 
 Rose dead under her perch. She had been so poorly 
 again yesterday that we almost hoped she would die 
 but never to have her again never to hear her little 
 
 hymn! 
 
 Fare thee well, companion dear, 
 
 Fare for ever well, nor fear, 
 Tiny though thou art, to stray 
 Down the uncompanioned way. 
 
 A line of singular pathos in the Greek anthology tells 
 of the voice of the singing bird forever hushed. "Thy 
 ways and sweet breath are prisoned in the silent paths 
 of night."
 
 390 1904 
 
 Smutty flies thirty-eight times to my hand. A pair 
 of Eedstarts play tag in my tree and a pair of love-sick 
 Oven-birds under it. See one flight-song. Bright, cool 
 afternoon. Stay out till seven. All the birds singing 
 sweetly at sunset time and the sweetest singer of all 
 lying still under the nasturtiums beside me. My dear 
 little Gray. I have you also in my heart. 
 
 Thy memory lasts both here and there, 
 And thou shalt live as long as we, 
 And after that thou dost not care ; 
 In us was all the world to thee. 
 
 June 10. 
 
 Lovely November day, autumnally cloudy and bright, 
 both. Paulina, walking out, sees a pair of Purple 
 Finches in the midst of an ardent courtship, he danc- 
 ing in the roads with trailing wings and she at the 
 roadside pretending to search for food and not to see 
 him. Thrushes glorious at sunset time, and very near. 
 Deep pink sunset over the sky. 
 
 June 27. 
 
 After a hot night an exquisite morning cooler, with 
 a fresh air stirring; indoors at noon for an hour, then 
 out again. A Red-breasted Nuthatch lands on the first 
 mound pine. 
 
 The most beautiful of afternoons, with a deeply-blue 
 sky and cool, still air. At sunset the west is gold with 
 a pink afterglow on the sea, which is full of light, like 
 an opal. A Wood Thrush sings his evening hymn on 
 the crooked pine. Then a full moon. 
 
 The light that never was on sea and land.
 
 Aet. 35 391 
 
 July 10. 
 
 See the Chickadee family, the Downy family, the 
 Catbird family. (There are four maltese kitten-birds.) 
 Mr. and Mrs. Redstart carrying food to invisible voices; 
 the Chippies with a very young brood (one baby takes 
 his downy nap on the piazza, rail till his mother comes 
 back for him), and the baby Black-throated Greens 
 being escorted about the mound, the hemlock hedge 
 and my tree by their proud parents. Mrs. Humming- 
 bird makes six visits to the nasturtiums. A Wood 
 Thrush flies from the path and Oven-birds fly up into 
 the sky in early morning " afternoon songs." 
 
 August 15. 
 
 Exquisite morning, and all the little birds astir. Get 
 out at 5.30, when, though the sky is blue and the sun 
 gilding the pine tops, a pale pink haze is over the sea. 
 
 See Wood Pewees, Song-sparrows, Goldfinches, who 
 light on trees, Robins, who are clamourous on the hill- 
 side, Flickers, and old male Redstart. 
 
 Smutty, ever since his young have been self-support- 
 ing, has been contented with six or seven meal worms a 
 day. He, like all the cage birds, is moulting. Out four- 
 teen hours through a most perfect, warm day. Thrushes 
 talk at sunset as they did at dawn, but no singing! 
 
 Sept. 5. 
 
 Glorious sunrise with a Thrush ' ' chooking " and purr- 
 ing as he did last evening at sunset. Get out at five 
 o'clock. The pine tops and their trunks are in a deep 
 glow as if reflecting a great fire. Hear a loud unfamiliar 
 single note very sweet on the hillside, and hear the
 
 392 1904 
 
 Cardinal sing from the hemlocks. A small Warbler 
 comes into my tree with a warm brown cloak and hood, 
 two white wing-bars, a gold waistcoat streaked with 
 black. After sunset a Wood Thrush flies almost into 
 my arms. 
 
 Oct. 5. 
 
 Warmer, but not so still nor unclouded. Out six 
 hours. The air is full of Bluebird calls and soft little 
 unknown trills and whispered songs one like a fairy 
 whistle. See the Brown Creeper and Juncos in the 
 trees and feeding on the path with the White-throated 
 Sparrows and the Song-sparrows. Hear the ' ' chook " 
 of the Hermit Thrush and then, triumph! there he is 
 among the barberries jerking his rufous tail. Myrtle 
 Warblers everywhere, and in my tree a Parula Warbler 
 and young Redstart, and then, behind the house, we 
 see Black-throated Blue and Nashville Warbler over and 
 over again, our very first Tennessee Warbler, making 
 the eighth. Warmer today.
 
 Aet. 35 393 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 Thursday, June 23. 
 My dear Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 The awful loss we have all foreseen with our minds is 
 now close upon us and we must realize it with our hearts. 
 
 Mrs. Whitman is sinking fast, they think. She con- 
 tinued about the same till last Sunday night, when she 
 had a serious turn. Mrs. Parkman does not leave her. 
 Thank God those loving arms have been round her all 
 these last piteous years. She does not suffer much 
 she has begun to wander a little in her mind once she 
 said, ' ' I think I am going peacefully from this world to 
 the next." It seemed tragic that the end should come 
 at the hospital away from her own beautiful home 
 that she has treated her own sufferings always so care- 
 lessly, but that is in keeping with a life that came not 
 to be ministered unto but to minister. All the loving 
 service of all the long years come crowding into my 
 mind the wide human sympathies, the tender heroic 
 counsel all she has been to me and to hundreds more 
 " and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars 
 forever and ever. " What shall we do without her? It is 
 like the Pilgrim's parting with Mr. Greatheart, "I 
 know not how to be willing you should leave us in our 
 pilgrimage, you who have been so faithful and so lov- 
 ing to us; you have fought so stoutly for us, you have 
 been so hearty in counselling of us. Oh, that we might 
 have thy company to our journey's end! How can such 
 poor women as we hold out in a way so full of troubles 
 as this way is without a friend and defender? " God 
 
 help us all. 
 
 Your loving, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 394: 1904 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 (July.) 
 My own darling, 
 
 This is just to put my arms round you again. You 
 know I haven't said anything these last days. Words 
 seem so little sometimes and yet have a trick of opening 
 the floodgates. 
 
 Nor dares she trust a larger lay, 
 But rather loosens from her lip 
 Short swallow-flights of song that dip 
 Their wings in tears and skim away. 
 
 You know how I love you, and that it is because I 
 shall miss you so much that I can bear it. 
 
 All the little familiar habits of love the shared joys 
 and sorrows yes, and the shared jokes of all the years 
 the smiles and tears and half -conscious memories 
 have twisted up our chord of love whose end is " hid 
 with Christ in God." 
 
 Time has made for us something that time cannot 
 touch something that ' ' must glow thro' time and 
 change unquenchably the same." 
 
 It will shine on me here and keep your heart warm 
 sometimes when perhaps even in the midst of moun- 
 tain peaks and cathedrals you will want Aunty Nan. 
 
 Does she tyrannize over you? and make you take 
 drugs of the first class and novels of the fourth class? 
 and chase squirrels and watch birds invisible birds in 
 distant branches and melt in unnecessary black holes 
 of Calcutta? 
 
 But she loves you, darling. 
 
 Whatever lands doom takes to part us leaves thy heart in mine 
 With pulses that beat double.
 
 Aet. 35 395 
 
 Sometimes I feel as if I stood on the verge of my world 
 and saw the sails grow dim in the horizon. But ' ' are 
 they not all the seas of God?" and such gallant ships 
 we have seen battling with heavy seas safe in port 
 now, thank God. 
 
 Keep a brave heart, darling, and come home with re- 
 newed joy and courage to your most loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Monday, July 4. 
 Darling Teeny, 
 
 Would you like a few extracts from our " kindling "? 
 I cannot call it "log" any more than Grandma Lodge 
 could call a parlour- woman a parlour-girl. 
 
 It is a bright and windy day after a night made hide- 
 ous by youthful patriots. Sophie is keeping many-col- 
 ored rodents at bay while the birds feed and Sans- 
 Gene stands in the screen door eager to help. She is 
 her Gamardge's only comfort. 
 
 Leaning out the sun-parlour window, when the wind 
 waves the long ferny leaves of the sumachs, one can 
 catch a glimpse of blue eggs in a brown nest at least 
 when Mrs. Robin isn't being her own rooftree. As a 
 bit of Gothic I am afraid she is pure Brockton. 
 
 Did Mamma tell you I had, on Friday, a call from 
 Eliphaz Hopkinson, the Temanite? Afterwards said I 
 to Gamdge, ' ' It's a little too much to be told that the 
 Prisoner would have really been better off without his 
 Picciola." " Nonsense," said Dearie, " you've lots of 
 Picciolas." "But not my little Picciola with the long 
 ears." 
 
 Conversation number 2 (something between a Cans-
 
 396 1904 
 
 erie de Lundi and a Causerie avec mes eleves, which I 
 remember was all fingers and thumbs) : 
 
 A. Man has such need of joy, 
 
 But joy whose grounds are true. 
 
 Mrs. S. Oh, bah, the poets! I wish, if you have to 
 quote, you'd quote something cheerful with a lilt in it. 
 
 A. "Young Lochinvar is come out of the west" 
 doesn't seem to have much bearing on my life. 
 
 But for all that we are eating venison pasties with 
 some relish, in company with Friar Tuck and the Black 
 
 Knight. 
 
 Your doting 
 
 AUNTIE NAN. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 July 8. 
 
 Greetings from the home-nest, from the Egg and the 
 
 Nestling. 
 
 Smutty sits on the piazza rail glaring at his offspring 
 and wishing he had remained a bachelor. Six babies, 
 all u four times as big as the bush-tit, are a clawful." 
 Downy wishes me to tell you that he has taught his 
 "Dunoise" and " Dunoisa" to eat suet by themselves 
 and " he can drum a little then." 
 
 Yesterday Kitty and I kept house together while 
 Mamma lunched with Mrs. John Morse, with Mrs. Cur- 
 tis and Miss Addie Bigelow. That sounds rather giddy, 
 doesn't it? But what do you think of our asking two 
 small boys to spend Sunday with us? However, it got 
 no further, for Dickson, who was to supply the amuse- 
 ments, thinks he had better play with Anstiss, so Mil- 
 dred's chicks must wait till another Sunday, when the
 
 Aet. 35 397 
 
 holes and windows in the Weston-Smith house are 
 mended with something more substantial than cheese- 
 cloth. Knowing that " tho' on pleasure bent you have 
 a frugal mind," and that skies, but not Conys, change, 
 I am sure you will be glad to hear that the damage is 
 paid for by the Insurance Company. Jim Hooper 
 thinks it will cost perhaps five hundred dollars. But 
 that is a small matter. Did you ever hear of so miracu- 
 lous an escape? Anstiss feels more what she calls 
 "lazy" than she thought she should, but her head is 
 better, which buzzed like a hive of bees the first day. 
 Her chief distress was breaking the Pup's death to 
 Melly-my-love. But the boys all bore themselves like 
 tender-hearted Trojans. 
 
 It isn't often this modest family appear in the public 
 print, but on this occasion the " Herald " gave us a few 
 lines which bring friends to inquire. 
 
 You will not be surprised to hear that " where the 
 lightning strikes the fawns will be gathered together." 
 
 Mrs. William Brooks drove up and Mrs. Bell writes 
 in much excitement, ending with, ' ' Heavy clouds are 
 coming up now, and, as a book I used to read as a child 
 said, my milk teeth begin to chatter in my mouth from 
 fear." ' 
 
 It was dear to get three real live letters from the 
 Faderland and to think of the red-headed Supporters, 
 one on each side of my Shield and Buckler. 
 
 Your lovingest 
 
 ALICE.
 
 398 1904 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Monday, July 18. 
 Darling Teeny, 
 
 As Mamma and I sat on the piazza last evening by 
 moonlight we wondered whether to picture you in 
 Cologne or further down the Rhine. 
 
 It was an exquisite midsummer day here and in the 
 late afternoon Mamma went to the Memorial Service at 
 Beverly Farms. 
 
 Mr. Dow, the florist, told of all Mrs. Whitman had 
 been to her country neighbors and to the Baptist 
 Church. When Mr. Lothrop came to speak he broke 
 down for a moment and so did Richard Cabot, who 
 made the most beautiful speech of the occasion. Judge 
 Holmes was eloquent, Mamma says, and dwelt on her 
 generosity, her intelligent sympathy with all great 
 causes, her love of her kind, her humour, of her democ- 
 racy of heart; but Richard Cabot spoke as one of the 
 young men who loved her whose life she had in- 
 spired "rejoicing that he was turning his young 
 strength to the old questions." 
 
 Immortality, he said, was the keynote of her charac- 
 ter an immortality that begins now; and he read ex- 
 tracts from her letters to him on friendship and death 
 and work very beautiful, Mamma says, and like her. 
 Her friends, Richard said, were like jewels to her, all 
 shining with their own beauty, and she called herself 
 the string on which they hung. 
 
 As he spoke it seemed as if the " friends and neigh- 
 bors she had loved, and who had gone before her, were 
 among them too Martin Brimmer and the two Obers,
 
 Aet. 35 399 
 
 Mr. Larcom and his own mother." He spoke of her 
 hours filled with work; of her splendid courage; of the 
 house she built to welcome her friends, which opened 
 directly into the living room and sacred hearthstone, as 
 her life did. 
 
 I tell you this lamely at second hand, but wasn't it 
 beautiful to have it adequately said by some one who 
 knew and cared so much, in one of the places she had 
 worked so gladly and loved so many? 
 
 I had a beautiful letter from Mrs. Parkman the other 
 day. One of the last things Mrs. Whitman said that 
 last week was, "It's all been good, hasn't it? for it's 
 been answering to the Spirit." 
 
 If " Life is to be measured by the amount of love in 
 the human soul," as Tauler says, hers was a very won- 
 derful one. She bore witness of the light. " And they 
 that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever 
 
 and ever." 
 
 Your most loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss IDA MASON. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 19. 
 Dear Miss Mason, 
 
 When you were here last I could talk calmly of Mrs. 
 Whitman's possibly approaching death, but oh, the dif- 
 ference when one had to realize with one's heart that 
 one should see her face no more never again clasp the 
 hand so tender to raise and soothe, or hear the spoken 
 word so full of inspiration and good cheer! " The sting 
 of death is sin " in more senses than the obvious one, 
 isn't it? and the loss of those we love are our judgment 
 days.
 
 400 1904 
 
 If only I had loved her more generously not taken 
 so much and given so little all these years which she 
 has brightened by her presence! 
 
 At this supreme moment I try to forget my own re- 
 morse try to forget my own changed world and 
 think only of that heroic life passed out of the valley 
 of the shadow into the light beyond the light she be- 
 lieved in and bore witness to. 
 
 We must try to mourn her as she mourned those she 
 loved, with the strong note of triumphant joy running 
 thro' the pain. 
 
 How many lives she has made brighter by living, and 
 she brought not only tenderness, but strength. "At 
 the top of the pillar was lily work." 
 
 I am glad there was a Memorial Service at Beverly 
 Farms in the church where she had worked so gladly 
 among the humble neighbors who knew how to love her. 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 20. 
 
 Well, Teeny, so "Nelson was tolollish," compared 
 with you as a sailor on high seas!! 
 
 Your letter and Ethel's have just come, and Mamma 
 is committing them to memory just inside my door, 
 while " S. Gr." lies at languid length on the bed beyond. 
 It is our fourth exquisite midsummer day, and really 
 warm. Last night I slept out under the heavy dew 
 and the stars, and had seen twenty-one kinds of birds 
 before seven o'clock this morning, to the despair of 
 "Sopidge." I have found that the darning-egg is the
 
 Aet. 35 401 
 
 only egg in which she takes no interest, and it is a dis- 
 couraging business. She showed me a sample the other 
 day and asked my advice. 
 
 " Burn it I call that a hole with a stocking in it." 
 
 Another mild jest of mine I venture to send on the 
 chance it may awake an echo of the giggles in which it 
 was created. I advised Mamma, if in low spirits, to 
 skip in our Book of Prayers anything called " Gen- 
 eral Intercession," as there they give full rein to a vivid, 
 morbid imagination. " For all those wrongfully con- 
 fined in penitentiaries; for women in perils of childbirth 
 on unsea worthy vessels; for overworked servants; for 
 tired book agents having dogs set on them; for sailors 
 with thin ends to their mufflers " 
 
 Here Gamdge broke into hysterical sobbings. I 
 should add that living alone with a Dormouse, " tho' a 
 highly moral, is not a peculiarly exciting, life," but I 
 fear she might say that a combination u Hatter " and 
 " March Hare " also had its drawbacks as a steady com- 
 panion. 
 
 Dickson is a dear, and this afternoon I see Mrs. Pea- 
 body, who is also a dear. And now, my dearest dear, 
 
 good-bye. From 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 AUNTIE NAN. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 Sunday, July 24. 
 Darling Linkstress, 
 
 What good care you are taking of my baby, or per- 
 haps I had better say our baby. 
 
 Do you remember Mamma's dashing out as you and
 
 402 1904 
 
 I sat on this piazza last year to say, ' ' You girls may 
 talk as much as you like, but I am Paulina's mother; " 
 and my answering, "Hush! why not let Ethel go on 
 thinking she's her mother?" 
 
 But if I am so generous about Paulina you must let 
 me have a good slice of Lily. 
 
 That dear thing was here again Friday, and I had the 
 pleasure of pointing out to her the strange lack of hu- 
 mour possessed by the Reformer. 
 
 Imagine the Total Abstainers nominating for presi- 
 dent a man named ' ' Swallow!" The vice-president is not 
 "Rum," as you might imagine at first, but "Carol," 
 which Dickson says suggests that the platform is ' ' Wein, 
 Weib und Gesang." 
 
 Poor Dickson has been gazing wistfully to sea this 
 last two days, where the boys are kept by a northeast 
 storm and a high sea a hen-father, if there is such a 
 bird. 
 
 Friday night it rained and blew so heavily that at 
 five o'clock in the morning we were grateful to see the 
 white tent-top sticking up out of the mist. 
 
 Literature preserves an impressive silence as to how 
 Robinson Crusoe's aunt and grandmother felt. 
 
 Tell Paulina I don't know what to think about the 
 Cardinal's second nest, if they had one, as I strongly 
 suspect they did, way down the hillside. 
 
 Sometimes Sophie and I "hear the lark within the 
 songless egg," but as a whole we lean to despondency. 
 
 However, Virginia is safe, and only once has Florider 
 been seen trying to eloquently persuade her into being 
 a Liberal Unionist. 
 
 Five minutes for refreshments is nothing to the way 
 that poor woman is expected to choke down her meals.
 
 Aet. 35 403 
 
 " Quick-quick-quick," Wolsey sings, feeling as a mother 
 does when she has the children and the nurse is at her 
 meals. Lily also feels that they take an unearthly time, 
 nurses, I mean, but I tell her it goes with the 
 nurse attributes. 
 
 As the prince in the fairy tale chooses a wife who 
 pares the rind of a cheese, so before hiring a nurse ask 
 to see her eat. If she chews the cud and divides the 
 hoof hire her at once. 
 
 You see, darling, I am happy as far as happiness lies 
 in having no history. 
 
 I needn't tell you I love you and long for you and re- 
 joice with you every minute. 
 
 Your most devoted 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 28. 
 Darling Twitty-wee, 
 
 I had my last caU from Mrs. Peabody yesterday, and 
 was horrified to find the Elect Lady was not using hos- 
 pitality to the saints without grudging. In other 
 words she hadn't yet invited her Bishop for October. 
 
 The path of duty seemed to lie toward Bishop of 
 
 something woolly and western, tho' she longed for 
 "Sacramento." 
 
 She is a dear old thing and when not talking of ' ' the 
 Sabbaths of Eternity " is refreshingly vicious. It is 
 another case of "Go to hell, Bunch. " 
 
 And, speaking of Bunch, did we tell you that for five 
 days we added to our list of pets a female Irish terrier 
 who drove about with William on the front seat of the 
 carriage looking for her lost home? I called her the
 
 404 1904 
 
 Doge of Venice!! And thereby hangs another tale. If 
 the real Doge of Venice had a ring with which he 
 "wedded the Adriatic," why should not Bella have a 
 cake with which to wed Squam Lake? so I am having 
 her one baked and frosted. She goes up Monday with- 
 out a Harvard student, and, as her wharf isn't finished, 
 her furniture and stores must be butted ashore on a raft 
 by a steam launch. 
 
 Her coffee cups came to the enormous sum of one dol- 
 lar forty cents, so I made her keep the rest of the gold- 
 piece u to get herself something substantial to eat." 
 Could a Wiesbaden prune come under this head? 
 
 Dickson and I were much diverted by Mamma's say- 
 ing to me, in all soberness, "There are two tomatoes 
 left! I bought four!! " I told her it was only equalled 
 by Oliver Hereford's " going into the country to keep a 
 bee." 
 
 Enter Mamma herself, but without a letter. When 
 we last heard you were perched on the spire of Cologne 
 Cathedral taking a bird's-eye view of the adjacent 
 countries. 
 
 Sophie has seen an Orchard Oriole, by the way, and a 
 Belted Kingfisher, and we have both seen Baby Tana- 
 gers but, alas! I don't believe we shall ever have 
 Baby Cardinals. Virginia, we have decided, is a person 
 marked for ill-fortune. The loss of her tail was, per- 
 haps, like the loss of Samson's hair. 
 
 What frivolous letters I write, don't I? but you can 
 read the serious love parts between the lines. 
 
 Did I tell you how profoundly impressed I was by 
 Di when she was here? I think she will have the real 
 fruits of spiritual struggle to give to others. 
 
 She has thought on the vision, and heard the knock-
 
 Aet. 35 405 
 
 ings of those that seek her. "I think any one would 
 admit," she said, "that in my life I have had more 
 than my fair share of " " sorrows," I expected, but 
 no, " blessings." 
 
 Some day I must tell you more of what she said. 
 
 Now good-bye, darling. 
 
 From your own 
 
 SISTER. 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, July 31. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 This last month there has not been a day hardly 
 an hour when I have not longed for Mrs. Whitman 
 and rejoiced with her, and I know you feel the same, 
 and often have a dreary sense of being far away and 
 a-hunger for news. 
 
 We who love her gather together and something of 
 her spirit falls upon us she who in "the midmost 
 heart of grief " always " clasped the secret joy." What 
 a brave, forward-looking life full of sympathy and 
 strength and work! 
 
 "Life, I repeat, is energy of love," and how gladly 
 she spent and was spent for us! 
 
 We were weary, and we 
 Fearful, and we in our march 
 Fain to drop down and to die ; 
 Still thou turnedst, and still 
 Beckonest the trembler, and still 
 Gavest the weary thy hand. 
 
 Every one has written you, but have they dwelt 
 enough on the beautiful end of that heroic life? After 
 those tragic months years almost of feverish strug-
 
 406 1904 
 
 gle against increasing pain and weakness it is a comfort 
 to know there was " peace at the last." She said once 
 to Mrs. Parkman in those last days, " Well, it has been 
 good, hasn't it? for it has been answering to the Spirit." 
 And then again, "Oh! how wonderful, how beautiful, 
 the inner Innerness of " then she stopped as if rapt 
 in some vision. " I adore Him," she said of our Lord, 
 and over and over again, " Good-bye, darling, bless you! 
 that's all I'll say just now, but love to everybody and 
 all's serene." 
 
 In her death, as in her life, she bore witness to the 
 light, and we lift up our hearts unto the Lord, remem- 
 bering her. 
 
 These are our pillar fires, 
 Seen as we go, 
 
 They are that City's shining spires 
 We travel to. 
 
 And we have been her friends and learnt what friend- 
 ship may mean. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE W. S. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 1st. 
 
 Dearest Teeny, so with the Jungfrau for a back- 
 ground you have seen my tender-eyed Little Cock? 
 
 So Mr. Paine went to Berne on Peace business? Has 
 he converted those bun-eating bears? and did he read an 
 article in the "Spectator" on the "Idealism of War"? 
 It seemed to me quite interesting as an answer to Tol- 
 stoi. Give him my dear love.
 
 Aet. 35 407 
 
 Yesterday Mamma went to Emanuel and heard Bishop 
 McVickar. Today the Weston-Smiths scatter for their 
 fortnight's vacation. Dickson has been working hard 
 enough to really need it, and Anstiss hasn't picked 
 up yet from her lightning experience. She doesn't yet 
 like being left in the house alone. As for me, my feel- 
 ing about thunderstorms was always a matter of pure 
 unreason, so the knowledge that something sometimes 
 really does happen rather steadies my nerves than 
 otherwise. 
 
 Do you remember saying when you went to town for 
 the day remarkable events took place? This was an 
 example of " Ellen Emmons's ten ten-strikes" with a 
 vengeance. 
 
 News I have none seeing you have promised to read 
 a fat red tome full of daily lists of birds when you get 
 home. Mamma sleeps well and Pussy is adorable. 
 Evenings we have chills and fever over Stanley Wey- 
 man, daytimes we toy with the "Outlook," and 
 wish the Negro-problem had never been invented. A 
 ' ' distinguished Southern Educator " apparently thinks 
 the root of the evil in colored schools is that the litera- 
 ture presented to their minds is full of white heroes and 
 heroines. This is the Black Letter Press with a ven- 
 geance! May they read " Othello," or would that " put 
 vanilla beans up their chocolate nose"? He seriously 
 suggests that in their primers after B Y a small negro 
 should appear in the woodcut also after 6r I R L (to 
 teach chivalry for their own race, presumably); I sug- 
 gested that FRUIT should be illustrated by water- 
 melon! ! Do I see a frown on the face of my Linkstress? 
 then let me pass to more harmless jests! 
 
 Mamma too likes watermelons and lemon pie, but
 
 408 1904 
 
 peaches she won't eat unless cut up and sugared 
 heavily. 
 
 I tell her it looks as if she had only a sweet tooth 
 that wobbled. 
 
 I am afraid Mamma would " look long at a five-cent 
 stamp" before sending so frivolous a letter as this. 
 But a Nanny Dog must needs be waggish. 
 
 My precious child, 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 5. 
 
 Ethel's cheery letter was a real comfort to Gamdge, 
 tell her. I am really proud of that woman, who looks 
 like the Co-operative Cauliflower, and under the kindly 
 influence of Mary, the cook, is beginning to find that 
 she needs to be the Judicious Hooker if she is to get into 
 her gowns at all. 
 
 The first week after you left I kept her pretty anx- 
 ious, and she showed it, but now she looks rested and 
 blooming. Early bed, few fellow-creatures, two short 
 drives a day, agree with her, to say nothing of an hour 
 and a half of solid sleep every afternoon. She wants 
 you to know that "when the mouse is away the cat 
 will nap," and that the mouse does occasionally go the 
 grand tour is proved by his being seen in however 
 lowly a position at the diamond jubilee. 
 
 We miss Dickson and his evening calls, but he seems 
 to be having a pleasant time on the blue Kennebec, and 
 writes that he had a dear letter from you.
 
 Aet. 35 409 
 
 Except little scraps of conversation, and a few mild 
 jests, what have I to tell you? 
 
 We have decided the reason nohody in bird books sees 
 any feathered friends in August is because they are all 
 here. The Thrushes still sing and my sunny pine tops 
 are just full of young Warblers playing tag. I saw 
 twenty-five kinds of bird yesterday, and among them a 
 dear Indigo, who sat on the suet branch, the piazza rail, 
 and Blue's cage fifteen minutes by Shrewsbury clock. 
 But, oh! my bird of birds "half angel and half bird " 
 
 there's nae luck about the house when my gude 
 
 Mauve's awa'. 
 
 Her ain 
 
 AULD NANNIE. 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 9. 
 Dearest Paulina, 
 
 It is a beautiful day, cool and sparkling, and Mamma 
 has gone to Dr. Donald's funeral. 
 
 Our hearts have been very full of him these last weeks 
 
 ever since we heard the solemn word "dying," which 
 is always new and sudden, however long expected. 
 
 He has always been a kind friend to this family. 
 
 Mercifully, the pain stopped at the last, but it has 
 been a long, hard crossing, and, for the rest, it has all 
 been so tragically piteous that it takes one by the throat. 
 If every one had been as generous and affectionate and 
 loyal as Mr. Paine! 
 
 There Blame deserts, there his unfaltering dogs 
 He from the chase recalls, and homeward rides, 
 Yet Praise and Love pass over and go in.
 
 410 1904 
 
 Our neighbor, Mr. Weston, died suddenly the other 
 night, which will make the poor " Owl " long more than 
 ever to be at home. It seems sometimes as tho' no sound 
 reached across the ocean but the knelling of bells. 
 
 This morning I saw the first Golden-winged Warbler 
 and (with the first red leaf on the sumachs) he made 
 me realize, with a pang, that summer is on the wane. 
 Such a beautiful summer, with what Shakespeare calls 
 "shiny nights." 
 
 A Song-sparrow feeds on the path now and sings grace 
 but the Cardinal mystery is still unsolved. That big, 
 striped young one was the authentic "Baby Sphinx." 
 It was, line for line, a female Rose-breasted Grosbeak, 
 and yet 
 
 Do you think they could have hired a baby to hold 
 under their shawl while they sang, " Who will buy my 
 sweet lavender? " 
 
 I really am better, not worth much but very grate- 
 ful when I realize how I was the first two or three 
 weeks after you left and how I am now. 
 
 Pussy is getting fond of Sophie, but she is never gush- 
 ing, you know. 
 
 Congo is still weeping for his lost family, tho' we do 
 our best. Indeed, he has blacked himself all over for 
 the part of chief mourner, and sits on their doorsteps 
 singing the coronach. Bella's island is a great success 
 even tho' no Ferdinand in the form of a hired Harvard 
 student has been wrecked there yet. 
 
 You get an occasional communication from Mrs. 
 Carderelli and Mrs. Morgan and Rita Crombie which 
 we answer.
 
 Aet. 35 411 
 
 But what is a letter without a conversation between 
 the two familiar dramatis personae? 
 
 A. Virginia would like you to buy her some currants 
 to keep her bill pink. 
 
 Mrs. S. Would blueberries do as well? 
 
 We dote. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 August 12. 
 My precious Baby, 
 
 I must begin my tomorrow's letter today not that 
 I intend, tell that brutal Linkstress, to write the kind 
 of birthday letter she does, which leaves the recipient 
 bathed in blushes and tears. 
 
 Lily and I were talking of the futility of attempting 
 
 to cheer with such vacant chaff as * ' gaining a new 
 
 sister," even if it were not rather blasphemous to fling 
 round the name of sister, which ' ' we two knew the 
 meaning of." 
 
 "Perhaps 'new' makes the distinction," Lily sug- 
 gested, but I told her a new sister was what I gained 
 thirty-two years ago this very Friday. She was dear 
 then, but her dearness has gone multiplying like the 
 nails in that horseshoe. 
 
 Aug. 13. 
 
 Sophie is bustling about all smiles, for her Ida comes 
 this afternoon and like Kitty her attendant is more 
 affectionate than she likes to own up to. 
 
 I shall be glad to have another mouth to feed for the 
 sake of Hilton and Woodward. 
 
 You never saw such ridiculous letters as I write them. 
 Occasionally as an encouragement we ask the price
 
 412 1904 
 
 of things which we don't buy. Last time, as I told 
 Mamma, we were very dashing and inquired the price 
 of tame ducks. Ducks, mark you instead of the 
 market value of half a tame duck. 
 
 By the way, isn't that what I am, now my Siamese 
 has been cut from me? or is it half a wild goose? 
 
 I had a delightful call from Miss Ida Mason last 
 evening. She came after Diana so she was contraband 
 goods, but "nice customs curtsey to great Kings" and 
 she only comes to the Winthrops twice a summer for 
 one night. She gave me good accounts of Mrs. Perkins 
 who had had her house filled with young descendants 
 who needed her which, tho' somewhat fatiguing, has 
 been cheerful and comforting. 
 
 It is another glorious Autumnal morning and I have 
 sent Mamma out to call on Mrs. Morse and Mrs. Dalton. 
 I am so glad you saw Mrs. Dexter, "and now," as 
 Mamma said in triumph, "I have something to tell 
 her." It is news, you know, that she met you. We 
 celebrated your birthday last evening by opening a new 
 box of Page and Shaw. 
 
 And now " my dearly beloved and longed-for, my joy 
 and crown so stand fast in the Lord, dearly beloved." 
 
 Your own loving old only 
 
 SISTER. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, Aug. 17th. 
 
 Darling Teeny, think of this being almost the last let- 
 ter! That seems so near, that three weeks and two days 
 which it is literally seems dreadfully long. 
 
 When I feel rather desolate I say "Rockets! " which
 
 Aet. 35 413 
 
 means I am sinking, wrecked in deep waters and send- 
 ing up signals of distress, but Gamdge, who is the only 
 lighthouse within reach, has let out her lamp and is not 
 even looking seaward, she says, but in her kitchen eat- 
 ing apple- tarts. 
 
 You needn't expect to find a sensible family when you 
 get home. We are exactly the same, if not more so. 
 
 Mamma is still human and Mrs. Linnet-like. I tell 
 her I don't dare quote Coleridge to her for fear she'll 
 say he was the man who took opium and left his chil- 
 dren for Sou they to bring up. As for Watts, the artist, 
 she can only look on him as the first husband of Ellen 
 Terry! 
 
 I had a most charming letter from Ellen at her French 
 chateau. We felt as tho' we were there in the hot sun- 
 shine. 
 
 Was it too hot for her to get to Paris to see you? 
 
 We read the accounts of European heat as if it were 
 a dream. We stayed in Spring-time and now Autumn 
 has come, and the birds, instead of singing, talk eagerly 
 of the South. It is sad work, but " who can keep the 
 bird from following the flown Summer? " Each morn- 
 ing when the Cardinals come up to breakfast I am grate- 
 ful my dear tailless Virginia hasn't decided to climb to 
 Florida from bush to bush. 
 
 Your own Permanent Resident. 
 
 To Miss ELLEN HOOPER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 18. 
 Dearest Ellen, 
 
 Your tissue paper played the part of a magic carpet 
 and transported us to your charming French chateau, 
 lying so peaceful under the hot sunshine. I wish the
 
 4:14 1904: 
 
 sunshine hadn't been quite so hot on your account 
 and did you see my children? 
 
 Paulina's letters today are still tremulous with the 
 vision and glory of Chartres Cathedral. 
 
 I am glad Mrs. Whitman had it before she died. I 
 say died, but I can't believe it can't believe that I 
 shall touch her hand no more. As when your father 
 went, I understood it best lying out in the quiet hours 
 of sunrise and sunset. 
 
 Mrs. Dow came to see me one afternoon, and I am so 
 glad you told me of her. 
 
 As for Diana, she comes once a week, and I am some- 
 times cheered and sometimes much discouraged about 
 her health but always profoundly impressed by the 
 gallant struggle she is making Jacob's struggle "in 
 the darkness with the unseen." 
 
 I miss you every minute and my Ethel as for Paul- 
 ina but we are doing bravely and every one is most 
 kind and devoted. 
 
 Gamdge and I have merry times together and read 
 exciting novels and take early beds. The first two or 
 three weeks I kept her very anxious, but she has had 
 time to pick up since and looks remarkably well. 
 
 My birds are more fascinating than ever, but alas! 
 the Thrushes have ceased singing and the little warblers 
 are gathering up their feather skirts to be gone. 
 
 Paulina writes that she has seen Storks! but they are 
 not confined to Europe. 
 
 And now, my darling, good-bye and God bless you 
 
 and bring you safe home to 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY.
 
 Aet. 35 415 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 August 19, 20, 21. 
 
 Here's a fat letter for my darling to put under her 
 pillow so long as they won't let her stick hatpins into 
 the air-mattress and is she really coming home 
 leaving all the glories and the visions behind her on the 
 mountains because " love dwelleth in the valley " ? 
 
 I am glad Mrs. Whitman saw Chartres before she 
 died. I was struck, in reading Coleridge's translation 
 of ' ' Wallenstein " the other day, with something Wal- 
 lenstein says after Max is killed: 
 
 This anguish will be wearied down, I know 
 What pang is permanent with man ? 
 For the strong hours conquer him 
 Yet I feel what I have lost in him. 
 The bloom is banished from my life. 
 
 The strong hours do conquer us the pang is "grieved 
 down " somehow, but I think the dumb, numb heartache 
 is much the worst to bear. 
 
 Mamma is gone to town she and Dickson, to put 
 their arms round the poor little Chief Justice. 
 
 It needs a good deal of coaxing to make Gamdge 
 desert her post even for a few hours, but when she in- 
 terferes with my Napoleonic plans I call her "Grouchy " 
 with the pronunciation in the English mode. 
 
 My plans, as you may guess, are more of the ' ' Poli- 
 tique de Longwood " than of the haute politique. 
 
 Where, for instance, Sophie and Ida shall drive. 
 
 A happier pair you never saw, and Sophie deserves it 
 after her enthusiastic devotion to all her strange duties.
 
 416 1904 
 
 I tell her she must have printed on her business cards, 
 " Currying cats a specialty." 
 
 Oh! Mauvaise! your little charge is more bewitching 
 than ever. As she lies sleeping on my bed I have fas- 
 tened on her collar. So that if she did get lost, you 
 know!! 
 
 She sends you a hard, rubbing kiss, preceded by a 
 curtsey one of her curtseys! 
 
 Aug. 20. 
 
 To go back to " Wallenstein," which we've been read- 
 ing Mamma turned so eagerly to the Piccolomini that 
 I told her she thought " Tiny Tim " was the hero. 
 
 We've left the Thirty Years' War now and the French 
 Revolution, and betaken ourselves to ' ' Silas Lapham. " 
 
 It seems rather quiet indeed, the Lapham family 
 life at the South End is almost as quiet as ours now. 
 
 Did you know Mrs. Dexter, in her last letter, still 
 hopes we have visitors? Tho', unless we had the Pris- 
 oner of Chillon and kept him immured in the parlor 
 
 There is the greatest thumping overhead, where 
 Mamma and William and Ben pursue the imaginary 
 buffalo bug among the trunks. William, who keeps a 
 marshal's baton in the whipholder, is ordering Ben 
 about with great zeal. 
 
 He said of Mr. the other day that he was "fear- 
 ful! fearful! " but, as I told Mamma, his only other ex- 
 pression, "A perfect little beauty, "was hardly appli- 
 cable. 
 
 It's blowing a gale outside and there is no letter. 
 Yesterday one from Ethel. 
 
 Your Paris news seems a happy mixture of cathedrals 
 and restaurants le tour d'Eglise and le tour d' Argent. 
 
 I merely mention one of our entremets:
 
 Aet. 35 417 
 
 11 Doughnuts a la Princess Colonna! " 
 
 If only this storm would stop howling but it started 
 in St. Louis and has swept over the whole country 
 drowning New York city in rain. Virginia and her 
 Cardinal, when they leave the safe harbour of the hem- 
 lock hedge to eat, anchor themselves tight to the edge 
 of the bird-table and reef their top-gallant crests. 
 
 Sunday, Aug. 21. 
 
 A glorious, bright morning, with the weather pretend- 
 ing it has never done anything but smile, and who will 
 be here Sunday after-next after-next, to listen to 
 the Baptist Church bells, from her nest among the 
 tree-tops? "J'ai vaincu le participe passe" is noth- 
 ing to mentally conquering the paulo-post future, and 
 realizing that when you get this the wonder-world will 
 lie behind you as a dream when one awakeneth. 
 
 By means of scraps of paper, in the form of postcards, 
 these hounds of affection have tracked their fox as far 
 as Amiens. But England seems only a bright blur. 
 
 Did you see Sir Louis at last and Mary Beaumont? 
 but of course you must and Professor Cunningham 
 and that nouveau ricJie, the Duke of Argyle? 
 
 Tell Ethel all my callers are nice, but three of them I 
 love through and through with my soul, as well as my 
 heart and they are Mrs. Higginson and Miss Fanny 
 Morse and her Lily. 
 
 And now good-bye, darling, and God bless you all and 
 bring you safe home to 
 
 Your loving 
 
 ALICE.
 
 418 1904 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 All Saints' Day. 
 Dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 Today, when we try to enter more closely into the 
 Communion of Saints our friends who are separated 
 from us not only by death, but absence seem very 
 near. You and Ellen are with me tho' I do long to 
 hear your voices and feel the touch of your hands. 
 
 When we reach " 48 " on Thursday there will be no 
 yellow flower in my room with your welcome, will there? 
 But the love will be there, I know. It is a sad winter 
 that is beginning, and my heart grows faint and sick 
 when I think of driving past Mrs. Whitman's empty 
 house. But not when I think of her. After all, the 
 earthly homes are but "an image of the heavenly." 
 The little memorial pamphlet has reached you by this 
 time, and wasn't Richard Cabot's speech beautiful? 
 Her own words are like a trumpet call. 
 
 Some day I must write and tell you of all Paulina's 
 Convention doings and Dickson's enthusiasm over all 
 the heroic pioneer work the Church is doing. Monday I 
 had a long and most interesting call from Bishop Brent. 
 He is a splendid man, doing a splendid work, and talks 
 with a sober hopefulness that fills one with confidence. 
 
 Indeed, I do know how you are feeling about Susie 
 and the joy for her and the personal loneliness and the 
 sad new beginning. I am sorry you are not going to 
 cuddle down into our nest, which is torn too with time 
 and storms. One day at a time, and God with us. He 
 who is " the same yesterday, today and forever." 
 
 Yours lovingly, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 36 419 
 
 To Miss ELLEN HOOPER. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 November 12th. 
 
 Thirty-two years ago today, when I was four years 
 and two days old, and quite unconscious of my good for- 
 tune, Ellen Hooper was born in Brookline, was it? 
 to make the world a different place to some of us. 
 
 Oh, my dear, I wish we had you here this winter. 
 
 Beginnings are heavy work and make us realize how 
 many things have ended for us here. 
 
 Have you seen the Memorial of Mrs. Whitman yet? 
 but of course you have and the extracts of her let- 
 ters to Richard Cabot? They are so full of her and the 
 spirit in which she lived and loved. 
 
 Mrs. Parkman is taking her Bible Class, which seems 
 beautiful and fitting, does it not? And the money for 
 the memorial window at Radcliffe has been raised. 
 Radcliffe makes me think of Mrs. Agassiz, who is mar- 
 vellously better, the cloud quite lifted from her mind 
 and the old peace and sunshine come back. 
 
 Mrs. Higginson was radiant over it when she was here 
 Thursday. 
 
 But she brought us word that you were poorly so 
 poorly, we gathered, in a vague way, that we were 
 greatly relieved to hear the facts from Ethel. 
 
 So you are to go to Spain ' ' with April and the swal- 
 low" to say nothing of the nightingale, when the 
 oranges and pomegranates are in bloom in the garden 
 of the Alhambra? It sounds so beautiful that we are 
 almost reconciled to not putting our arms round you 
 for still another month. Almost, but not quite. In 
 Spain or Egypt we hold you close in our hearts. 
 
 Your NANNY.
 
 420 1905 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Because thou servedst not the Lord thy God with joy- 
 fulness and with gladness of heart. 
 
 Mercy is not in any way inconsistent with justice, but 
 only the riper form, of it. Now of the ancients, for the 
 most part, it may be said that they had not enough jus- 
 tice to have any mercy. " Ecce Homo." 
 
 He left the solution to Jehovah and made the grief 
 his own. Neither he nor any other sufferer of the olden 
 time could analyze the cup which the Father had given 
 him to drink. . . . It is divinely strange that his 
 strengthening and confidence came not with a promise 
 of relief and comfort, but with an assurance that his 
 present conflict was but a foretaste of sterner and more 
 agonizing strife. " For thou hast run against footmen 
 and they wearied thee; then how wilt thou compete 
 with horses? " The rock which dashed his ship to 
 pieces bore him up, wounded and bleeding, beyond the 
 reach of the breakers. McCuRDY on Jeremiah. 
 
 Pity was to be henceforth no stranger, greeted occa- 
 sionally, but a familiar companion and bosom friend. 
 
 "Ecce Homo." 
 
 That is the real use of a high standard, that it should 
 be something that enables one to help others from their 
 own point of view, not to change all at once that point 
 of view to one's own. CREIGHTON. 
 
 Hope is the mark of all the souls whom God has made 
 His friends. DANTE.
 
 Aet. 36 421 
 
 The Crucifix stood there a perpetual reminder that 
 happiness is not an end, but an accident, and that pain 
 is the choice of the magnanimous. STEVENSON. 
 
 They, like men indeed, fortifying courage with the 
 true rampart of patience, did so endure, as they did 
 rather appear governors of necessity than servants to 
 fortune. SIR PHILIP SYDNEY. 
 
 Do valiantly and hope confidently and wait patiently. 
 
 JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 I must bear it inevitably and I will by God's help bear 
 it nobly. 
 
 By Friendship I mean the greatest love, and the great- 
 est usefulness, and the most open communication, and 
 the noblest sufferings, and the most exemplary faithful- 
 ness, and the severest truth, and the heartiest counsel, 
 and the greatest union of mind of which brave men 
 and women are capable. JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 A man cannot touch his neighbor's heart with any- 
 thing less than his own. GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 
 Unless you are deliberately kind to every one you 
 meet you will be unintentionally cruel every day of 
 your life. RUSKIN. 
 
 Sunrise should mean for us, as for the Greeks, daily 
 restoration to the sense of passionate gladness and of 
 perfect life the thrilling of new strength through 
 every nerve the shedding over us of a better peace 
 than the peace of night in the power of the dawn. 
 
 RUSKIN.
 
 422 1905 
 
 It may be truly said that in working out his salvation 
 the invalid needs the heart of a chevalier, the soul of a 
 believer and the temperament of a martyr; and more 
 than any other mortal he has to learn to put his trust 
 in the strength of the spirit. LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 It [suffering] taught me the worth of little pleasures 
 as well as the utility and dignity of great pains. 
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 
 
 My body suffers great pain, but my soul is as quiet 
 as a mirror, and has sometimes fine sunrises and sun- 
 sets. HEINE. 
 
 Our business in this world is not to succeed, but to 
 continue to fail in good spirits. 
 
 Little do ye know your own blessedness, for to travel 
 hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true 
 success is to labor. 
 
 And even if death catch people like an open pitfall in 
 mid career . . . does not life go down with better grace 
 foaming in full body over a precipice than miserably 
 straggling to an end in sandy deltas? STEVENSON. 
 
 Some far home-grief that hath bowed her low. 
 
 Can that joy old, 
 
 Or friends once linked in sunshine, when the cold 
 
 Storm falleth, not together meet the sea ? 
 
 MURRAY'S translation of " Euripides." 
 
 But when a whole life one long battle is. 
 
 The bitter tide of calamity has risen above her lips.
 
 Aet. 36 423 
 
 In new-shed tears for sorrow long gone by. 
 
 On the Death of Her Cat. 
 
 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing and one of 
 them shall not fall to the ground without your Father? 
 
 With Love's too precious to be lost, 
 A little grain shall not be spilt. 
 
 And the creature shall be delivered from the bondage 
 of corruption. 
 
 The hostility between man and the beasts not only 
 formed once upon a time the chief material obstacle in 
 the progress of the race, but remains still, to the reli- 
 gious thinker, the most pathetic portion of that groan- 
 ing and travailing of all creation which is so heavy a 
 burden on his heart. GEORGE ADAM SMITH. 
 
 Ripae ulterioris amor the love of the other shore. 
 
 Ignem sui amoris accendat Deus in cordibus nostris. 
 Amen. 
 
 One of the old Fathers said of Christ, " He dwelt in a 
 tent of the same material as ours." 
 
 Let me speak 
 
 Who may not speak again 
 
 Whose spirit yearns 
 For a cool night after this weary day. 
 
 The common Semitic word for God, El, denotes ety-
 
 424 1905 
 
 mologically the goal; that is, him or that to which all 
 human longing aspires, or must aspire. 
 
 CORNILL'S " Prophets of Israel." 
 
 His windows being open to Jerusalem. DANIEL. 
 
 All is well. 
 
 Had He not turned us in His hand and thrust 
 Our high things low and shook our hills as dust, 
 We had not been this splendour, nor our wrong 
 An everlasting music for the song 
 Of earth and heaven. 
 
 Go, women, lay our dead 
 In His low sepulchre. He had His meed of garlanding. 
 
 'Tis we, 'tis we, 
 That dream, we living. 
 
 From GILBERT MURRAY'S translation of 
 
 " The Trojan Woman." 
 
 Anniversary of Mrs. Whitman's death, June 24. 
 
 If beautiful to me while still in sight, 
 How beautiful must be your aspects now ; 
 Your unknown, well-known aspects in that light 
 Which clouds shall never cloud for evermore. 
 
 For to miss joy is to miss all. STEVENSON. 
 
 Jesus made love and humility one. Humility is not 
 a virtue by itself; but it is pure receptivity, the ex- 
 pression of inner need, the prayer for God's grace and 
 forgiveness and, in a word, the opening up of the heart 
 to God. HARNACK.
 
 Aet. 36 425 
 
 And Jesus was left alone and the woman standing in 
 the midst. St. John, viii, 9. 
 
 Two persons were left. Augustine says, "The un- 
 happy woman and Compassion Incarnate." 
 
 (Relicta sunt duo miser a et miser icordia.) 
 
 The story of the life of one to whom love was the 
 supreme revealer, and life but an opportunity for loving. 
 
 From Creighton's Life. 
 
 All one can do is to watch the conflict and be ready 
 to cheer the combatant when weary. But remember, 
 the cheering must not be cowardly. It is no good say- 
 ing to the panting, struggling creature, ' ' How hard it 
 is for you to have to fight the battle. I don't want to 
 help the soldiers to groan, I want to get them to win." 
 
 To obtain first a secure mooring for one's self among 
 the tempestuous sea of doubts and passions and dif- 
 ficulties, and then to be ready to warn others from ship- 
 wreck, or to save them when they are shipwrecked; 
 this is all we can do. 
 
 We cannot get others to steer by our own charts or 
 follow our course. CREIGHTON. 
 
 Sunday, October 22, 1905. 
 
 It is easier to win spoils from death than to keep them 
 untarnished by life. Shame burns warm in a soldier's 
 heart when he sees the arms he risked death to win 
 rusting for want of a little care. Ours will not burn 
 less if we discover that the strength of character we 
 brought with us out of some great tribulation has been 
 slowly weakened by subsequent self-indulgence or van-
 
 426 1905 
 
 ity. How awful to have fought for character with 
 death only to squander it upon life! It is well to keep 
 praying, "My God, suffer me not to forget my bonds 
 and my bitterness." GEORGE ADAM SMITH. 
 
 Nov. 1905. 
 
 Anguish gave way to sympathy. The mystery be- 
 came the stimulus to a mission. 
 
 The Just shall live by f aithf ulness steadfastness. 
 
 HABAKKUK. 
 
 Happiness is growth into the purpose of the world. 
 
 CREIGHTON. 
 Shelley says, 
 
 Who, when my being overflowed, 
 Was like a chalice to bright wine, 
 Which else had sunk into the thirsty earth. 
 
 It is all there. One's being overflows; there are 
 thoughts which it is hard to express; one does not 
 know their value; if there is no one to receive them 
 they sink into the earth and leave no trace. 
 
 But love is there with a golden chalice to catch them 
 and show their brightness another beauty and make 
 them a perpetual possession. 
 
 Life has no more to give than the opportunity of lov- 
 ing service. CREIGHTON. 
 
 Sympathy cannot be cultivated in itself; it has no 
 rules. It is born of insight and rests on respect. It is 
 the result of all life's training.
 
 Aet. 36 427 
 
 The Christian, through submission to God, is con- 
 stantly growing out of selfish ideals into a perception 
 of the world as God's world. 
 
 But this process is never completed here. All he can 
 hope to do is to carry away the rudiments of a teachable 
 soul to face the knowledge of the hereafter. 
 
 CREIGHTON. 
 
 Infinite pity is needed for the infinite pathos of human 
 life.
 
 428 1905 
 
 To MRS. COPLEY AMORY. 
 Dear Mary, 
 
 I was so glad to hear from Mary Lothrop that your 
 father was better. Mrs. Lyman had lunched with Mrs. 
 Peabody Monday and spoke of the more comfortable day 
 and comfortable night. 
 
 How has Mrs. Russell borne the terrible strain and 
 you, dear Mary? And Ellen? 
 
 Mrs. Higginson writes that she left the South with 
 Annie. One would fear that that poor child would be 
 crushed under the heavy burden of sorrow and anxiety 
 if one did not see again and again how those who are 
 called on to suffer are wonderfully upheld and strength- 
 ened. The new seal on the old promise, ' ' When thou 
 passeth thro' the waters I will be with thee, and thro' 
 the rivers they shall not overflow thee, for I, the Lord, 
 will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not." 
 
 Affectionately yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 February 15th. 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 Dear Gertrude, 
 
 In a little silk case, in my bureau drawer, lie the 
 handkerchiefs that are too pretty for me to carry in 
 private life. 
 
 Here is the prettiest of them all, which Mr. Higgin- 
 son brought me years ago, and which is growing yellow 
 with age. 
 
 Luckily, it has no initials on it, and I thought you 
 would carry it for me. 
 
 It brings you much love, this 27th of March, and
 
 Aet. 36 429 
 
 hopes that your new year will deal lovingly with you 
 and yours. 
 
 It is twelve years now, isn't it, since I came to know 
 you in the days when the sorrow and triumph stood 
 close together, as they do now. 
 
 And Time, which none can bind, 
 Though flowing fast away, 
 Leaves Love behind. 
 
 Yours then and now and always 
 
 ALICE. 
 March 25th, 1905. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 Sunday Morning. 
 Dear, dear Ethel, 
 
 Our chief thought is a great thankfulness that William 
 is spared the dreary, dependent years stretched so tragi- 
 cally before him that the brave, untiring spirit has 
 escaped from the worn and crippled body. 
 
 Set free at last, 
 
 The short pang pas>sed. 
 
 But oh, my dear! I wish you could have been spared 
 the sudden shock and horror and all the responsibility. 
 
 Spared, too, the grief that must come to you all at the 
 loss of so old and faithful a friend one so interwoven 
 with the home life of the past. 
 
 We longed to have you here last night to hold you 
 in our arms. But we keep you always in our heart of 
 hearts. 
 
 God bless you, darling you and yours, now and 
 
 forever. 
 
 Your 
 
 NANNY.
 
 430 1905 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH FOSTER. 
 
 Easter. 
 
 Dearest Bessie, 
 
 Easter came in more brightly because my "old sol- 
 dier " was a little better and I had a note in her own 
 hand tho' I know that as Stevenson wanted on his 
 tomb " that he died with the paddle still in his hand," 
 so you still clasp the pen. And I had wanted a pretty 
 green dish to set out in my window aviary at Manches- 
 ter so the Easter Hare just jumps with my wishes. 
 
 Apropos of aviaries Mrs. Lodge's Mocking-bird and the 
 new parlour-maid's pet canary are adding their songs to 
 my bird chorus, so I feel as if all the Easter eggs in crea- 
 tion had been successfully hatched and reared in my 
 room. I am better, and wish muchly that there was 
 any hope of our meeting on Thursday. I saved you a 
 joke of Paulina's, which is about as apt a quotation as 
 I ever heard. Was it ever said before? Mr. Kidner, 
 speaking of some friend who had married his type- 
 writer, added, "That is evidently the career for a 
 bright girl who wants to get married." 
 
 "Yes," said Paulina, who is up in "In Memoriam," 
 if nothing else, 
 
 " So careful of the type she seems, 
 So careless of the single life." 
 
 Isn't that good? Paulina has just come back from 
 Mrs. Bell and Mrs. Pratt "Royal folks at breakfast 
 time" and sweet and sprightly as ever. Friday I 
 had a long and very dear call from Mrs. Lodge. 
 
 And now, my dear, dear old Bessie, I want to wish 
 you every best Easter wish and to tell you that this 
 family can enter into the joy of the day not more
 
 Aet. 36 431 
 
 deeply, but with less tribulation, than a year ago. 
 And for our dear dead, for Mrs. Whitman, in especial, 
 who was with us a year ago we too see the vision of 
 angels. 
 
 On each Easter after Christ's Resurrection "The 
 graves are opened and the bodies of the saints arise and 
 come into the holy city and appear unto many." 
 
 With true love, 
 
 Always yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 April 29, 1905. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 When I directed this envelope I hoped to write you 
 a Palm Sunday letter, but it is not too late to wish you 
 every beautiful Easter joy. The light of that day shines 
 for us thro' the year. 
 
 I have thought of you much of late, for if Mr. 's 
 
 defalcation struck us, who were strangers, with shame 
 and horror, what must it have been to you? and a man 
 brought up under your father, who carried the highest 
 Christian ideals into every detail of life " through dusty 
 lane and wrangling mart." 
 
 But perhaps, dear, I only pain you. The longer I 
 live the more I realize the solidarity of mankind. We 
 stand and fall together the sin of the sinner is our 
 sin, but also the virtue of the saints. From ourselves 
 we turn to " The Lord our Righteousness." 
 
 By the way, I must tell you of a joke of Mrs. Bell's.
 
 432 1905 
 
 Mrs. Bell spoke of the strange consolation some peo- 
 ple took in " Amiel's Journal." " Now I could bear it 
 if he had written one page and signed it Jane! People 
 may be gloomy and desperate but gloomy and slack! 
 He's like * Marianna in the Moated Grange.' If she'd 
 got up and washed one of those windows she might 
 have said she felt just the same, but she wouldn't." 
 Isn't that both wit and wisdom? 
 
 Write and tell me when you become an aunt and how 
 you are and address me Manchester. We move Thurs- 
 day and I long for the freshness and green and quiet. 
 And we hope it will make Paulina sleep. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE W. S.
 
 Aet. 36 433 
 
 SUMMER OF 1905. BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 
 I have kept the bird in my bosom. 
 May 9. 
 
 A sharp, short thunderstorm at dawn ushers in what 
 promises to be a rainy day and only forty-five degrees at 
 seven o'clock. But it clears off warm and lovely so I 
 get out at ten for nine and a half hours. See the soli- 
 tary, silent Chippy feeding on the path, the Chicka- 
 dees, "lovers newly wed," Oven-birds, Black-throated 
 Greens (the female proves to be a songful young male 
 in a small necktie), Black-and-white Creepers. Get the 
 Humming-birds' nasturtium bed planted. The male 
 Chickadee lands on the Mikado's cage and then flies 
 round the corner of the house where the rustic bird- 
 house is, calls his mate softly and flies back. (Does 
 he think of hiring it? and is he my Smutty? and where 
 is Downy with his drum? and those ungrateful Nut- 
 hatches?) 
 
 In the late afternoon get a splendid view of my first 
 Blue Jay, being pursued by an angry Robin, then a 
 pair of Jays, Swifts, Purple Finch. Robins sit about 
 solitary or in pairs, one "sighing like a furnace; " much 
 song from them. Song-sparrows mixed with "purple 
 warbling" and an occasional flight-song. Then later, 
 against a golden sunset and under a crescent moon, the 
 Wood Thrush chants vespers. 
 
 I love the birds and their sweet voices in the lulling 
 song of the woods. Old Welsh Bard. 
 
 May 10. 
 
 A cool, bright blue day with a high west wind. 
 (Out eight hours.) A Red Squirrel, alas, feeds on the
 
 434 1905 
 
 table. A Wood Thrush strolls about the path and 
 among the dry leaves under the hemlocks all the morn- 
 ing, as tame as the Oven-birds themselves. One Oven- 
 bird drinks from the big tub, then a Chipmunk drinks 
 there. 
 
 The Chickadee pair call each other in soft, plaintive 
 voices and again discuss taking the rustic bird-house. 
 See Barn Swallows, Black-throated Greens, and Black- 
 and-whites, Robins, and then my first White-breasted 
 Nuthatch, the " Policeman," walking head first down a 
 mound pine. Later, see him again and hear Vireos 
 loud on the hillside. Early afternoon exquisitely still 
 and warm. See an Oven-bird taking his preliminary 
 run up a staircase of trees before his flight-song. A 
 second Wood Thrush joins the one below. 
 
 May 13. 
 
 In days when daisies deck the ground, 
 And Robins whistle clear, 
 With honest joy our hearts will bound 
 To see the coming year. 
 
 BURNS. 
 
 Waked to the warbling of the Rose-breasted Gros- 
 beak, apparently just outside our windows, but not 
 able to look out. Hear also the near mew of a Catbird 
 and see from my bed a Blue Jay in Paulina's oak, her 
 mouth full of twigs. 
 
 Yesterday the pink buds on my oak opened into pale 
 leaves and the barberry bushes are deep green now, 
 instead of bare twigs as they were May 4th. "And 
 Spring comes slowly up this way," but she has come at 
 last.
 
 Aet. 36 435 
 
 Sophie plants the lower garden, with Oven-birds walk- 
 ing round her. She sees two Yellow-throated Vireos. 
 
 Paulina walking into the woods behind us in the late 
 afternoon hears two Hermit Thrushes sing in rivalry! 
 
 May 14, Sunday. 
 
 A gray and cloudy morning. Hear early the rich 
 carolling of what I call the Rose-breasted Grosbeak. 
 Get out to breakfast. See Blue Jays, Robins, Oven- 
 birds, Chippy, Barn Swallows and Swifts. 
 
 Hear Downy's distant drumming and the mew of a 
 Catbird. Then my first Catbird hops up through the 
 barberry tangle into my oak, flies down and drinks 
 from the big tub, gives me a song and departs, instantly 
 followed by Mrs. Downy, who flies at once to the suet 
 and makes a good meal. 
 
 Saw four courting, fighting, love-sick Oven-birds all 
 at once on the Chipmunk's stone with erected crests 
 and drooping wings. Out only till half past eleven. 
 Paulina sees the renegade Chickadees twice return to 
 feed on the table and suet. 
 
 May 17. 
 
 Opens drizzly and dark after a cold, wet night. Wood 
 Thrushes glorious, and hear the Towhee, Catbird, etc. 
 Look out early and see my Chickadees at breakfast. 
 See in my tree together a Blue-headed Vireo and a 
 small Warbler with a yellow breast whom I take for a 
 Parula without a necktie, but after breakfast Sophie 
 comes to say she has just seen from the sun-parlor 
 window a tiny bird with a green back, gold waistcoat 
 and small, black cap: Wilson's Black Cap of course.
 
 4:36 1905 
 
 Was my Parula one also? No, for later I see, time 
 after time, little "Wilson" flying about the barberry 
 tangle the first one I ever saw, and such an unmis- 
 takable little fellow. 
 
 See Oven-bird, Mrs. Black-throated Green, Black-and- 
 white Warbler, and the ' ' Policeman" in the crooked pine. 
 Downy on the suet. Sophie sees two smallish Thrushes 
 with uniform colored backs and pale breasts without 
 obvious spots. She shows me one of them in the oak 
 scrub, a Veery, the first ever on our Manchester list. I 
 think a Duck flies over, but what kind ? (The triangular 
 mystery of last summer.) Little Wilson's Black Cap 
 hangs about most of the day near the barberry tangle. 
 A grim, gray day, so like an ice box in temperature that 
 one goes out on foot for a moment and hurries in again 
 to the closed room. 
 
 May 20. Rose-letter day. 
 
 Heavy shower at dawn then clears bright and cold 
 forty-six degrees at seven. 
 
 Florider taps on the window and Hampton Court 
 wakes to the music of Thrushes and birds innumerable. 
 
 Look out early to see the Rose-breasted Grosbeak sing- 
 ing in my tree; three times more we see him in P.'s 
 oak. Also see, before breakfast, Purple Finches, Chick- 
 adees, Catbird, Wood Thrush, Robins, Parula Warbler, 
 the first Wood Pewee in my tree, and all about Mag- 
 nolia and what we thought might be Mrs. Tanager, and 
 a little later what was certainly Mr. Scarlet Tanager, my 
 first male, blazing in the oak scrub. Blackpoll War- 
 bler, Black-and-white, Chestnut-sides, Blue Jay being 
 pursued by Mrs. Humming-bird, Chippy, the Gray- 
 cheeked Thrush.
 
 Aet. 36 437 
 
 But the great feature of the day is the Rose Breasts 
 three beautiful males appear on the hillside and sit 
 about, showing their deep pink neckties and occasionally 
 the pink glow under their wings. Then Sophie sees 
 Mrs. Rose-breasted Grosbeak near the kitchen door, 
 brown and comfortable, surrounded by admirers, and 
 shows her to us. Later she appears in a low oak be- 
 low the crooked pine and her admirers appear with her. 
 One eats barberries in the tangle, one sits in the oak 
 scrub and the mound and the top of my tree. 
 
 June 30. 
 
 Another exquisite day. Thrushes glorious at dawn, 
 and after them a Cardinal solo and much serenading of 
 Virginia. At breakfast time hear a distant warbling 
 of Purple Finches, a Song-sparrow's sweet voice, and 
 nearer an Indigo-bird. 
 
 A Scarlet Tanager sits in my tree and then, after 
 much sly blinking on the piazza, rail, Smutty Chickadee 
 lights on the dish in my hand for the first time takes 
 nothing, but I feel the touch of his dear little claw. 
 
 Chippy comes to eat, and Downy and Catbird on the 
 table. A Robin carries off a long piece of wicking from 
 the sumachs, while Theocrite shrieks, "Stop, thief." 
 See little Chestnut-sides, Pine Warbler and Swifts, and 
 lots of Red-eyed Vireos, Oven-birds on the path and 
 in flight- songs. Goldfinch in the crooked pine, lots of 
 beautiful Barn Swallows again. Black-throated Green 
 and Black-and-white Creeper. Hear again today in the 
 hemlock hedge the unknown little Warbler voice, like 
 the trill of an ecstatic grasshopper. 
 
 Smutty and his wife are here together at three and 
 five and six and seven. (Where are the babies?) When
 
 438 1905 
 
 I am in Smutty flies to and fro from the meal-worm dish 
 by my sofa, and when I come out he comes and sits on 
 the back of the rocking chair and almost comes to me 
 over and over again, but not quite. 
 
 At sunset time the Catbird comes twice to eat currants 
 and the second time has his wife in the tree. Where are 
 their babies? I have had no June babies as yet in my 
 tree and till this last two or three days it has been sur- 
 prisingly birdless for a fortnight or more. 
 
 The Thrushes were never in fuller song nor more 
 invisible. The Eobins are having a second period of 
 song. 
 
 July 1. (Baby month.) 
 
 Not so bright, and very windy. Out only three and a 
 half hours. See both Tanagers (the female in my tree), 
 Catbird on the table, Mr. and Mrs. Chickadee, my first 
 Kingbird, Mrs. Black- throated Green gathering wicking, 
 Swifts and Barn Swallows. At luncheon time hear a 
 chirping of young voices which prove to be a Black- 
 and-white family; one grown-up looking young one is 
 being fed by a parent. 
 
 Toward supper time hear Baby Chickadee voices and 
 find one tailless little darling in my gutter. He joins a 
 still more youthful baby brother on the piazza below, 
 who lets himself be caught by Sophie and brought up 
 to me. He objects to being held, but consents to sit 
 quietly under my little table, and after some futile little 
 pecks eats a small meal worm from my hand. Then 
 we leave him after a little he flies bravely into the 
 suet branch and then into the hemlock hedge, calling 
 loudly for his mamma and papa, " dear dear dear."
 
 Aet. 36 439 
 
 July 7. 
 
 Bright and windy after fog at daybreak. Out, on 
 and off, ten hours. The Chickadee babies so grown in a 
 week sit in my tree or near by, and Smutty flies to 
 and from the dish till ruin stares me in the face. 
 
 A Baltimore Oriole sits chocking in the crooked pine, 
 Cedar Wax wings fly over, and a grown-up "Policeman" 
 (White-breasted Nuthatch) hangs about my tree. See 
 Catbirds, Oven-bird and Chippy, Flicker, Pewee, Swifts 
 and Black and- white Warblers. At sunset time, paying 
 no heed to Ellen and Paulina, Smutty dashes to and 
 from the dish in my hand sits on the chairs and the 
 watch-stand and bell, and several times hops up to my 
 knees with throbbing heart and blinking, beady eyes. 
 Babies flutter after him and two land on the bird-table. 
 
 July 26. 
 
 Exquisite blue morning and the little Chickadees 
 learning their love songs against next spring, though 
 they only manage a sweet " Phoe e," to the indigna- 
 tion of Smutty; Virginia still only a faithful tail and 
 patient pink beak. Three Baby Black-and-white War- 
 blers, one Baby Redstart and a Baby Chestnut-sides all 
 come into my tree at once, two of them land on the 
 bird-table and are hissed at by " Theocrite. " See Baby 
 Black-throated Greens, Catbirds, Chippies, Miss Downy, 
 Humming-bird, Swifts, Vireos, Robins, Barn Swallows. 
 In the late afternoon Virginia comes off the nest, not 
 for two minutes, but for twenty, leaving Florider in 
 complete charge of the eggs.
 
 MO 1905 
 
 Oct. 9. 
 
 Seventh shining day (fifty-three degrees at 7 A.M.). 
 When I move out to breakfast a dear little Thrush 
 is tamely hopping up the path below, eating cracker 
 crumbs and one raisin. He joins a friend on the mound 
 who jerks his tail, and yet our little fellow's tail is not 
 "distinctly rufous" enough for a Hermit, and he has 
 white eye-rings and gray lores like a gray-checked, and 
 all the tameness of a Hermit. Later one sits in the 
 sumachs. Out seven perfect hours (sixty-four degrees 
 at 11 A.M.). Cooler afternoon, but exquisite. Hear the 
 Towhee and Kinglets. See Blackpolls, Myrtle Warblers, 
 one young male Black- throated Green, Cedar Wax wings, 
 Kobins, Chickadees, Chippies, and at lunch time a Police- 
 man who comes onto the piazza rail and then again and 
 again onto the table to eat nuts and hemp. Later see 
 a Jay. Bright moonlight night again after a pale pink 
 afterglow. 
 
 Oct. 11. 
 
 A gray morning and the first gray Junco feeding on 
 the path when I step out early. He flies up into a yel- 
 low birch with a clatter of his little castanets. Later 
 he and a friend, one Chippy and one White-throat, feed 
 together on the path and one Junco comes from under 
 the piazza, where he has been seeking his refuge. 
 
 See a Blue Jay, a Brown Creeper, Robin, Chickadees, 
 and Miss Downy and Mrs. "Policeman" (who feeds on 
 the table and behind the little bird-house), Blackpolls, 
 Myrtles and Nashville Warbler. (High wind; indoors 
 all day.)
 
 Aet. 36 441 
 
 To Miss ELIZABETH BALCH. 
 
 MANCHESTER, June 10th. 
 Dear Bessie, 
 
 This is to wish you God-speed and a beautiful summer. 
 
 When you are rested you must write me the prom- 
 ised long letter and tell me why " Whitby," and if 
 "Miss Baker" is a friend or only an address. 
 
 I was so very sorry to hear of the grief that has come 
 to your young people, and thro' them to you all. 
 
 How piteous to have to part with the little life the 
 bud of their joy, before it blossomed! 
 
 Oh, I quite understand how big a place that going 
 left. It isn't length, but depth, is it? and little things 
 strike roots down into the eternal. 
 
 But they bear it together in true love, and sorrow is 
 the most sacred of bonds. 
 
 Did you know that Mrs. Whitman had left directions 
 for a gold chalice for Trinity? In the stem are set the 
 jewels from the bracelet she always wore and at the 
 base her name is inscribed, and " Sursum Corda." 
 
 As Bessie Foster says, when you think how many 
 hearts she lifted up, it makes this beautiful memorial 
 
 the closer. 
 
 Always yours affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Sunday, July 23. 
 Well, my darling, how goes it? 
 
 I tell Theocrite he is a fascinating egoist, but he says 
 all birds are more or less so. " Peep! "
 
 442 1905 
 
 And that reminds me, Virginia is "crouched on her 
 nest, silent, with bright eyes," though the rim is so 
 high one sees scarcely more than a patient pink beak. 
 When she comes off ecstatic old Florider slips on, first 
 looking in with a murmur of " These are my jewels [or 
 jewel]," like your favorite "Father of the Gracchi." 
 Yesterday there was ' ' a corner " in meal worms and 
 Sophie and I could hardly bear the reproachful beady 
 eyes of Smutty and little " Short-hair." We telephoned 
 and were instantly frowned on by Mr. Ludlam. If meal 
 worms were to be had they would have come.' The heat 
 had produced, not prostration, but beetles. However, 
 in the evening some drove up in state by Smith's Ex- 
 press, and we were forgiven. 
 
 Give my human Red Squirrel a hug. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 SISTER. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Tuesday Morning. 
 Dearest Teeny, 
 
 You ought to see my clientele my clientele of feath- 
 ers!! When Sophie or I step out to the clamourous 
 cries of dee-dee not only do Smutty and Short-hair feed 
 from our hands, but Short-hair's brother "Dimple" 
 and the six fat " little Uncles." 
 
 Little Uncles have a Russian sound, and remind me 
 that when Mr. Paine was here last night I read him 
 some extracts from Conrad's "Autocracy and the 
 War " that I had jotted down for you, and then exhib- 
 ited an accurate and profound knowledge of Russian 
 history from chaos to the present time that I had 
 gleaned hastily from "Fisher" the day before.
 
 Aet. 36 443 
 
 However, I had the grace to say so instead of acting 
 as if I "had known it from all Eternity." 
 
 Did we tell you that we had suddenly dropped fathoms 
 deep into the realistic horrors of "Anna Kare'nina"? 
 It depressed us very much at first, but when I asked 
 Gamdge how she liked it she answered that she thought 
 it "very pleasing." Almost as much the inevitable 
 word as our genial Day of Judgment. 
 
 Your dress came last night and is sweet. I am glad 
 you and " Linkstress" have a room alone. A Presby- 
 terian would have been bad enough, but a total immer- 
 sion Baptist!! 
 
 Yours, 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 Sunday, Aug. 5. 
 
 Dear Teeny, 
 
 We hear little voices from Hampton Court. Do you 
 really think ? 
 
 I try hard not to be hopeful. There's a cheery frame 
 of mind! But it isn't every one who can get that deli- 
 cate poise advised by the copy-books. 
 
 Bullen is still somewhat hipped, and says it is pink- 
 stomachic trouble. And Theocrite has two beautiful 
 wing-feathers to send you, but. I refuse to encourage so 
 base a bird. 
 
 And now to the humanities. I am ever so much 
 better and can't think what possessed me Friday. 
 
 We again summoned Dr. Washburn from the vasty 
 deep. The other note had been lost and he was so dis- 
 tressed that he wouldn't rest till it had been found.
 
 444 1905 
 
 "But," I said, " you see it wasn't pressing. ' If con- 
 venient, would he within the next few days.' " " Oh," 
 he said, ' ' I know how you feel when you send that kind 
 of a note. I always come just as quick as I can." 
 
 He never saw me buy parsnips of " Oh! Mr. Clark," 
 and butter them myself beforehand. 
 
 I had a dear call from Mrs. Peabody last night 
 ("Heaven forgive me, Mrs. Lewis, but I do love that 
 woman "), and we were very merry, but not as merry 
 as Thursday afternoon. Did you tell Ethel it was all 
 her fault that we were so " red-squirrelous, " and then 
 we relapsed into the highest Russian Society? It makes 
 me reckless, for when Mamma exclaimed, " Why, it's 
 quarter of nine," I answered I didn't care if it was 
 twenty minutes past!! ' ' Idiot, " I hear you say, { ' Stop 
 her, "said Krututsk. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 8. 
 Darlingest Mauves, 
 
 So this will reach you in the desert island set in un- 
 known seas? 
 
 Mamma wrote Aunt Florence that you were going 
 "to visit one of the Miss Curtises," and there flashed 
 before me an early scene when, after watching you and 
 Bella in charades, we ended an informal evening with 
 dates and threw the stones into an emptied milk jug. 
 
 I hope, by the way, you admire all the light litera- 
 ture I have been able to get into this envelope. 
 
 Fanny was here yesterday after her wanderings 
 among ' ( philanthropi whose heads do grow beneath 
 their shoulders."
 
 Aet. 36 445 
 
 She gave me a sketch of whose last great 
 
 idea is that democracy is a played-out farce and that 
 what we want in this country is an aristocracy and the 
 feudal system. 
 
 Do you think Seattle, North- West, a happy field for 
 this crusade? 
 
 Did Bella tell you of Elinor's answer when Mrs. 
 Curtis, laying down the Cabot memoir, begged no one 
 to publish her literary remains : ' ' The world would be 
 so thrilled over Mrs. G. S. Curtis, Her Life and Postal 
 Cards." 
 
 I see Mrs. Peabody this afternoon for the last time 
 before she returns to her Miltonic heights. I know 
 beforehand we shall talk of Sts. Paul and Paulina. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 August 10th. 
 Dearest Mauves, 
 
 Mamma told you one of the Baby Cardinals had died 
 a pathetically tiny creature but the one who is left, 
 "Mississippi," tho' small for her days, seems a strenu- 
 ous little person, who insists on having her meals served 
 at least every twenty minutes. "And such a tyke," 
 says Virginia proudly, when she fluffs down over her 
 to get her to sleep, and a little, wobbly, open beak will 
 push up between the nest-rim and her feather-double 
 chin. She is more than "a voice and an appetite," is 
 little Miss, and no one could possibly take her mouth for 
 a wrinkle in her forehead.
 
 446 1905 
 
 Florider sings for joy even when his mouth is full, 
 which it is half the time, devoted fellow. 
 
 Mrs. Peabody was here again last night my Cornelia 
 and now we shan't meet till winter. She heard 
 some one preach last Sunday on Cornelius who, he said, 
 was at a time of doubt and difficulty. "I wanted to 
 say if there was ever a man who knew his own mind, " 
 she said, " it was Cornelius, the centurion." Luckily, 
 the Elect Lady restrained herself. 
 
 What more have I to add except that life with 
 Gamdge might be described " as a letting down and 
 pulling up of the yawning"? Oh, yes, and that getting 
 you home Saturday will make it a birthday to me, if it 
 isn't quite one for you, my poor darl ingest. 
 
 Your old 
 
 SISTER. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, Sept. 20. 
 Darling Ethel, 
 
 I hoped to write you Sunday a note, to put its arms 
 round your neck, and say, "Welcome home." Instead 
 I had to lie still, but like the speechless parrot, I " took 
 it out in thinking." 
 
 And when I think of you it makes a warm spot at 
 my heart, "my other little sister," a name not too 
 sacred for you, though you know how sacred I hold it. 
 
 Whether you are here in the flesh a sunshiny pres- 
 ence or "the voice and appetite" in the spare room 
 above, to be bullied and neglected at our sweet will, or 
 among your own people, you are always one of that 
 close circle that means Home.
 
 Aet. 37 447 
 
 In our joy and in our sorrow, on the heights or 
 depths or the long, flat levels of life, you never fail, 
 my darling, and are knit into our hearts, not only by 
 the great cables, but by all the little foolish heartstrings 
 of fondness and trivialities and shared laughter and easy 
 tears. 
 
 Yours always and always, here and beyond, please 
 
 God. 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 MANCHESTER, Thursday, Oct. 5. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 Here we are on my tree-top piazza this early morning 
 Paulina before the long tea-table covered with vol- 
 umes, loose sheets, scrap book, and the priceless paste 
 at her right hand. If only you could work on George 
 Herbert with this background. 
 
 It isn't Indian summer yet, I suppose, but seems to 
 have gathered the beauty of all the seasons up into one. 
 It was sixty degrees at seven o'clock and there is a 
 golden haze over everything. 
 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 
 To MRS. FREDERIC DEXTER. 
 
 (Christmas) Monday Morning. 
 My dearest Mrs. Dexter, 
 
 When you started out into the dark and cold alone 
 last night, looking so piteous and fragile, I longed to 
 put my arms round you and keep you, as I do in my
 
 4:48 1905 
 
 heart, always. And you mustn't feel lonely. But I 
 know you won't on Christmas Day. Then the heavens 
 seem to open and we realize how close it is to the dear 
 old earth. They that sit in darkness have seen a great 
 light. 
 
 I read somewhere that the Germans speak of the dead 
 as " those who are ours forever." May their felt pres- 
 ence be very near to you may God comfort you and 
 make His face to shine upon you more and more till the 
 day breaks and the shadows flee away. 
 
 Yours in true love, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 37 449 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 Blessed are they who know their own insufficiency, 
 their own poverty and weakness, sufficiently to feel their 
 need of the powers of the world to come, of the King- 
 dom of God in their souls. DUBOIS. 
 
 By all thy lives and deaths of love, 
 
 By thy large draught of intellectual day, 
 
 And by thy thirsts of love more large than they. 
 
 CRASHAW. 
 
 O friend, as God might be my friend, 
 Thou only hast not trampled on my tears ; 
 Life scarce can be so hard 'mid many fears 
 And many shames when mortal heart can find 
 Somewhere one healing touch as my sick mind 
 Finds thee and should I wait thy word to endure 
 A little for thine easing? Yea, or pour 
 My strength out in thy toiling fellowship. 
 
 He that hath so many causes of joy is very much in 
 love with peevishness who loses all these pleasures and 
 chooses to sit down upon his little handful of thorns. 
 
 JEREMY TAYLOR. 
 
 The nobler a soul the more objects of compassion it 
 hath. BACON. 
 
 About the Christian there should be a sort of cour- 
 ageous gaiety. NASH. 
 
 January 23, 1906. 
 
 Less yearning for the friendship fled, 
 Than some strong bond that is to be.
 
 450 1906 
 
 March 9.th. Anniversary of Mrs. Paine's death. 
 
 Oh, thou undaunted daughter of desires, 
 By all thy dower of lights and fires, 
 By all the eagle in thee, all the dove. 
 
 Warm both hands at the fire of life. 
 
 The death of anguish which Scripture declares to us 
 to be "necessary," though it does not explain wherein its 
 dire necessity resides, convinced me that God was not 
 content to throw, as moralists and theologians can do so 
 easily, the whole weight and accountability of sin and 
 suffering upon man, but was willing, if this burden 
 might not as yet be removed, to share it with His poor 
 finite heavily burdened creature. 
 
 When I looked upon my agonized and dying God and 
 turned from that world-appealing sight, Christ cruci- 
 fied for us, to look upon life's most perplexed and sor- 
 rowful contradictions, I was not met, as in intercourse 
 with my fellow-men, with the cold platitudes that fall 
 so lightly from the lips of those who have never known 
 one real pang nor whose lives one crushing blow; I 
 was not told that all things were ordered for the best, 
 nor assured that the overwhelming disparities of life were 
 but apparent, but I was met, from the eyes and brow of 
 Him who was indeed acquainted with grief, by a look 
 of solemn recognition such as may pass between friends 
 who have endured between them some strange and 
 secret sorrow and are through it united in a bond which 
 cannot be broken. DORA GREEN WELL. 
 
 Passion Week. 
 
 Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things 
 unto His hands.
 
 Aet. 37 451 
 
 "All things" the sense of absolute sovereignty is 
 the more impressive in the prospect of apparent defeat. 
 Even through treachery and death lay the way to the 
 Resurrection. 
 
 "Into His hands " to deal with as He pleased, even 
 when He was given into the hands of men. 
 
 WESTCOTT. 
 
 Our Comrade Christ. 
 
 The Christian religion is Christ's friendship. We 
 cannot come to any truer friend, as we cannot find a 
 simpler story to tell of it than that. PHILLIPS BROOKS. 
 
 Death of Hamlet. April 3, 1906. 
 
 Hands had stroked them which are cold 
 Now for years in churchyard mould ; 
 Comrades of our past were they, 
 Of that unreturning day. 
 
 Some Greek speaks of life as a shuddering thing. 
 
 Farewell, ye walkers on the shore 
 
 Of death. A God had counselled you. 
 
 GILBERT MURRAY'S " Electra of Euripides." 
 
 One of the sacramental things of life where the eter- 
 nal bursts into beauty. NASH. 
 
 June 24, 1906. Anniversary of Mrs. Whitman's death. 
 There was no lingering, nor acute pain, nor con- 
 sciousness of separation, but God took her to Himself 
 as you would lift a sleeping child from a dark uneasy 
 bed into your arms and the light. 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING, on his wife's death.
 
 452 1906 
 
 Natural death is, as it were, a haven and a rest to us 
 after long navigation. 
 
 And the noble Soul is like a good mariner; for he, 
 when he draws near the port, lowers his sails and enters 
 it softly with gentle steerage. In such a death as this 
 there is no grief nor any bitterness . . . but as a ripe 
 apple is lightly and without violence loosened from its 
 branch, so our soul, without grieving, departs from the 
 body in which it hath been. DANTE'S " Convito." 
 
 Be inspired with the belief that life is a great and 
 noble calling, not a mean and grovelling thing that we 
 are to shuffle through as we can, but an elevated and 
 lofty destiny. GLADSTONE. 
 
 The vision belongs solely to such as have clean and 
 disciplined hearts . MEREDITH. 
 
 Even an injured dog has his Erinyes. 
 
 Greek Proverb. 
 
 As God loveth a cheerful giver so He also loveth a 
 cheerful taker, one who takes hold on His gifts with a 
 glad heart. DONNE. 
 
 Nothing characterized him more than the eagerness 
 with which he greeted the advent of every newly dis- 
 covered truth. He was not a watcher by the tomb, but 
 a man of the resurrection. He lived on the mountain 
 of hope. 
 
 The years teach much which the days never knew. 
 
 EMERSON.
 
 Aet. 37 453 
 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 (Jan.) Tuesday. 
 Dear Mr. Allen, 
 
 We had the nicest seminar last evening over your 
 Herbert only this time you had your say without in- 
 terruption. 
 
 We should have known it was you had it been dug 
 up in undiscovered lands, and laughed for joy when his 
 mother and father struggled for mastery in his temper- 
 ament and Church and State walked in arm in arm fol- 
 lowed closely by St. Augustine and Boethius. 
 
 But we prefer you and George Herbert to Mr. Palmer. 
 
 By the way, your article on Mr. Brooks was found 
 in the mouth of Benjamin's sack or rather in our big 
 carved chest and I am very glad and am going to 
 read it. 
 
 We hope the cold is better, and all wish you a Happy 
 
 New Year. 
 
 Affectionately, 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH. 
 To PROF. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. 
 
 [Reprinted from the " Pacific Monthly" of January, 1908.] 
 
 A Parody. Richard Hodgson. 
 By 
 
 The subject of our study is the expression of three 
 great world tendencies almost so subtle as to escape 
 analysis. First the psychic mood seen in the Gnostics, 
 temporarily suppressed under the historical necessities 
 of the Roman system. Then the joyous phase, know-
 
 454: 1906 
 
 ing no bounds, the contribution to Europe of Bohemia, 
 tracing its origin to John Huss and having its logical 
 end in the Latin Quarter in Paris a tendency having 
 a more beautiful development in Boccaccio and its mod- 
 ern Anglican expression in Prebendary Webb-Peploe. 
 With these two moods was fused, in organic unity, the 
 modern corporate movement the gift which the great 
 Anglo-Saxon race received of the Renaissance. 
 
 Richard Hodgson entered into his legitimate heritage 
 and in him these phenomena contended in order to a 
 higher adjustment in the Society for Psychical Research. 
 Of his mother we know almost nothing, but we are led 
 to believe that her relations were those of Monica to 
 Augustine. His friends, in rearranging his papers, have 
 brought out more clearly the outlines of the great Piper 
 crisis. This is epoch making. 
 
 The lesson of Mr. Hodgson's career is that " wise pas- 
 si veness" which enabled him to receive messages of 
 spiritual content from inanimate objects. 
 
 To Miss ELLEN S. HOOPER. 
 
 Dearest Ellen, 
 
 The day after our talk I came across this passage from 
 Eugenie de Guerin which says one of the things I tried 
 to say when we spoke of the heart of the Gospel not 
 being the Sermon on the Mount, but the Person of 
 Christ. 
 
 "The mystery of suffering makes one grasp the be- 
 lief of something to be expiated, something to be won. 
 I see it in Jesus Christ, the Man of Sorrows. It was 
 necessary that the Son of Man should suffer. That is 
 all we know in the troubles and calamities of life. "
 
 Aet. 37 455 
 
 It was dear to have you for a real long spell the other 
 night and see and touch you, but I always keep you in 
 my heart, darling. 
 
 Mr. Allen says you carry "an atmosphere of inward 
 serenity with you," but I'm human and want the cup 
 to brim for you with red joy. 
 
 Your very loving 
 
 ALICE. 
 January 24th. 
 
 To HER MOTHER. 
 
 HOME, Wednesday Morn. 
 My Dearie O!! 
 
 It was nice to get your pencil note from the abode of 
 the "Plug Uglies" last evening, and still nicer, this 
 breakfast time, to get your Washington letter. 
 
 Bright-eyed people in their beds are not to be encour- 
 aged, tho' it ill becomes me to say so, and we are afraid 
 they are spoiling you for your cold and ascetic home 
 a home rather colder than usual, as I am taking advan- 
 tage of your absence to thoroughly air the front of the 
 house, while Paulina ' ' tends that b'ar for a while " 
 that cinnamon b'ar, Peter and appropriately hauls him 
 over the coals for misdemeanors! 
 
 Yesterday Paulina ran out at noon to the Diocesan 
 House and the service at St. Paul's, and in the after- 
 noon walked out to the Bay State Road, left her card 
 on Mrs. Merriman, and called on Diana. 
 
 In the afternoon we had Mrs. Curtis and then Fanny. 
 Did you know that when Steen was married an hyster- 
 ical passage appeared in the " Post " "Fireman, who 
 has risen by merit, marries beautiful heiress!! "
 
 456 1906 
 
 We think Fanny is beginning to be a little home- 
 sick!! 
 
 I don't know that anything else has happened except 
 that Ward has sent the note-paper. There's what is 
 called sensation. ("Now don't waste it.") But we 
 haven't fallen into the mistake of Aladdin's wife yet, 
 and changed old lamps for new. 
 
 We miss you sleeping in the big red chair and sit- 
 ting up very animated in the small red chair over your 
 muffler the toasted brown-bread muffler. 
 
 We are getting on bravely and are tickled to death 
 at the thought of your spree. 
 
 Don't forget either ' ' Darling " or 
 
 "Only me." 
 
 To HER MOTHER. 
 
 Monday Noon. 
 
 Dear old Mere, spelling it with an "are," the 
 colts still frisk, but what will they do when night falls 
 and gloom sets in? 
 
 .... 
 
 We have not changed our spots as yet. I have just 
 written a bird letter to an ornithologist and Paulina has 
 come home with two books on the Jews and three on 
 ethics. She has also beheaded ' ' The Social Register " 
 or rather, on my pathetic pleading, spared them this 
 once. They wrote and she answered. A sort of * ' First 
 I will warn you and then I will tell sire." 
 
 What she hasn't done this morning while out is 
 hardly worth the doing. 
 
 My love to Cousin Mell, Mrs. Lodge and THEOCRITE. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 ELIZABETH.
 
 Aet. 37 457 
 
 To Miss GERTRUDE BROOKS. 
 
 March 27th. 
 Dearest Gertrude, 
 
 This is your birthday, isn't it? and I don't want to 
 let the day pass without sending you a word of affec- 
 tionate greeting. May this new year touch you and 
 yours gently. This last year has brought you so much 
 anxiety and distress, and of that ' ' helpless compassion- 
 ate pain " that is the hardest of all to bear. But it has 
 brought you other things of which, perhaps, you know 
 less: the spiritual strength which has grown thro' trial, 
 and that heroic, cheerful heart which is a help to us all. 
 
 You have borne your troubles as none of us could 
 have borne them, meeting fretting anxieties with a 
 smiling face, and we look on and admire that modest 
 courage and gay unselfishness. 
 
 You must have felt your Uncle Phillips's spirit with 
 you thro' many a dark and lonely hour dark and 
 lonely but for him and Christ, whom he brought in to 
 
 all our lives so closely. 
 
 Your most affectionate 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 48 MOUNT VERNON ST., 
 
 March 29. 
 [Dictated.] 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 "And beat him when he sneezes." An excellent 
 remedy, but rather heroic if it is his last call. Do you 
 remember my saying that I spoke my mind once on 
 some occasion, to which Paulina rejoined, " Hercula- 
 neum and Pompeii tell the story." The awful part is
 
 458 1906 
 
 we can't say we miss you, or need you, or can't live 
 without you for a whole week. Only you are a perfect 
 darling, and do care for your precious self. Have you 
 come in Chesterton's Browning to the passage, ' ' When 
 a man begins to think that the grass will not grow 
 at night unless he lies awake to watch it he generally 
 ends either in an asylum or the throne of an emperor "? 
 Which things are an allegory. Just you lie still and let 
 the human greenery take care of itself. 
 
 And now for our news. 
 
 Keeping an annex to the Diocesan House "works sad 
 havoc with the features." Six clergymen in one week 
 is all very well, but when they are like the fox and the 
 
 goose and the bag of corn! Mr. must not meet 
 
 Mr. . Mr. accuses Mr. of wanting to get 
 
 rid of him, and Mr. can meet none of them. We 
 
 think of having a block system to prevent collisions, 
 only our aim is to keep things off the track. 
 
 I meant to write this myself yesterday, but my heart 
 took to skirt dancing with the daffodils and rather for- 
 got how old it was. 
 
 My love to my little brothers, the Chickadees, and 
 more to my sister, the Skylark. 
 
 ALICE WESTON SMITH, 
 
 Per P. C. S. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 Palm Sunday. 
 Darling Ethel, 
 
 You were born of a Palm Sunday, weren't you? so 
 that today is symbolically your birthday, and the
 
 Aet. 37 459 
 
 weather acts according, and is as sweet and bright and 
 sunshiny as it ought to be. 
 
 I wonder if people scolded St. Paul for saying he 
 would "gladly spend and be spent for them"? Very 
 likely. 
 
 Ah! well, my dearest, after all our proud boasts we 
 miss you and need you every hour of every day. And 
 are so sorry that our little torch-bearer has been called 
 on to endure weakness and weariness. 
 
 Your loving old sister 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 Dearest Ethel, 
 
 Here's a little poem I came across in the "Oxford 
 Book of Verse." It seemed to me very dear, as if 
 Blake might have written it. I send it to you this 
 Holy Week with a whole year more of love and devo- 
 tion. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 ALICE. 
 
 Thursday. 
 
 All in the April morning 
 April airs were abroad ; 
 The sheep with their little lambs 
 Pass'd me by on the road. 
 
 The sheep with their little lambs 
 Pass'd me by on the road. 
 All in an April evening 
 I thought on the Lamb of God.
 
 460 1906 
 
 > 
 
 The lambs were weary and crying, 
 With a weak, human cry ; 
 I thought on the Lamb of God 
 Going meekly to die. 
 
 Up in the blue, blue mountains 
 Dewy pastures are sweet ; 
 Rest for the little bodies, 
 Rest for the little feet. 
 
 Rest for the Lamb of God 
 Up on the hilltop green ; 
 Only a cross of shame 
 Two stark crosses between. 
 
 All in the April evening 
 
 April airs were abroad ; 
 
 I saw the sheep with their lambs, 
 
 And thought on the Lamb of God.
 
 Aet. 37 461 
 
 BIRD TABLE-TALK. 
 May 15. 
 
 Waked by chirping and the squawk of a Pheasant. 
 At 5 A.M. see a pair of Chickadees eating on my bird- 
 table and the suet, and courting on my oak. Also see 
 before breakfast one Barn Swallow, Robins on the path, 
 Black-throated Green in my oak, Chestnut-sided War- 
 bler on Paulina's oak and in the scrub, Black-and-white 
 Warblers, and hear Vireos, Towhee, Catbird, perhaps, 
 and Oriole or Grosbeak. Get out at breakfast time; 
 cool and lovely. See Black-throated Blue Warbler flit- 
 ting all about. On the mound he is joined by Canadian 
 Warbler, in a necklace, and then the darling Chicka- 
 dees fly to the dish in my hand, and Smutty gives his 
 little wife a meal worm on the fence rail, and then in 
 my tree, and talks again and again of taking the "gut- 
 ter bird-house." 
 
 Bright afternoon, with a very high wind. At last, at 
 supper time, through the woods towards the sunset, 
 hear the first Thrush song. Paulina says a Hermit 
 Thrush, whom I never heard before!! 
 
 Come down, come down, my bonnie birds, 
 Come sit upon my hand. 
 
 May 16. 
 
 Exquisite and much warmer. Out eight and a half 
 hours. Mr. and Mrs. Chickadee, tamer than ever, sit- 
 ting on me and my watch-stand, and when I am indoors 
 begging from my pillow in love-sick whimpers. 
 
 See my first Tree Swallows, Barn Swallows, Black- 
 throated Greens (many males and one little lady), 
 Oven-bird mincing among the dry leaves, Chestnut- 
 sides everywhere and Black-and-white in my tree;
 
 4:62 1906 
 
 Parula singing his little head off in my tree. Mamma, 
 on the way to Manchester, sees an Oriole. We hear him 
 whistling about all day and Purple Finches far and near. 
 . . . Clouded sunset, but a chorus of Wood Thrushes 
 from the hillside towards the brook bless their spotty 
 hearts! 
 
 May 28. 
 
 Pouring rain, after a night of pouring rain, and only 
 forty-six degrees at 7 A.M. A few Warblers try to start 
 little songs, but give it up. The wind does the whistling 
 and the trees are the wood instruments. Half a dozen 
 times during the day the Chickadees call us to the door, 
 fly in under the dripping awning and eat their fill of 
 meal worms, Phoebe taking five to Smutty's one, on an 
 average. The night settles down, more and more of 
 a howling storm than ever, and icy cold. Alas, my 
 Dickories! 
 
 June 3. Whitsunday. 
 
 Through crofts and pastures wet with dew, 
 
 A living flash of light he flew. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 Most exquisite of shining days (sixty degrees at 7 
 A.M.). A very full bird chorus. Thrush, Warblers, Rob- 
 ins, Orioles, Purple Finches, Vireos and the Towhee 
 again. (Let dear Virginia out into Hampton Court, 
 where she flies to the familiar perch alone.) A pair of 
 Humming-birds make love in my oak with squeaks 
 and buzzings like infuriated bees. In the middle of 
 the morning hear sharp chirps and Bluety, after a silence 
 of weeks, bursts into song. He must have seen his 
 friends, invisible to me.
 
 Aet. 37 463 
 
 I see Purple Finches flying past and Cedar Waxwings 
 and Swifts, Eobin, Wood Pewee, Black-throated Green 
 and Chestnut-sided, Chickadee and Chippies, and what 
 is, I think, the Blue-headed Vireo flying. 
 
 Hear the call of Bluebirds, the first I've heard. 
 
 In at tea time for callers and out again for an hour to 
 moon and afterglow the music of evening birds and 
 church bells. 
 
 June 8. 
 
 Clouds and rains at breakfast time after a moonlight 
 night and bright dawn. Get out at ten into the sun 
 and the wind. Dear little Mrs. Chickadee sits on the 
 rail waiting for me; Mr. Chestnut-sides sings in my 
 tree. Chippy on the path. Swifts overhead and an 
 Oven-bird in a flight-song. Phoebe makes four visits 
 before Smutty appears at 11 A.M. At 11.30 they come 
 together. (He takes one meal worm at a time, but by 
 noon she had had twenty- three meal worms, besides nuts, 
 and three times has flown off with three in her beak to 
 a distance. Has she babies?) The Euby- throated Hum- 
 ming-bird flashes along just outside the piazza rail, in- 
 specting his nasturtiums like a red signal light. 
 
 June 10. 
 
 The birds awake which slumbered all night long, 
 
 And with a gush of song, 
 
 First doubting of their strain, then full and wide, 
 
 Raise their fresh hymns through all the country side. 
 
 Already above the dewy clover 
 
 The soaring Lark begins to hover 
 
 Over his mate's low nest. 
 
 L. MORRIS.
 
 464: 1906 
 
 June 10. Trinity Sunday. 
 
 An exquisite hot day (sixty -eight at 7 A.M.) all shining 
 after the rain, with the Thrush singing matins behind 
 a choir screen of budding hemlocks. Moved in for the 
 Holy Communion Service. Out again at eleven o'clock. 
 It is eighty degrees at noon, but with a fresh wind 
 blowing from the sea, a perfect day till after five, when 
 we are driven in again by black clouds followed by a 
 mild thunder storm. Saw fewer birds than ever today. 
 Knowing I was out of meal worms yesterday, Phoebe 
 Chickadee came over once for walnuts in the morning 
 and not again till just before the storm, when Smutty 
 escorts her as far as the piazza rail and she hastily 
 snatches two meal worms and they are blown away 
 like Francesca and Paolo. 
 
 At dinner time, while it is still raining, the whole 
 west, to the highest pine tops, grows deep-rose pink 
 and fades as suddenly as it came. 
 
 June 11. 
 
 Indigo-bird flies into the crooked pine and after he 
 has gone hear him singing near and far, hidden in green 
 leaves. A blue-letter day ! ! ! 
 
 Before in the crooked pine, all about, singing his little 
 head off, a brilliant male Parula Warbler, with a bronze 
 necktie on a gold throat unheraldic! 
 
 June 12. 
 
 Only fifty degrees at 7 A.M., but still and bright and 
 blue. The first bird's song I hear when I come out to 
 breakfast is Indigo-bird, and we see him fljrfhg from a 
 pine to an oak; then more song. Then I hear a Wood-
 
 Aet. 37 465 
 
 pecker squawk, not heard for days (was it Downy or 
 Flicker?) and, behind all and before all, the beautiful 
 Wood Thrush down the hillside. The Pine Warbler 
 sits in the crooked pine and my tree and trills sweetly all 
 about. See, of course, the Chickadee pair; Phoebe toys 
 languidly with the meal worms and Smutty talks again 
 of taking the little bird-house and then takes to whis- 
 tling his love song at length on the mound. What has 
 happened, that time seems to hang so heavy on their 
 claws? A high wind springs up at eleven, which blows 
 me in directly after lunch. Later see an Oven-bird in 
 a flight-song and Barn Swallows against the afterglow. 
 The Thrush sings vespers behind the hemlock hedge. 
 
 June 20. 
 
 If all the world were June, 
 
 With tangled roses and the bumble bee 
 In honeysuckle murmuring happily, 
 In lilies deep asleep at noon, 
 While sweet birds fill the sky, 
 How could I die ? 
 
 June 25. 
 
 In the early chorus hear the whistling of my lost 
 Chickadees, as well as the near-by singing of Intfigo and 
 Song-sparrow. Before and above everything the chant- 
 ing of the Wood Thrush. (Fifty-eight degrees at seven, 
 with the gray morning clearing to tender blue with soft 
 clouds, an English sky.) When I come out to break- 
 fast a family of Baby Crows are being fed on the lower 
 oaks whimpering for more. 
 
 The male Scarlet Tanager sits in Paulina's oak and 
 then flames by. See Robins and Cedar Waxwings fly- 
 ing. Blue-headed Vireo singing his head off, and the
 
 466 1906 
 
 little Chestnut-sides singing off his in a lower sphere. 
 See the Oven-bird in a flight-song at high noon, and lots 
 of Swifts and a Gull or so. 
 
 Hear the drumming of Downy at last! the squawk of 
 the Flicker, choke of Pheasant, complaining of Pewee, 
 whistle of Oriole, warble of Purple Finch, and songs (?) 
 of Black-and-white Warbler and Red-eyed Vireo. See 
 ten kinds of birds today and hear twelve other kinds 
 not counting the Crow family, who are almost as omni- 
 present as the baby Red Squirrels (one feeds from a dish 
 in my hand on a table close to my sofa), and the pair 
 of grays, who are better tempered and always together, 
 poor worn old dears. 
 
 June 27. 
 
 Waked at 5.30 by a loud Chickadee call, and at six, 
 after much shilly-shallying, distant whistling and talk, 
 Smutty flies to my hand and takes off thirty-three meal 
 worms to the Chickadee babies in the first hour. They 
 are in the oak scrub, the crooked pine, hemlock hedge, 
 and, finally, my tree (such pretty, white little fellows, 
 but with long tails). But where is Phoebe? Resting 
 from her labors? 
 
 The Wood Thrush sings through sunset, but it is 
 Robins who sing to the crescent moon. 
 
 June 28. 
 
 Exquisite summer morning, with all the birds singing 
 from dawn on (like light-hearted lovers rather than set. 
 tied family men). Among them, very neax$the house, I 
 hear the Scarlet Tanager and Baltimore Oriole. Sixty- 
 eight degrees at 7 A.M., and when I come out to break-
 
 Aet. 37 67 
 
 fast in the hot stillness a silence has fallen on all the 
 singers. Then into the topmost spray of the gate-post- 
 pine fly two gorgeous Baltimore Orioles and flame there 
 against the sky while we gather to watch them. (What 
 are two males doing together so peaceably?) 
 
 July 4. 
 
 Sudden burst of wind and rain like a Sou'-Wester after 
 a wet night. Sixty-nine degrees at 7 A.M. Chippies 
 chittering like tree toads over their wet breakfasts on 
 the path, and the Chickadees rushing after their over- 
 worked parent among the wet leaves and piazza rail. 
 Above stairs Virginia singing about George Washington 
 and Oven-birds patriotically making themselves into 
 rockets from before breakfast till after sunset exqui- 
 site! A clouded, muggy day with a high, hot wind and 
 constant little showers. Clears off beautifully at five, 
 when I get out to Thrush music and stay till moonlight, 
 starlight and fireworks. 
 
 Birds which be Angels of God. 
 
 SIR JOHN MANDEVILLE. 
 
 St. Francis's love for the little larks whose brown 
 habits and heavenward disposition reminded him of the 
 earth-colored gowns and heavenly dispositions of his 
 own brothers. 
 
 July 12. 
 
 At supper time I see my first well-seen Wood Thrush 
 sitting for a long while on a bare branch of the dead 
 baby pine, singing with a rival on the hillside below. 
 We could see his mouth opening, and his beautiful au-
 
 468 1906 
 
 burn head and spotted waistcoat over his round breast. 
 His singing is still at the height of its solemn splendor. 
 
 And like the mavis on the bush 
 He gart the valleys ring. 
 
 SCOTCH BALLAD. 
 
 July 18. 
 
 A pink sunrise in the wet, gray sky, and the Thrush 
 singing matins in his favorite ' ' bare ruined choir " (the 
 baby pine), where I watch him long. See Mr. Black- 
 throated Green singing and his little wife silently at 
 work. Goldfinches flying by (and one who lands in my 
 tree with a shrill " Sweety- wee "), Chickadees (Smutty 
 wet from a bath), Chippies, Blue Jay and Swifts. Last 
 of all I see an Owlet, who flies with another quarrelling 
 into my tree and then sits near the trunk glaring over 
 his shoulder at me with green glass eyes. Big, with- 
 out ear- tufts. (Barred Owl.) For the first time no flight- 
 song today, but three Thrushes sing together in the 
 afterglow. 
 
 Aug. 14. 
 
 Bright and cool. Step out for a few minutes at seven 
 o'clock and see first the Scarlet Tanager blazing by me, 
 then Chippies and Chickadees, Mrs. Redstart, and Black- 
 and-white Warblers, Goldfinch flying over, and Cedar 
 "Wax wings flying and sitting on trees very "crestfallen" 
 (were they babies?) and Mrs. Humming-bird. A lovely 
 afternoon and sunset. Hear a "Qua, qua," and see 
 about the distant pines the first young Red-breasted 
 Nuthatch. Then he flies into the crooked pine and 
 sticks his long nose into everything, a perfect little
 
 Aet. 37 469 
 
 beauty in his postman's blue coat, beaver hat, and 
 melon-pink waistcoat. Later the crooked pine is a 
 flurry of little wings. All the Chickadees again, and 
 numbers of Black-and-white Warblers again, and with 
 them Red-eyed Vireos and young Black-throated Greens. 
 
 Aug. 29. 
 
 Glorious sunrise and shining blue day. Get out on 
 my sofa from 5.30 to 7 A.M. Two Red-breasted Nut- 
 hatches fly up into the gilded top of the crooked pine 
 and talk over their work. A big Robin sits in the 
 crooked pine, wearing a spotted bib instead of the toga 
 virilis. A Goldfinch flies into the crooked pine, and 
 the Pewee, and we hear the cry of " Wee-pees " and what 
 is, I think, the Baby Thrush's call, and Pheasant, Blue 
 Jays, Flicker and Screech Owl sixteen kinds of seen 
 and five other kinds heard. A deep primrose sunset 
 and a moonlight night. 
 
 Aug. 30. 
 
 By noon the fog has blown back to sea and the west 
 is deep blue. Stay out till after supper. At one o'clock 
 a Baby Tanager comes into my tree and hops up the 
 tuft, where she sits staring at us with innocent eyes in 
 her big, woolly head, which is almost as yellow as a 
 chicken's. Then a second Tanager joins her, who, we 
 think from her shapeliness, is the mother, and they hop 
 about my tree together. See Tree Swallows, Swifts, 
 and a Night-hawk, and hear, besides, Blue Jays, Gold- 
 finches, Downy, the pseudo ''gathering call of the 
 Thrush clan," and at sunset time one long, faint Oven- 
 bird's flight-song.
 
 470 1906 
 
 Sept. 10. 
 
 One of the birds fled from the tree to St. Brendan 
 and with flickering of her wings made a full, merry 
 noise like a fiddle. 
 
 Sept. 15. 
 
 The Spirit of delight comes often on small wings. 
 
 STEVENSON. 
 
 Oct. 5. 
 
 Fifty-one degrees at 7 A.M. and a dripping fog. Get 
 out to breakfast to the tolling of the harbor bells, 
 scream of Jay, and the faint song of a Song-sparrow. 
 See Chickadees and Red-breasted Nuthatches, Robins 
 (one sang his spring song), lots of immature Black- 
 polls, and two Black-throated Greens (one dear little 
 fellow with very fat gold cheeks, "gilded mumps," 
 repeatedly walks along the piazza rail and twice lands 
 on the table) and a Kinglet with his crown in my tree. 
 
 Oct. 30. 
 
 Bright sunrise, then clouds over, but no wind. Move 
 out to breakfast into a gray Novemberish day. Forty 
 at 7 A.M. My last day among my Dickories. Chicka- 
 dees and Nuthatches and "Policeman" are going deep 
 into Hampton Court, and again today a Redbreast (or 
 is it many, one at a time?) eats constantly from the 
 granary doors and on the new suet. 
 
 Juncos and White-throats are rustlirf^ about in the 
 leaves below on the path and in the bushes, but I 
 never see more than three or four of each at a time. 
 Two Juncos hop about on the lower piazza floor. The
 
 Aet. 37 471 
 
 Chickadees constantly whistle "Phoebe," to keep my 
 spirits up, and one eats from the nut dish beside me as 
 an attention. A flock of biggish birds fly over. Robins, 
 perhaps. 
 
 Hear Goldfinches and Blue Jays. See Golden-crowned 
 Kinglets, Brown Creeper, and one Myrtle Warbler. 
 Where are the Thrushes who used to hop about the 
 dry leaves on the avenue last year? The barberry 
 tangle is still green, but the hillside has a stripped and 
 desolate look under the leaden sky. 
 
 (Before lunch " Fleda," in her black fur winter coat, 
 is led round to say good-bye and have her last sugar 
 from her grandmother, which she takes with her front 
 hoofs on the porch.) 
 
 The evening settles in early and dark, with a sky that 
 looks like coming snow.
 
 472 1906 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 Trinity Sunday. 
 
 We have just had the Holy Communion Service in 
 my room set in this exquisite summer day and with 
 the Wood Thrush joining in the "Holy, Holy, Holy," 
 from behind the hemlocks. 
 
 It was beautiful to have Mr. Nash, and I only wish 
 you could have been here too our other human Com- 
 forter. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 (June. ) 
 Wednesday, 10.15 A.M. 
 
 Mrs. Squirrel has just quoted Mr. Micawber and told 
 me that "in fact, they are weaned," but one of the 
 twins didn't agree and tried to relapse. It was a pretty 
 scene. She refused him milk, but combed his hair and 
 kissed him. It is hard to cuddle on a twig!! but they 
 managed somehow. 
 
 If I tell you I have an Indigo-bird on the top of a 
 little cedar and that Shamah has sung, you will think 
 there is a depth below the fish story. 
 
 When you and Sherrard got to Boston did you mount 
 the subway or descend to the elevated? His bump of 
 locality must suit him for Topsy Turveydom. Dost 
 love? 
 
 Tell Forrest I feel as if I knew him. * 
 
 Your female relative, 
 
 ALICE.
 
 Aet. 37 473 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 (Aug. 11.) 
 
 MANCHESTER, Saturday Morn. 
 Weather: A tapioca pudding just off the stove. 
 Well, my darlings, 
 
 Try to imagine the loneliness of two dusty old hens 
 on the shore, while their yellow ducklings paddle off 
 into Dublin Lake! 
 
 Mamma called on Mrs. William Brooks at tea time 
 and found her prettily dressed, receiving her friends. 
 She forget to tell her that I had a new black hair-ribbon. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Peabody called on me, and if I did 
 keep a green-eyed monster among my pets he would 
 have grown monstrous green-eyed as she talked of you, 
 Miss Linkstress. 
 
 I was trying to think this morning whether it was 
 1 1 The Return of the Druses " Susie read when Arthur 
 was defeated as mayor, and why not ' ' Two Votes in the 
 
 Campagna"? 
 
 Your same old fleering, sneering 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To Miss ETHEL L. PAINE. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August. 
 
 "In Cuba most of our Wood Warblers are known 
 simply as ' Mariposas ' butterflies ; but the Redstart's 
 bright plumage has won for him the name ' Cande- 
 lita' the little torch." 
 
 And so, my dear Candelita, let me tell you how lonely 
 it is to drink my chocolate without my Linkstress in
 
 474 1906 
 
 her blue wrapper just inside the other door or, at 
 least, the knowledge that there is a voice on the bed 
 perhaps you would call it an Ear, you pert child. 
 " Squid jurns " is here, and so is " Cleopatra," but in the 
 fur and not in the flesh. 
 
 And how are you, darling, and has a glorious October 
 just reached you? If Dublin air and memories are do- 
 ing you good I hope you will stay on and let the Baby 
 of thirty-four years come home by herself. I don't be- 
 lieve she will chew off her tag. 
 
 News? There is none, except that we are making a 
 clam-soup for Mrs. Brooks, and this pen might have 
 been in it for salt sea damp. 
 
 This afternoon I see Mrs. Peabody your friend 
 and here's a quotation from "The Cloister and the 
 Hearth" to fit the occasion: " 'Ah, this is hair,' said 
 the old lady. The poor girl who owned it was not quite 
 out of the reach of flattery; owing, doubtless, to not 
 being dead." 
 
 I love you with all my heart, and that's not flattery, 
 but just sober, everyday, working truth. 
 
 Your adopted sister, 
 
 NANNY. 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August. 
 Dearest Teeny, 
 
 It is another bright October morning and a world of 
 song. I am trying to wield two pair of opera-glasses 
 and a pen at once to say nothing of meal worms and
 
 Aet. 37 475 
 
 an inkstand, a feat worthy of you and what's-his-name 
 Mr. Allen's rival in getting out of things. 
 
 If I should tell you how many kinds of birds were 
 served with my chocolate you would allude to Ellen 
 Emmons's ten strike. So I will only say that a young 
 Ked-breasted Nuthatch appeared this morning and that 
 Sunday the Scarlet Tanager knowing it was a red-let- 
 ter day for this household appeared in full-dress uni- 
 form. 
 
 Mrs. Peabody made her last visit yesterday and Mrs. 
 Higginson was here with her, and later to show you 
 haven't a monopoly in paladins I had a glimpse of 
 Dickson, Charley and Melville, who all three came to 
 supper. 
 
 And with them came your Saturday letter. What a 
 rich field Cleopatra and her attendant Charmian have 
 found. Like Mrs. Bell, I didn't know there were so 
 many live men. 
 
 Cleopatra was a wonderful woman, and if I remem- 
 ber rightly, nothing could stale her infinite variety, but 
 even she didn't have Bible Classes and enjoy a clergy- 
 man's reduction at theological bookstores!! 
 
 My love to Joe and Corinna and Mrs. Smith. We 
 shan't write again, but keep our strength to hug you 
 
 when you get here. 
 
 Your devoted 
 
 ALICE, 
 
 To HER SISTER. 
 
 MANCHESTER, August 12th. 
 Well, little Brown Head, 
 
 Thirty-four years ago you opened your big eyes on 
 this strange world to gladden your folks all the days of
 
 476 1906 
 
 their life. And ever since you have been climbing on 
 and up, no matter how steep and rocky the path, and 
 when the Mount of Vision was hidden by the mists of 
 mortal anguish. 
 
 Your heart has often fainted, but it has not failed, and 
 to those who have been true in the darkness what will 
 the light mean? 
 
 God grant that I may be near my darling there as 
 here her sister always.
 
 Aet. 37 477 
 
 FROM HER NOTE-BOOK. 
 
 It is in our power, if not to annihilate pain at least 
 to lessen it by patience, and, even though the body 
 should be perturbed by it to maintain, nevertheless, 
 the soul and the reason by firmness. MONTAIGNE. 
 
 Circumstances spur us as much as they hinder us; it 
 is in the struggle, day by day, with them that we gain 
 muscle for the real life fight. One must look greatly 
 forward to the great. In the light of it one sees how 
 the very patience of a thwarted day may be one's work 
 to the end. JOHN H. GREEN. 
 
 Blessed are they that mourn, for their souls shall be 
 Queens of Consolation. DANTE. 
 
 But the human heart, yearning for sympathy in its 
 weakness, and stricken with terror in its defilement, 
 cries out passionately for an incarnate God. 
 
 HITCHCOCK. 
 
 She has taught the beautiful science of bearing in- 
 firmity without losing dignity. 
 
 Keep your eyes open for your mercies; that part of 
 piety is eternal, and the man who forgets to be thankful 
 has fallen asleep in life. STEVENSON. 
 
 I prayed to God that He would baptize my heart into 
 a sense of the needs and conditions of all men. 
 
 GEORGE Fox. 
 
 These things saith he that holdeth the seven stars in 
 his right hand, who walketh in the midst of the seven
 
 478 1906 
 
 golden candlesticks: I know thy works and thy labour 
 and thy patience. 
 
 October 21st. 
 
 Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God; 
 speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her 
 that her warfare is accomplished. 
 
 The last words, written so short a time before she 
 passed into the shadow, were from a passage on Isaiah 
 vi, by Professor Nash: 
 
 "Thus faith creates Israel, who fears no odds and 
 never dreams of turning to the left to build a palace of 
 Art or a Monastery, but goes straight forward and takes 
 his wounds in his breast."
 
 Aet. 37. 479 
 
 PRAYERS. 
 
 From impure thoughts, hasty words and harsh judg- 
 ments, Good Lord, deliver us. 
 
 O thou great Physician, heal me; help me to bring to 
 Thee not only this feeble body, but this perverted mind; 
 this imagination full of impurity and disease. Lay 
 Thine hand upon me and I shall be whole. So fill my 
 heart with love toward Thee that I shall give out light 
 and not darkness. 
 
 Thou knowest how weak and sinful I am how I 
 take Thy name upon my lips and deny it in my life, and 
 have put a barrier of falsehood and self-indulgence and 
 passion between my life and Thee. I am a sheep that is 
 gone astray I sink in the mire where no ground is. 
 Lord, let my crying come unto Thee. Teach me to 
 bring my life to Thee that in Thy Strength I may live 
 it as Thy faithful servant and soldier; teach me to bring 
 my grief to Thee, that it may be sanctified of all that is 
 base and selfish, and turned into an inspiration and help, 
 and that by the discipline of all the years I may be made 
 worthier to meet him in Thy presence if it be Thy will. 
 
 God, through whatever pain and darkness and disap- 
 pointment, draw me to Thee, that I may lose my life in 
 love to Thee and service for Thy children for His sake 
 who came to seek what was lost, to bind up the broken- 
 hearted and to say to the weak and erring: Thy sins be 
 forgiven thee arise and walk. 
 
 Almighty God, who has given Thine only Son to 
 take our nature upon Him and to suffer death upon the 
 Cross that He might call not the righteous but sinners 
 to repentance, have mercy upon me release me from 
 my sins the burden of them is intolerable* A broken 
 and a contrite heart, God, thou wilt not despise. I
 
 480 1906 
 
 am weak fill me with Thy strength. Uplift me, 
 strengthen me, sanctify me; give me grace that I may 
 be so brave and patient, so faithful over a few things, 
 that I may do some little work for Thee in Thy good 
 time thro' Him who liveth and was dead and is alive 
 for evermore. 
 
 God, help me to dedicate my spared life in loving 
 service to Thee. 
 
 Make me so pure and humble that I may speak Thy 
 words of comfort to those who are in sorrow. 
 
 Teach me to live that I may do some little work for 
 Thee elsewhere or here. 
 
 O God, train me and use me to relieve some wrong or 
 misery before I leave the world. 
 
 O God, Thou knowest all things, purify the thoughts 
 of my mind, pour into my cold and faithless heart such 
 love toward Thee that all life shall glow with new pur- 
 pose and new meaning.
 
 
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