Blackwell Family    Gen. Corresp.  Barlow, Maria, 1883-87
Kitty Barry BlackwellWars, Oct. 26th 1883.
Dear Kitty,
I will take up the
thread of my story - my Vineyard days -
first where I left off in my last, Tues. Sept.
12th.  After finishing your letter I went  down
to the beach for one more walk and look at
the breakers.  There was a bleak east wind
blowing, and the waves came tumbling in
wildly, tossing their manes with savage
glee.  It was too cold to sit down, but I strolled
along in lee of the cliffs, singing as I can
never do away from the shore, higher, [and] 
clearer and with less strain than when inland,
which comforts me sometimes when, as of late,
I have lung weaknesses in the winter.  While
I was gone Alice and F. called to see me but
Miss. J. did not know of my whereabouts.
Wed. it rained nearly all day.  I packed, and 
made all preparations to leave next day provided
the weather was suitable.  The Capt. had 
had a had billious attack and was not able to
carry me to Squibnocket, so Horace Poole was
engaged for that, and as there were doubts in
the minds of all about the boat coming
into Vinyard H. if the sea were very roughThe decision was to be left with Mr. P.  If
he thought the morning favorable he was 
to come for me, otherwise not.  Wed A.M. I
went over in the rain to see Mrs. Stewart,
ate some delicious water melon and had a
nice call.  Dear old lady!  I wish we could see
her often.  I truly hope we may both live
to visit her again, together.  She talked somewhat
about the Capt. - in the kindest manner
- yet entirely confirming what I had already
learned by living there.  I meant to call upon
Florence that day but it was too wet, and in
the evening she, Grace and Mr. Elliott came to
Miss J's.  What a pretty face Grace has.  I have
not seen her since '69, and I liked to watch
her as the color came and went, but I remembered
some of your trials with her and thought
of 'vegetable Beds'.  By the way, did you know
she told Miss J. she should have liked to remain in
England and fit herself to be a teacher but the
climate was bad for her throat-?
Mr. Vincent came too for a farewell call, bringing
me a huge turtle shell and some pretty
grasses.  I never knew so little what to say to
him. I cannot talk of Aunt D. and Agnes to
him, and my respect for him has grown so
small.   But he is very kind to me.  Poor man, 
he has missed living nobly as he might have lived.
Thurs. morning, rain, and no summons
to rise before the sun, so there was one more
Vinyard day.  Miss J. gave me another dose of
local historical matters, I wrote a short article,
called Autumn Berries; later in the day it cleared 
and after a parting walk to the cliffs I

5
I said "Good", to Miss Marian's reply to her.
I might tell of one or two things which
possibly would draw fire from you to me;
things utterly without significance in themselves,
yet Miss E's fertile imagination might
find room for action in contemplation
thereof, but, with the result of your doing
the same thing to spare Florence, I shall
be warned.  I would let the matter drop.
And with all my heart I thank you for 
the confidence you gave me in not demanding
an explanation of my words.
I half expected you would demand it,
and dreaded it.  Your are right K. the difference
in tastes and habits between you two
people could never be so forgotten as to
make a true home for you, and better no
marriage than one begetting unhappiness.
But every feeling you have for a home of your
own I respond to, with even more meaning
as the years add weight to Father and Mother.
I know of no earthly gift which would come
so freighted with blessings to this home as little
children, grandchildren.  A baby, to wash and dress,
and tend, would be unalloyed pleasure to
Mother and I'm sure Father would be more
glad than he would confess.  I have lately
found myself wondering if I have not failed
in a duty, if I ought not to have taken more
pains to be agreeable and thus been
the means of making a home with children
for Father and Mother.  If it had not 
been for that one summer, perhaps I
should have cared more to pleaseothers; but that summer was, and
I must abide by it. I am slowly learning
that each one has hard things of his
own to bear and he must be strong to bear
and to hide them; but, own and them, to a
few, like you and Susie, it is a relief to
tell of the burdens, sure of sympathy. And
I find too, the calling out of my sympathy
for others helps me in enduring.
The Locana della Pace sometime, Deo volente.
Until then, may He grant us daily help
for daily needs.
You ask if I could not hint to Miss J.
that you had bought the house and might
not cross again for ten years. Not that, I
couldn't, because I won't believe it. But before
your last came I had written her of
your other letter in wh. you said it might
be years before you came again, but I said
to her it did not seem as if I could wait
many years. You know of course, about the 
library Alice started, kept in Mr. Elliott's store. At
first, when I tho't A bought them all (40
vols) it seemed a very generous act. But
when it was suggested they were books which
cost her no money but came to them from the
publishers, it seemed different, but still 
I think it very thoughtful and wise in A.
to use them in that way. J told me there
were 67 vols now, the weekly tax of three
cents weekly for the use of the books being used
to purchase new ones. Now I have two ideas
as to that library; one I shall not reveal

now for it may amount to nothing,
but the other is this; to donate a book at
Xmas to add to the collection. What if you
say to doing the same? And the Star, or Genette
will announce the gift of volumes
to the library by two distinguished friends
of the Vinyard! Did you ever read "Bits of
talk about house matters," by H.H.? I was
charmed with it some years ago, and wished
every young mother could read and
ponder it. For the sake of the young mothers
of Quikey, not many it is true, but for them
and the children to who will fill their
places, I think I shall send that book.
Tell me what you think. I have hopes of
a remittance soon from the Household,
long have I waited but I think it is not
far away, a part of which will enable
me to make the gift.
What is the plan you have of which you
hinted? Yes, I have written to Miss J, shall
ditto to Mrs. S soon, and I think also to
F. altho' she said nothing about it.
You asked about Hanna M. She is working
for Benj. Mayhew, Aunt Sally's son and
reported doing very well. Just how matters
stand between her and Abbott, there seems to
be a doubt, she coquettes, but he is still devoted.
Chester P did go to Florida last winter,
They liked the country, but lacked means to
engage in business. The others returned in
three weeks, but C went to Clinton Miss. 
where his mother had a cousin, a Mr. Hillman, a teacher with whom C. spent the
winter; 'a good thing for him' said Miss J.
Sorry you had to give up Scotland, but
your loss was Miss M's's gain. What a treasure
you are Kathleen, to many people. I enjoyed
the description of the house and your doings.
Where are you going for the winter? Let
me know as soon as it is settled. If you can
without inconvenience, will you send me
a dollar's worth of those pretty cards like those
you sent me last New Years? And I'll pay
you by stamping letters to others, or as you
direct.
Autumn has been cold and dry here. Great scarcity
of water in many places. The leaves have
fallen and I dread the long winter. The work
goes on pretty well, but cleaning and sewing
I can only do by bits. From quarter before
nine till eleven or after, am engaged with
pupils, besides one music lesson weekly.
Mrs. Lagendorph returned from five months
in Cal. in Sept looking and feeling better
than when she left. She brought me several
specimens of minerals and a pretty box bought
in Chinatown. Florence is taking painting
lessons and doing extremely well. My services
as tutor to that family must be nearly over
I think, have only been called upon twice
for help this time. For more than ten years
I have given some help to the girls, and for six
years a great deal to F. Glad I could do it; 
Susie has just spent a week at her father's,
where she hasn't been for two years. Hope to see
her here next week. Old lady Eaton (Chas's mother)
died while I was away. According to yr request
your last letter is burnt. With much love
Maria

I went to F's where I found Alice and we
had a pleasant chat together, interrupted
once by a blast from the horn calling F. on
a prolonged visit to the store. Then A. left
for home, borrowing F.'s Whittier, that she might
read "My Birthday" on the next day Sept. 14th.
I stayed longer, came to the store with F, lingering,
talking, until the sun dropped and the west
was all rosy clouds. F. gave me a most cordial
invitation to visit her next summer, calling
me Maria, then half apologising said "I can't
call you Miss Barlow, the rest do not." It was
a pleasant call, and walking up the lane in
the beautiful early twilight - I could not help
the feeling that in some measure I belonged
there and it seemed half like leaving home.
Miss J. had a caller while I was away, an
old man who had walked up from Lambert's
Cove, near V. Haven, to see old friends and pay
his taxes. Mrs. Stewart was one of those friends,
an old admirer of hers was he, and he told
Miss J. of his call upon her. Miss J was as interested
in the old romance as if it had been
her own. I forgot to tell you that one of those
last evenings the Capt. was quite busy, and social
and merry withal, doing up three kinds of potatoes
to send to Father - I had asked for specimens of
one kind - labeling them, and saying if he could
only send me up a fresh codfish we might have
a chowder. I had manifested interest in his
vegetable crop, and said I had often wished I
could attend the Dukes Co. agricultural fair
annually occurring at Tisbury. Last week he
sent me a paper giving the report of the fair
which I shall forward to you. If you lookthe paper carefully over you will find at 
least names of three Vinyard ministers 
to whom you can send circulars, etc.
Friday morning at an unseemly hour, Mr. P. 
came and I was off. The stage was packed 
before we reached V.H. and the ride was wearisome--
the great drawback in going to Quitsy 
Boston at half past one, where I dashed 
about vigorously for me, buying a trunk for my 
cousin Hattie, a black fichu for myself, a pretty 
china stand for a teapot for Mother, I had already 
bought her a nice copy of the Psalms-like that 
we gave Mrs. S., leaving on the 3 P.M. train
for West B. where I stayed at Aunt Harriet's until 
the next night-reaching home Sat. eve via 
W. Warren, fourteen being packing into that stage!
     Home duties were ready to my hand and, 
busy with them the six weeks have quickly passed. 
After the first week, which it took me to rest 
from the home journey, I felt stronger and more 
vigorous. If I could not have gone away for awhile 
when I did, there would have been an utter 
break down I fear. Sometimes there are occasions 
when the ravages of old age show themselves 
so plainly in Father and Mother, in childishnesses 
and failure to comprehend things that it 
seems as if I could not have strength for all the
 demands, and I feel so alone. Sometimes I wish 
Clarinda would give up her business and come 
home but that would be very selfish to ask.
     Mother is much better than in the summer, 
and Father is quite active, wishing he had
more work.  
I could not help laughing over your last letter, but 
am not surprised at your disgust. I would suggest 
to Alice that she fill her letters with 
something else for a while, and as for Miss E. 

Under the apple tree
July 4, 1883
Dear Kitty
There are various ways of 
showing one's patriotism on this holiday. 
I should like to know how you, in Hastings 
are celebrating the day; with colors, and toasts 
drunk in the bosom of your family? 
A large delegation of Wale's citizens are holding 
a picnic in the pretty grove by the river. They 
are chiefly of the foreign population I 
think and it is to be hoped they enjoy 
the long walk in the sun, and dancing, 
while our thermometer marks 94° in the shade!
 Father and Mr. Kenny are industriously 
making hay while the sun shines and the 
wind blows, and the clatter of a mowing 
machine across the field shows that our neighbor, 
Mr. Cummings, is also paying due heed to 
the old proverb. The engineer at the laundry 
has been bubbling over with the spirit of the 
day, if one may judge by the extraordinary antics 
perpetrated by the steam there. He began 
before daybreak, startling us by most ridiculous 
sounds,and at intervals has kept it up 
ever since. Tommy rushed about wildly, and 
it did sound as if a whole legion of cats 

P.S. Do you 
read the 
remarkable 
doings of his 
excellency 
Gov. Butler? 
He has lately 
dealt a back 
blow to suffragists 
(in his treatment 
of Mrs. Clara Leonards
question
trying to put 
her away from 
the board of 
Lunacy & Charity 
because, being 
a woman, she was not legally 
a person) 
for wh. I'm
wicked enough 
to exult a 
little. They had 
no business to 
support such 
a man. 
M.were wailing and wrangling.  Presently
the performer became ambitious, ran by
skips up the scale to high C. where he poised
in mid air and trilled! ending with an awful
howl.  At noon, it was continuous and
prolonged; as if an army of fiends were
abroad. I presume the fellow is having a very
jolly Fourth-of-July, and we hope he will
be satisfied not to experiment again for another
twelve month
I have left the broiling atmosphere of my 
'studio' for the orchard, where if not in 'a
cool grot', at least under a shady pippin,
I am quite comfortable.  A brisk breeze
blows all about me, the cool shadows move 
to and from over the grass broken by bits of
sunshine falling through the leaves.  I am
seated on a big shawl on the lap of Mother
Earth, and all sorts of her children - four-legged,
six legged, green winged, black footed 
and golden bodied, come crawling around
to examine this interloper.  To improve
my mind, and for diversion, when my hand
wearies with writing, Quackenbos' History of
Anc. & Class. Literature lies by my side.  I expect
the chief improvement from the book will be from being
in good company, for the picture about
me is so fair, so pretty, I would rather
read its pages than those of the man with
the Quacking name, 'quacked with a
mighty consternation'; do you remember
that?
But, that you may have just as favorable an


opinion of my literary tastes as possible 
under the circumstances, considering how
my early historical education was neglected,
I want to say that I took up the book expecting
a hard, dry portion, but the forty
pages read have been extremely interesting.
I never before really got at the beginning
of things, so far as history sheds light upon
them, about the Aryan race; their original
home, migrations, and the relation of
Sanscrit to their language.  So dont lose all
hope about me.  I may not always be an ignoramus.
If only I could remember things,
and - a greater if - a 'congenial spirit' were
with me always to talk about such things.
Under this very tree we sat
two years ago today, you, Evelyn and I, as E.
said ' eating bread and butter and drinking
in the scenery.'  She was such a nice, bright
girl.  I miss her in many ways and places.
 How I wish you were to picnic with 
me tonight. How I would run to meet 
you if I knew the click of the garden gate
foretold your coming, shut up the books, put
away letters, and draw you down beside me
on the grass.  Whether I should talk much,
I dont know, but Oh, I should be so glad
to see you.
Buttercups and daisies, white and yellow,
dot the mowers, the garden is fresh and
green with bright bits of color in my corner,
the berries are ripening on the wall; in thelittle mower next the pasture, grass is
spread to dry, and over the mown surface

a dozen plump robins, brown sparrows
and bluebirds are looking for their supper.
And here comes our gorgeous cock and
half a dozen of his family craning their
necks to look at me, wondering perhaps
in the very small recesses of their minds,
if I have eaten all their grasshoppers.
You'll have to call this a pastoral
letter I think. Would that there were nothing
else but scenes from Nature to put into the
picture, but it is marred, to me, by those two
buildings, the laundry and the parsonage.
For you must know that the new house,
which is a double one, large and rather
showy, is already occupied by one minister,
Mr. Stevenson - Unitarian - and soon to be
by the Methodist - Mr. Mathews. Now with
two ministers, a deacon (Mr. Sagendorph) and
a deacon's son (Mr. Tucker) for near neighbors,
ought not this end of the street to
have a good name? The house has six
bay windows, three for each part, those
in front being parlor and chamber, and
one for each dining room. The windows,
blinds, and cornice are dark, almost brown-green
with narrow crimson trimmings, the
house itself a lighter shade, and the front
doors, which are ornamented, a peculiar
shade which I cannot name, perhaps a
species of terracotta. Mr. Stevenson is aOur Home Maker.OUR HOME MAKER

Where the mountains slope to the westward
And their purple chalices hold
The new made wine of the sunset-
Crimson and amber and gold-
In this old, wide-opened doorway,
With the elm boughs overhead-
The house all garnished behind her,
And the plentiful table spread-
She has stood to welcome our coming,
Watching our upward climb,
In the sweet June weather that brought us
Oh, many and many a time!
To-day, in the gentle splendor
Of the early summer noon-
Perfect in sunshine and fragrance,
Although it is hardly June-
Again is the doorway opened,
And the house is garnished and sweet,
But she silently waits for our coming,
And we enter with silent feet.

A little within she is waiting,
Not where she has met us before;
For over the pleasant threshold
She is only to cross once more,
The smile on her face is quiet,
And a lily is on her breast;
Her hands are folded together,
And the word on her lips is "rest."
And yet it looks like a welcome,
For her work is compassed and done;
All things are seemly and ready,
And her summer is just begun.
It is we who may not cross over;
Only with song and prayer,
A little way into the glory,
We may reach as we leave her there.
But we cannot think of her idle;
She must be a home-maker still;
God giveth that work to the angels,
Who fittest the task fulfill.
And somewhere, yet, in the hilltops
Of the country that hath no pain,
She will watch in her beautiful doorway
To bid us a welcome again.
Adeline T. D. Whitney.middle-aged, spectacled man, with a weather
beaten, kindly face which preposseses me;
Mrs. S I have not seen, but a long row of plants
bordering the walk, and the glimpse of a fernery
in the front door one day incline me to regard
our neighbors favorably.
The laundry is certainly a very great convenience,
and so we are reconciled. A new oil stove,
lately added to our kitchen furniture makes
ironing much easier, and I get less heated. I
take it into the dining room and have it at
my elbow, thus saving hundreds of steps. We also
like it very much for baking, as it does its
work quickly and does not heat the kitchen
half as much as the great stove.
Before this time you have received my letter
and card announcing the safe arrival of all
the 'good things' you sent. Have yet read but
a part of the story, waiting and hoping for Lucie
to come that we might read it together. She
now sends word 'she hardly dares think it,
but if her work gets on well, she hopes to
come the last of this week'. It was never so
long before without a visit, and I,driving up
to stay a little while with her week before last, adjured
her to tell me, on her honor, if anything
but work had kept her away, had anything
offended her? She solemnly - and laughingly, affirmed
that work was the only and sole reason,
and when she read me the list of garments - 
made, seven cuts of cotton made into sheets and
pillowcases for one item, I said no more. Of
course she is glad of the work, but she has
had a hard time this spring and if she doesn't
take rest soon, she will have to.  Silas is nowworking regularly, but with the injured
hand covered with a leather mitten, as it
is yet tender. His employer has given him
five months rent, which will lift one burden.
I have a strong hope, tho' as yet a dim
vision of the wherefore, of some days in Marblehead
for us two next month. I do want to
go to M. V. also. I want to see Mrs. Stewart
again, and she is growing old. I want to see
the sun set over those lovely ponds and the
ocean flooded with moonlight. Too bad that
Quitsy is being modernised by summer boarders,
progression indeed will not hurt them, but
beyond money I fear no great good will result to
the people there. Florence, in her letter, gave a
furry picture of Capt. A. visiting with the 'Aunt
Susan', hitching his chair up toward her, while
she (F) tried to be very innocent and unmindful
of them.
On Monday came your letter and Alice's. What
a pleasant episode the meeting of Capt. L.
must have been to A., but I never heard of
a Capt. Lambert at the V. Where does he
live? Is he a twig of the Mayhew tree? I
like the endorsement he gives Capt. A - for I
shall still give him that title. How it would 
sound to say 'second mate Smith.' Now, if you
had only known about that and had addressed
him as 'mate S.' who knows but that might
have given him courage to ask you to take
him as a literal mate.  O, the might-have-beens!
I am sorry for any lonely, disappointed
being, man or woman, and I hope in some way
such trials will be a blessing to them. I hope


domestic happiness is laid up for Capt. Asa
and that he will come into possession soon. 
If he asks you to help create it, I withdraw
all my objections.
I am glad your belief in the purity of man,
of the majority of men, is strong yet. I, too,
do believe the same thing and it helps establish
one's faith more firmly to have a like
faith [shared] holden by others. A young man
with good features, money, easy manners, visits
Mary Lagendorph sometimes. I was favorably
impressed at first, but time has brought to
light, or at least rumour circulates, damaging
facts. I do not think they can be false,
and I look upon that man with loathing!
I ache sometimes to talk with M. but it
would only offend. It seems however as if I
had written you of this before, so I wont enlarge.
He is a flirt, which of itself is no recommendation.
Last summer he suddenly transferred
his attentions from Mary to Ella Eaton, a
thoroughly nice, bright, worthy girl, professor at
Smith college, a niece of Chas. Eaton. While girls
of true worth will accept the attentions of scamps
with fair faces and purses full, just so long
some men will be rascals. Much depends upon
the girls. And yet, if one had, seventeen years ago,
told me that one for whom I cared was not upright, 
my answer would have been "I know better."
What is wrong is, not the trust of the girls, but
the false education, often, so often taught by parents
example if not by words, that money, style and show
are to be secured at all events, good character being
an entirely secondary consideration.The pretty little Miss. Jackson, mentioned by A.
has long been known to me by name, by sight, but
never by personal acquaintance. She has always
been an intimate friend of my cousin Hattie
Crowell, and like her, lives in West Brookfield.
She is a gay little body, a public reader of some
ability, very warm-hearted, sympathetic, and as H. 
says 'Tho some might at times think her reckless,
she has sound, firm principles, and a lot of good
sense.' Hattie told me this a month ago when
I visited her. She spoke of Miss. J. telling her of the
dreadful revelations of wickedness during her trip.
I am amazed at the visits of women with
men to those haunts; more than all else, that
young girls were taken. I denounce thoroughly
that part of the Raymond program. Those ladies
would never dream of going to such haunts in
Boston or New York merely from curiosity. Why, in
San Francisco?
I wish you might have gone to Scotland. I hope
Miss. Marian's eyes are not seriously affected. Will
she and Miss. Anna live together? About going to
Italy - I groaned as I read the plan. Am glad and
sorry. You will enjoy it, and for that I'm glad, but
it is farther away from home and I want you.
By the way, do you ever cough now? You never
complain of anything about yourself and sometimes
I forget. Now tell me if your eyes ever pain you,
rheumatism stabs your shoulder, boils erupt, or
if a single added hair has turned white?
Shall you try Bordighera again?
I am glad you are learning dressmaking scientifically.
I detest it. If ever we cooperate you shall
do all of that and I will look after the accounts,
for you never did like arithmetic.
I finish this in the evening, with rain falling
on the roof, the after part of a fierce thunder
shower which has not yet subsided, but has cooled
the air. Always affy, Maria.Ware Apr. 3 1885
My dear Kitty:
 I am very sorry to
hear about your accident and disabled
hands.  I had wondered & wondered why
no message came from you for so long
a time, but with your good right hand
an invalid of course you could not
write.  By this time the convalescing
period has passed, I trust, & I shall
look for another letter soon.  Am glad
my bit of needlework went safely.  I have
made a number of those, mostly
larger ones, for gifts this winter, & quite
enjoyed the work.  Perhaps I will send
you a prettier one sometime.
I wonder if you remember this day
thirty years agone, the day of victory.
Does it seem possible that all that
time has flown away from us, young
girls then, middle-aged, gray haired,
spectacled women now, or dont you
have to wear glasses at all?  I do no kind
of sewing, & almost no writing unless to

[*Your question
about the individuality
of
Howard B. & Harold
W. if Mr. B.
had married
Mrs. W. is quite
like Dr. Holmes'
query in "Dorothy
L."
 I have just relearned
"Sir Launfal", I believe 
my favorite
poem & I repeat 
it aloud when
about my work.
 So you see
I do & think of a 
variety of things
& try not to be wrapped
in myself
wholly, but I miss
the departed ones,
even the care.*]sign my name, without my glasses.
It is thirty years today too since
we left the old home for this!  Then & now!
Life's morning, home, parents, hopes,
ambitions; the home & I are left; life's 
noon; aspirations rather than ambitions
now - & thank God!  hope is left,
a different hope & better now than then
I trust.  I have just read the notice
of the death of the last old neighbor
of those far away days, a Mr. Bardwell
of Worcester, with whose children I used
to correspond, the father writing the
letters & drawing such clever pen & ink
illustrations for them.  Three years ago
next summer he called here.  I had not
seen him since 1862.  He was so surprised
and seemed so pleased that I recognised
and called him by name.
I am not sure just when I last wrote
perhaps before my Springfield visit in
February where I spent three days mostly
with a cousin of Mother's, meeting a pretty
young, distant cousin of another family
whom I had never seen before.  I also
called upon another distant cousin
whom I had not met since we were girls
of thirteen.  We had to be introduced.
My friend Mary Holt was here
nearly six weeks, a visit both enjoyed.
We sewed, read, I read aloud Kathrina,
called, & took care of the home & ourselves.
One afternoon when Mrs. Bottum

Nautilus."  Its the real country there,
with a pretty river & winding lanes & clear
sparkling brooks running from the rocky
hills.  We put on rubber boots & went
searching for pussy willows I was almost 
a girl again.
My old friend Sarah Davis Bottum, who
has been pastor's assistant here for two
years retires, leaves town soon, to my 
great regret.  I shall miss her so much.
We've known each other since '63 &
seen each other's sad & pleasant weather.
I was inspired to write her some
farewell lines - a remarkable production,
as you may imagine.
Grass grows green very slowly & only in sheltered
places, buds swell & some garden
bulbs are showing green stalks, but all so
slowly, & this morning the ground was
again covered with snow.  Colds, influenza
and la grippe prevail.  I've had
but one cold of any consequence for
six months and have been out of doors
every day but one all winter.  Its a year
ago this week since I had the grip.  May it
never visit me again.
Clarinda is again with Mrs. Lawrence.
She had strong inclinations to buy a house
with poultry yards in West Brookfield
but gave it up, wisely, I think, for while
she would be happier in a home of her
own, I do not think she would be contented
to settle down in that town.Do you mean that the
mercury was at 50 (degrees) below and in
Northhampton, Fahrenheit?  That is
a depth to which it never descends in
the U. S. I think, at least where people
live, 36 (degrees) to 40 (degrees) being terrible extremes
of cold here.  
What a wealth
of books you have!  And I suppose you
know some of all of them & hunger for
more.  I've just read a pretty & pathetic
little book written by a daughter of Julia
Ward Howe "Capt. January", a story of the 
west of Maine.  Do you suppose Mr. G. W. B.
would be bothered by a little gift to you
if he crosses, & what would please you.
 You have so many books, I should not
know what to choose.  Would any of my
handiwork please you & what?  Please tell
me frankly.  I guess I've never written
you the sad fate of the lovely shawl you
sent by Alice.  It almost broke my heart.  You
know I've worn mourning for over a year.
The shawl was folded & left in the box in
which it came.  In the fall it was taken 
out for a visitor to wear one evening; a fly or
two flew as the box was opened, & there were
great eaten places in that lovely thing.  There
were no moth cases found, it must have
been done by flies that somehow got into
the box.  If tears could have restored 
it would have been made whole speedily. It
cannot be mended to look well but can be
worn a little by much folding.  I am so
grieved about it.
My windows
are full of blossoming plants & my fernery
is sweet with blossoms, a bit of the
old New Braintree woods.
With love
Maria [*Barlow*]

Sarah Davis, formerly, was here, we had a
Longfellow celebration; it was the 25th
of Feb. instead of his birthday 27th. being
more convenient for us.  I invited my
good neighbor Mrs. Bassett to participate
& to stay to tea.  Each read two selections,
there were two recitations and a little
sketch of his life.  All very pleasant & helpful.
I should like to
join in the tribute paid today to Rev.
S. F. Smith of Newton Centre, the author
of America.  Just what the celebration
is to be I dont know, but I think it is 
not confined to Boston.  I'll sing the
hymn from the heart, all by myself, &
thus be benefitted, tho' he will never
know it.  He is one of the few survivors
of Harvard's famous class of '29.  Holmes'
class, & is 86 now, reads fifteen languages
& has just begun the study of Russian.
   I supposed that Howard
Blackwell was already a Harvard
student.  Clarinda wrote me last summer
about Mr. B. coming on to place
his son in Harvard & I never knew
but that he was there in college.  It
will be very pleasant for you & Dr. to
see both father & son.  I hope he & Paul
will be congenial, & the summer be
a very happy one for you all.  Wont
you let them bring you back with them?I do not know what the
summer will bring to me.  I plan
for nothing other than to make the
house pleasant for friends as well as myself,
raise flowers, chickens, have the yards
& gardens kept neat, be out of doors
much, read, & do all the good I can.
If all is well I want to go to Saratoga
for a week in June, when the Home Missionary
Soc. convenes there.  Mary Holt
says she will come & keep house for me,
& if Miss [Brown?] still lodges here all
will be well & I may stay away a little
longer.  There is an invitation to visit
in Northfield.  
I can hardly realize 
that it will soon be a year since
I set out with a sad heart for Saratoga.
How beautiful the city was; how pleasant
my stay; how kind the friends.  The
kind old Dr. Hamilton is at rest now
& tho' I want to go again I know it will
bring sadness to see the familiar place
without the people.
The first week in March I spent a few
days in W. Willington Ct. with Carrie
Gibbs, her mother & Ida [Sturtevant?], a
friend whom  you never saw, but a rare
young woman in many ways.  Mrs. G
is very feeble now, I can hardly believe
she will see the summer days, & Carrie's
health is sadly broken.  I had such a delightful
visit them.  We played crambo,
& other games, had an evening with
Holmes, when I recited "The ChamberedWare, June 8th 1885.
Kathleen mavourneen,
  Everything came
safely. On Friday, May 18th, came Progress and
Poverty, and the same mail brought me a 
pretty birthday card from Carrie Blodgett
and a most excellent cabinet photograph
of herself. So I thought, two people, my earliest
friends remembered the day, and it quite
cheered my spirits drooping at the prospect
of thirty-five years completed. On May 24th
came your letter, ah, wasn't it a feast!
carried about in my pocket ever since,
and next day come the dainty book. I
should know you chose that cover, that
rich, soft shade of blue. It was unharmed,
and unmarked save by where the string
had pressed too hard on one edge. Good
Words have not yet come but maybe you
have not yet sent the magazine. I thank

[*vain for Grace,
I did not think
it would be, but
it must have 
been weary work
for you, with no
response on her
part.
  Rec'd yesterday a
$2.50 check for a Wellspring
article, wh.
will go, I think,
for Life of Longfellow, 
by his brother
Rev. Samuel L.
soon to be published
by the
Osgoode.
Just to think,
of an article of
mine in May
Household being*][*read in 
Boston!
and evoking
a
letter
from the Soule
Phot. Co.
to Leslie
Rayner Esq.
  It was
not important,
but quite
excited 
me for
a time.
Miss. H.
likes her
map. I've*]

you, my dear girl, many times, for everything,
the good wishes are valued by no means
least of all. The book I have often seen mentioned,
but never really knew much about it, or
only it was called the Christian Year before. As
I opened it my eyes first fell on a hymn
familiar (a part of it) in my school days,
and having far more depth of meaning to
me in later years, "O timely happy, timely wise" etc.
 I know it will be a pleasant lifelong
companion to me, a constant reminder of
you, my friend of many years. There comes
such a hungering over me to see you. Today,
while making the bed in the front chamber,
I let my fancy have the reins for a minute
and imagined I was putting the room to
rights for your coming. If it only could be!
   I shall greatly enjoy Miss. Edward's story, because
of your home, and your friend. I hope
it may be so Susie and I can read it aloud
to each other, I am sure she will enjoy it.
   The Progress and Poverty I've only looked at

nearly every night this week, and as the
robbers do not seem to discriminate between
the houses of rich and poor, our time may come.
I hope not. You would laugh to see some of 
my precautions, or to hear my plans of assault.
Mary Lagendorph laughed until she could scarcely
speak when i told her I put my penknife
(open) under my pillow as a weapon! Ware
boasts a police force of two! besides one whose
sole business is to guard the bank. These two
officers patrol Main St. protecting the stores.
 'Tis a ridiculously small force for a place
of this size, with a various population,
constantly receiving additions of not always
desirable elements.
June 9th. Your card of 22nd arrived today -- a delay
somewhere. Good Words not yet here, may come
tonight. Mr. Lagendorph has taken to bringing up
our mail every noon -- when there is any -- and he
always has some joke about the 'love letters'. I always
tell him "O, yes, I'm sure it is such an
one". I ought to be a brave, cheerful, patient
woman lately if letters can help thereto, for
in two weeks have come four delightful ones,
long and good. From Lizzie Robinson, an old
pupil, now at Northfield Sem. a girl of raresweet promise of useful womanhood whose
letters show so great improvement in the two
years she has been at N.; the rest was from
Hazel Wylde, who has been very very ill this spring
is still weak; then came yours and I counted
the pages exultantly, 20! reminding me of a
certain Vinyard letter you wrote me of 24 pages
way back in '66; and today, a very nice letter
from Florence M., which means, you see, that
I did write to her at last. To think of dear old
Quitsy being over run with summer boarders,
bringing 'ideas', as F. says, and not likely to
improve the V. morale. I'm glad you and I 
have memories of the place in its unpolluted
days, I fear never again could it be just the
same to us. But I'm glad F. is so happy and has
so thoroughly good a husband. The baby she
pronounces 'an ugly little mite', and what a
remarkable name, Arabella Ernestine M.
F. gives me a cordial invitation to visit her
says that 'have plenty of milk and a spare
bed', she evidently knows how much of my

existence eating and sleeping form. If only you
and I could go there this summer.
Yes, you are right about Susie. She would add
incalculably to my enjoyment there, and I wish
it might be. I dont suppose you ever 'counted 
chickens before they were hatched', did you? Possibly,
still lacking a few months of 'years of discretion', 
you may have, hence can sympathize.
From day, and music pupils, also selling
mild (I have half the money) I expected to have
from $17 to $18 income in May. Here is
the result of the 'hatching'. Pupils sick, music 
pupils dropped off, (they work in a shop and
found music practice too hard), milk not
wanted for some time, and I actually had
about five dollars only! Which makes a 
difference in my seaside calculations,
naturally. But I don't despair. Probably, however,
if I take S. it will be to Marblehead where
she can go, [return] and stay a week and return
for $10 or $11, which would only suffice
for bare travelling fees to the V.  I tell you all[*not seen
it yet.
 A pleasant
trip
to Scotland,
(shall you 
go to
Abbottsford?)
love to
you and 
Dr.
Marie.
P.S. Mary
Rich___Next,
after three
boys, has 
now a 
little daughter.*]

about it as if you were a part of me. One
thing, I shall not indulge in a white muslin.
   Have read three of Alice's [?eal.] letters to Journal
and greatly enjoyed them. She must be at
home now. Mrs. Lagendorph may stay for some
months with her sister in San F.
I'll tremblingly obey my medical advisers,
if I can, but any poor Mother can bear less
and less care and unless the milk is entirely off
her hands there'll be no month of vacation for 
me. Next week (D.V.) I spend two days at Dr. B.'s.
Summer came late, but is glorious
now. The birds never sang so joyously, all day,
the foliage was never richer, more beautiful.
Silas' hand is better and I expect he
began work this week, so I hope to see Susie here
soon. Her address is Mrs. Susie G. Barlow,
Gilbertville, Mass. and its very kind and tho'tful
in you to think of sending papers, etc.  The 
remembrances will not be the least pleasing 
part of it. She is a dear, brave, patient girl.
 I haste to finish this that you may
not be left in doubt about the books, so it
must go without the names of the M. V.
ministers. But I will not forget.
  I am glad your seed sowing was not in
(see p. 1.)

yet, (she shall have that too) because I am making
one desperate effort to finish out my Chautauqua 
course and do not wish to attempt
anything deep until that is over. You see a
branch of the C.L.S.C. is to graduate at the
Framingham Assembly this year (Aug. 23-31)
and Lucie and I hope to take our diplomas
together, if we can finish -- if we can go. I am 
now reading "How to get strong & how to stay so", by 
Wm. Blackie, a book which might have been condensed 
by one half, after which I have three
books on Eng. Lit., (not large) Quackenbos' manual
of Anc. & Class. Lit, and a little ten cent Chautauqua text
book of Gen. History, only three to complete the
four years course -- but I've been nearly five
years about it. I doubt if I attempt anything of
the kind again. The plan was too large for busy
people, and weak people. I do not regret it, and
as long as I live I mean to study, but I would 
rather try to do better work, less hasty and superficial,
even tho' I get through but two
books in a year. But I do hope Susie and Imay take our parchments from the hand of Dr. 
Vincent, the great good man, one of our heroes. 
The Chantauqua course is somewhat like the 
Raymond excursion, too much, in little time. 
Your trip to Scotland seems very delightful 
to me, wouldn't I like to share it. Will you keep 
a journal for your friends, or is it asking too 
much with your letters and duties as home 
secretary? I, for one, should be delighted to read 
it. I hope Miss. Marian's health will not prevent 
your going, I sincerely hope she is to be 
spared serious trouble from her eyes.
There are so many things I want to write you 
about, to talk over with you. I've been lazy 
this week or this letter would have been on 
its way now. No, it has not been laziness, but 
rather weariness, and weakness and worry. For 
a whole week I've not had one good night's 
rest - cause - robbers! A week ago, seven 
houses were broken into, money and watches 
taken, but no violence done. I cannot sleep, 
one night I sat up until nearly one o'clock, 
and I wake regularly and lie awake for 
two or more hours, and the strain tells severely. 
Some attempts have been made[*There is much
religious interest
here, sixteen are to
unite soon with 
our church, among
them Mrs. Farrar, your
companion in the W.
Warren stage. Dr. Perkins
will leave in a 
few weeks, and then,
Ah me!
The snow is more 
than a foot thick, all
but a few inches packed
and crusted. A cold
winter.
Miss. Cummings
has just had another
shock -- a little over
a year since the
first. She had seemed
better of late,
but is helpless again.
I have lately 
had a very pleasant 
letter from the lady
editor of the Household,
saying she would
be glad of more frequent
contributions.
Are you writing
for the Journal?
Must close in 
hast. Always yours,
Maria.*]

Ware, Feb. 18th 1885.
My dear Kitty,
You will think this a remarkably
colored sheet to choose for a letter, yet it
does not mean that I am jealous or desire to
produce that evil passion in you; or it it only
green-eyed that jealousy is represented to be?
This is a half of a quarto sheet which came in
some damaged paper I bought by the pound and
as it seemed fair and smooth I use it tonight.
I enclose the cutting about Miss. Ellice
Hopkins at Edinburgh U., (perhaps I did write
you it was at Oxford but I was mistaken) and
the poems mentioned in my last. I expect
you will think my request a singular one,
perhaps rather mysterious too, but the lines
had a certain interest to me, for what reason
it is not needful now to say and you would
never guess, and it would gratify my curiosity,
for want of a better term, to know, first, if they
could truthfully be called poetry, second if they
contain a promise of better work.
I found your last awaiting me on my return
from a visit to Susie with whom I spent a night
and a day.
I have lately, before your letter, been remembering
your chest trouble and wondering if you cough
any. Tell me about it, and do take the best, thevery best care of yourself my dear girl.
About your tooth, if no English dentist dares
refill there will be no other way except to come
to the U.S. and then wouldn't there be rejoicing
in one bussum! Isn't it 'borne in' upon you 
that it is you duty to cross next May? And spend
the summer here and at M.V., I following on
if Clara will stay at home meanwhile.  O, that
it might be!!
It doesn't seem as if Grace and the younger
ones could be grown up enough to have beaux, 
but I forget how the years are added to us as well. 
I cant approve of Mrs. G.W.B.'s housekeeping
regime in respect to meals. Children do need
more than two meals per diem, and if they
wake up cross after their long fast through the
afternoon and night who could blame them.
I should say a drink of milk would be better
for the lunch than apples or candy. But all
right if they like it and it proves best.
Your account of Mrs. P. Heaton's trouble calls
to mind a similar experience by Mrs. Hitchcock,
mother of my pupils, after the birth of
John in '75. She was for sometimes under
the care of Dr. Geo. M. Beard of N.Y. (he died you
remember a year or two ago) endured an operation.
He then told her she could never give
birth to another baby unless he attended her --
not a very comforting thing to remember when,
last summer, another little was expected, and Dr.
B. in his grave. But Mrs. H.  had great confidence
 in our Dr. Roberts and passed safely thro'
the trying time. I am told it is Dr. R.'s practise
to find out as soon as possible if damage is done
and attend to it. I should suppose every Dr.
would, but it seems they do not. Mrs. H. has
such a nice, plump little girl, who sat with
me one day when I called, pulled my bonnet

strings with manifest delight, shook my
mittens, and clawed my face.
Mr. Vincent sent me his baby's photograph in
a letter Mrs. Stewart wrote me lately. She (the
baby) was thirteen months old when it was taken
but looks like a child of two years. Such legs! I can 
scarcely see a trace of Jamie's looks thought I've
studied it attentively. Mrs. S. says she is a good
little girl. I wish they had kept to their first name,
Agnes, for her. Mrs. S. seems well, said she had
knit 35 pairs of mittens this winter, but stays at
home mostly. She spoke of the death of her cousin
Mr. H. Vincent; said she never saw him 'the least
mite excited about anything'.  Should you like to
live with such a person?
I write this on the eve of a short trip to Boston
which I'll afterward (D.V.) duly report. I couldn't
go on Boston & Albany day, wasn't able to go anywhere
last week, and as my boys are resting for
a few days I go now altho' it would be pleasant
to go later. But carpets are low now and
one errand is to buy a new one for the parlor.
There is to be a general rearrangement, the
dining room carpet to be condemned, the others
moved along. A new bookcase too I am to buy,
my own, for the parlor, the whatnot there belonging
to C. M.B. who would like it now. A
new dress for Mother, perhaps one for myself
and several minor purchases and errands
will give plenty to do. I shall stay at the Y.W.C.A.
rooms -- a blessed institution for poor and
lone women, call at the Journal office and
upon the [Burnpieces ?] .  If all goes well I stay until
Monday night, spent that in West B. at Aunt
H.'s, Tuesday at Dr. B.'s, home that night, to my
teaching again Wed.
Do you blame me for anticipating it eagerly?
Boston means to me a glimpse into abright beautiful world of books, music,
 pictures etc. Full well do I know there is another
 side to it. Sarah Harding is visiting 
her sister in Jamaica Plain and I hope to
 have her company in looking up a bookcase. 
Sometime I hope it will hold a set of Scot, 
Ruskin and Guirots' France.
It is one more of your kind things to send 
those books to Susie. I am sure she will like 
them. I haven't read them, but mean to. I like 
Howell's pretty well, far better than Henry James. 
I do not like him.
Susie gets on fairly well. Silas has work but 
small wages. Susie has the money and provides
 for the household. It is best so. She sews also 
and does whatever offers itself - the very best
 she can and is a very great comfort to me.
Horrible about the dynamiters! What 
sacrilege to the venerable Tower! What a foment
 the world is in! I hope all those who are inciting
 the Irish to rebellion will be severely punished. 
What with those turbulent people and 
the troubles in Africa England's hands are full, 
while here in America the hard times and the
 Mormon problem are proving equally perplexing.
 But the law is dealing some blows to the 
Mormons and showing its authority.
I hope Gen. Gordon has escaped. Why did not 
the Govt. send aid sooner. And I dont believe
England had any more business in Africa
at first , than I have in your trunks.
Do tell me just how a 5 o'clock tea is managed
with you , I thought from what you told me 
when here, that they were not invited parties, but 
tea was served if callers happened to drop in at 
that time. They have flourished here in a 
fashionable circle this winter. Not being fashionable
 I have not been invited, but they have been 
reported to me and it seems as if they amounted 
to very little.To a friend on her birthday.
With a gift of roses.
I see an opening door; and she, my friend,
With wistful face waits for its noiseless
turning.
What lies beyond; Is it some fair, bright
scene
With joy replete; Where roses strew the way
And thorns are not? Or shall the eye behold
But shadows deep by Sorrow's pinions cast;
Wide open swings the portal! On the
sight falls
Naught but a winding way untrod;
Whose mysteries can ne'er be known save as
The feet press, day by day, its unknown path.
Oh joy! A light from heaven shines on the way
And He whose name is Love is ever near,
Dear friend, to you upon the threshold standing,
I bear these blossoms, my greeting for the day.

A Song of the Maples.
The maples bloom in the winding lane,
Soft fall their crimson stars on the grass;
The year is young; Hope's song is sweet,
As under the scented boughs we pass.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 
The maples are robed in scarlet and gold;
There are falling leaves in the quiet lane;
I walk alone: the year grows old;
Life was so sweet! Can dying be gain?
A love, that is freed from earthly
dross,
A song, which only the glorified sing,
Lift me above the tears and loss.
I follow on to eternal spring.THE EDINBURGH STUDENTS.
The Edinburgh University now numbers
some 3,000 student and includes one of the 
largest medical schools in the world. Miss
Hopkins certainly is a brave woman, but
her success in this case seems fully to have
justified her attempt to address these young men:
Seventeen years ago an effort was
made by some of the professors to
band the students together, so as to
form a public opinion on the side of
purity, and to secure the steady men
looking after the young ones when
they first come up. But the absence
of any general movement, such as,
thank God, now fills the air, made the
attempt a failure. On Miss Ellice
Hopkin's visit to Edinburgh last year,
a number of students having attended
a mass meeting of men only, held in
the Assembly Hall, a White Cross
Society was set on foot in the University,
the medical students taking the
lead; and in a few months' time it
numbered 400 members.
The inaugural address to students
only was looked upon with some apprehension
by the University authorities,
owing to the difficult nature of
the audience. As no sufficiently eminent
man was free to undertake the
first experiment, Miss Ellice Hopkins
consented, with some reluctance, to
stand in the gap and give the address.
It was agreed to keep the proceedings
as short as possible; and the meeting
was carefully organized, sturdy members
of the White Cross Society, captains
of cricket clubs, football clubs,
etc., whose principles were well backed
by splendidly developed muscle, being
stationed about the room, at once to
interfere with any knot of rowdy students
who might be inclined to upset
the meeting.
The lady speaker was pushed at
once to the front by the chairman;
and as she advanced to the edge of
the platform, and stood fronting that
roaring sea of young faces, it was
doubtful which way the meeting
would go, and whether she could control
such explosive materials. But
she had only spoken a few minutes
when it became perfectly apparent
how the experiment would turn out. 
A few faces in the middle of the room
which meant mischief gradually subsided
into an earnest, almost pathetic
gaze; the applause was checked before
it became uproar; and by the time
she had finished an address remarkable
for its home-thrusting, hard-hitting
character, which held the audience
for forty minutes-as one of the
committee put it-"I think if she had
asked them to storm the Edinburgh
Castle they would have gone off in a
body and done it."-Church Bells.which makes itself manifest in chil-
dren's games, is to be made use of in 
developing them by means of their 
reading. They like, as Dr. Johnson
said, to have "somewhat which can
stretch and stimulate their little
minds." They care little for didac-
tics, and nothing at all for theories, 
but they readily mount on stepping
stones of stories to higher things. 
They do not grasp things in the
abstract readily, but through pictures
which the mind forms; hence, a nar-
rative, full of detail about real people
and real things, graphically pictured 
for them, is full of interest. They
like to have the horizon of their 
world broadened by a fancy-flight.
All this is wholesome and helpful if
wisely used, and such books as Alice's
Adventures in Wonderland, Ander-
sons's and Grimm's Fairy Tales, 
Hawthorne's Wonderbook,and Kings-
ly's Heroes are a real means of grace
in childhood. Edward Everett Hale
has recently said, "I consider that
from seven years of age to fifteen a 
steady course of Arabian Nights, with
that very slight dilution, is a necessary
part of every liberal education. Per-
haps this is best because it cultivates the
imagination. But I think it is rather
the simplicity, the variety, the sur-
prise, and, in general, the rush and 
'ego' of the narrative."
This suggests poetry as a means of 
enlisting the interest and cultivating
the taste of children. The qualities
that endear a poet to their elders the 
children will not care for-the senti-
ment, the felicitous metaphor, the 
condensed philosophy; hence, there 
are certain poets that neither attract 
or help children, because their range 
is too high. But the singing quality 
they can appreciate and enjoy. They 
like the swing of the rhythm, and the 
__ho of the rhyme; and the dramatic 
element in a stirring ballad or lyric is 
accentuated by these features, so that 
the interest is much enhanced. Such 
lyrics as Macaulay's Lays of Ancient 
Rome, Aytoun's Lays of the Scottish 
Cavaliers, McCabe's Ballads of Battle 
and Bravery have a perennial charm 
for children, and many by Longfellow and 
Whittier, and some by Dr. Holmes. 
(It) is the dawning of poetic instinct in 
them

Ware,  Aug. 27th 1886 
My Dear Kitty, 
I think of you in 
Scotland delighting your soul by visiting 
everything of historic interest, going over 
the scenes of Scott's stories and brimming 
over with enthusiasm. When you reach 
home and have settled again you'll tell 
me all about it. Haven't had a word 
from you since early in June. A letter 
came from Florence last month, a reply 
to one I wrote Mrs. Stewart; drawing such 
a sad picture of her life in these last
days, mind broken, and feeling that she is 
lost forever.  It does seem as if she ought, if 
ever anyone deserves anything, to have a 
peaceful happy old age. What an unselfish, 
devoted life, devoted largely to ungrateful 
people. Will Mayhew must be 
fast gone in shame to live as he has been 
doing, and what an influence for poor 
Hattie. Florence said if I would only 
come there in the winter she would giveme two rooms. I have first hungered for the island, it's glorious 
air, wide sky, green hills, the ponds, people and all - especially 
restfulness. if only I didn't lose all the benefit on the wearisome journey
home. But, when very unexpectedly, a short vacation was permitted,
it was best to go only to Marblehead, the easiest and
quickest to hear from and to reach. It came about in this way.
Clara was coming home for a week or ten days, during which I meant 
to go for two or three of them to the W. E. Assembly at Framingham. 
Perhaps I'll speak of this more later. After C. had been here a week 
the young man in charge of the greenhouse wrote her that every-
thing was doing well and she could stay longer just as well. Then 
she proposed my going to the sea. I couldn't decide in a minute 
neither I could go anywhere without engaging a place, and it 
ended by her going back to North Adams, attending to greenhouse 
work for a week, then coming home again for ten days. I went to 
M. on Tues. Aug. 4th, staying until the 14th. I came home on the 3 P.M. 
train, and C. left for her home on the 5 P.M. I felt sorry that she 
should have to take the journey here twice, but it was her own 
offer, and I really think she ought in some measure to share 
the care at home. You see Father has helped us both alike but 
she has had both her time and money, not having had for at least 
twenty years, to stay at home for a single day if she did not choose. 
Mother has not been as well this summer and I should not 
have gone at all to leave her alone. Perhaps I wrote you about 
her trouble with her eyes, double vision. It is not so bad as at 
first; fewer things are doubled now, and she is somewhat stronger. 
We were to have gone to Worcester today to consult an occulist,
Dr Dixon, who is in W. for three days and the other three in 
Boston, but have learned he is away on a vacation and will not be 
at home until Sept. 1st. Aunt Lucy seems to have had a like trouble 
with her eyes this summer. I wonder if spectacles helped her 
much. I do not care if mother does not sew, if only she can read. 
And yet she is happier to sew or mend if she feels like it. She does 
housework but thinks she leads a very lazy life. She does not care to 
ride out as I wish she would for I believe it would strengthen her. 
She goes for a call now and then and enjoys the hammock verymuch. She sings yet but not every day
and her voice does not ring full and clear
as it did a year ago. Father has just passed
his eightieth birthday, Aug. 16th.  Is pretty
well, though stiff, and takes things more
easily. He has to indeed, but for he more quickly
tires, and then there is much less to do now.
But in haying he worked all through the
long hot days without resting except for
meals. He takes a lively interest in the
goings on above us and makes frequent
visits to inspect the progress of the new houses
and the reservoir. And it is lively times for
Church St.  Work people and teams,  loads of
stone, lumber and clay, visitors and officials, 
leave little dull time. I am sorry to lose the'
pasture when I liked to go for wild flowers,
but is is pleasant to see improvements.
  For a time we were entertained twice daily
with dynamite explosions, from ten to twenty
reports following each other. That was not
pleasant. The fine new Town Hall is
completed, a handsome building, and the
town will have a heavy burden of debt to
bear or bequeath to the next generation.

Aug. 31st  Your Swanage letter came last
night. It was like a breath of the salt
sea! You dont know how much I want 
to go over to you. I said something of
the kind to Mother and she replied "Well
perhaps you will go sometime". But 

thinking of what that all meant to her,
to us all, and the only way in which
I can go, I was sorry I said anything
about it. I laughed at your bearing with
the pipe of a sailor and said to myself,
"Kitty will always bow down to the blue
jackets."  That combination of sea, country,
sandy beach and rocky coast is just what 
I like. I shall approve of your living in
Swanage. May Lamb is a puzzle to me.
What does she think about? Hasn't she
any special bent toward any work or amusement? 
What a blessing her baby must
be to her, but O, if mothers only would
strive to lead the minds of their children,
not admiringly look on while they are
praised for brightness and aptness in learning.
There's a cousin of mine, good, kind,
in most respect nice mother of two bright
children who will have wide advantages if
they care for them. The girl, at twelve, is a
bright scholar. The mother no student whatever.
The companionship would be so
much closer if the child could talk with
the mother about her studies, or the latter
talk intelligently with the child. Do impress
your friends' mind with this truth.
 I had an interview last night
with an old friend of your and mine.
It came about thus. Mr. Gibbs' family arepreparing to remove to Amherst. In looking over papers etc. a 
packages of letters written to Eva were found, among them two of
my own, dated "Orient House, Pelham," Dec. '66 & Jan. '67. They were
given to me, unread by Mrs. G. or Carrie, a delicacy I could not
[trust] expect all to practise, altho' it was but right. And this old friend
was the [M.A.Z.?] of twenty years ago. I wonder you never anathematized
one for writing in such a close hand. It almost
put my own eyes out now. The letters arrived and did not sadden
me as they would have done ten years ago, and yet life was
so full then - full of life and buoyancy, and the lost friends were
so dear!
I shall miss Mr. G's people, my visits to them and Carrie's to me. They
go to board But his last preparatory then in his college
course. They will take boarders or Carrie will work in a shop. I
cannot be quite hopeful about the result. Bert is nearly twenty
and ought to be sharing the support of the family instead of leaving
it all for Carrie. She is a brave, unselfish cheery girl.
I have just had a visitor, a young teacher at Mt. Hermon, Mr.
Moody's school for boys, Lizzie Robinson of Hardwick. She spent
three days here much enjoyed by me. She is a rarely sweet
tempered girl, very fond of and very successful with young boys.
Sometimes I think all the good I've even done in the world was
the advice and help given to Lizzie which I suppose influenced
her to attend school at Northfield from which has come large
mental and spiritual blessings to her and a wide field of usefulness.
Next week we look for my cousin Hattie Cornell to spend some
days with us, and later, Lucie I hope.
It is not easy to realize that the last day of summer is here. It has
flown as all summers do, and been for me a busy, tho' quiet
time. The fall bids fair to be no less busy, with what I must,
what I am asked, and what I want to do. Don't expect to accomplish
a half of the latter division. Today we have a glorious
shower and to nothing will it be more welcome than to the
poor fainting, dust-laden flowers and leaves, whitened with
dust as I never saw them before.
Do you know much about the N. E. Assembly at Framingham?
It is an offspring of Chautauqua and well-developed, now in
its eighth year. Four separate departments of S. S. work.are conducted, with daily classes, classes
in drawing, chorus training, and daily one
or more fine lectures on different topics.
It is held in a beautiful grove near a
lake, and many people own cottages and
stay for the summer.  The Assembly holds
fourteen days. I was there three nights - and
two days - so full of good things, but I wont
attempt a detail of them.  Recognition Day
- when the Chautauqua L. S. C. class of '86
graduated - was a high day indeed. The
1200, representatives of graduate and undergraduate 
classes - from '82 to '90 - marched
in procession to the auditorium to listen
to Phillips Brooks' address.  There were many
middle aged and elderly people in the '86
class and the grand thing about it is that
it is for everybody, and it has courses of
study to suit different ages and capacities
and special lines for post graduates, who if they
wish, can pursue these while they live. Last year
Miss. Harding and I read a course in Literature,
history & science to win a white seal for
our diplomas. I have now commenced a
Botany special course, six required books. The
class of '86 numbered 4000, living all over 
the world - some in Australia. Wont you try
it; I'll send all needful circulars, etc. if
you would like. The membership fee is
50 yearly and the books required five or six
dollars. Very likely you already have some
which w'd be accepted as substitutes. I bought
some, borrowed, and had several from our
library. If you could once be present at
such a gathering as Chaut - or Framlingham[*P.S
Have you 
any photograph
of mother.
Have just had 
some cabinets
copied from one 
taken for '82. You 
shall have one
if you wish.
This poem 
which I enclose
was read by Dr.
Perkins at the 
funeral.
We sent for Dr. P. 
(he lives in Worcester 
now) because 
he knew her. Mr. 
Perry, the new
pastor, was also
 present. m.*]

Ware, Apr. 30th 1887.

My dear Kitty,
It will be seven
weeks on Monday since your last 
came and at least a month longer
since you have heard from me. You
will wonder at this long silence inless.
indeed, you know through ALice
its cause and the deep sorrow in which 
we are living. It has been hard to 
write any letters and in these seven 
weeks have written but three, except 
necessary business ones. So many are yet 
unanswered and must remain so for 
the present. 
I wish I could sit down beside you and 
tell you all about it but it would be with 
may breaks, with loss of self controll and 
many tears. Twice before in my life have
I written to you of family bereavement;
this is sorest of all, ad nothing which 
can ever come to me will bring suchdesolation as this - the loss of my
mother!
I have noticed a decrease of strength
and a giving up of things gradually
this winter, yet no illness. She has
lain down oftener, cared less to sew
or knit, but relaxed nothing of any
amount in the daily housework.  I tried
hard to have her give up certain things
but she wasn't willing, saying 'she could
do housework better than anything else 
now', and so kept on.  About the first
of Feb. she spoke of frequent nausea
after meals.  After a day or two she took
some remedy kept in the house but was
not helped. On the 7th she consented
that I should go to the Dr. for medicine;
I had wanted to before.  This did not relieve
her, yet she was about the house
doing some work every day.  Friday
morning, Feb. 11, before I came down
stairs I heard her vomiting. She had
been up, got breakfast but had not
eaten when the attack came.  The Dr.
was called; she told him she did not
think she needed him, and he said
he thought it an attack of indigestion


and should not need to come 
again.  Four weeks from that day, Mch. 11,
we laid her to rest beside the children
who had gone before.
At first the illness did not seem
alarming.  She vomited often, much
of it bile, had no desire for food and
could not keep it down.  A 'billious
attack' said the Dr., like a billious
fever, only scarcely any fever, and apparently
little pain of any sort until 
the last.  Yet, knowing how little strength
she had, from the first I felt very anxious.  
For four days I think, she was
helped up in the morning, her wrapper
put on, she sat up a few minutes
then lay on the sofa in the sitting
room a good part of the day.  But
each day it was harder to do this,
and on Tues. morning she said she
wouldn't try to get up.  As I hung up
the dress in the closet, I said to myself
'she will never wear it again.'  She
did not.  Next day the Dr. thought her
better, but the two following days she 
was not as well and I began to feel
my own strength going. Up to this time,
the 2nd Friday, Father had slept there
as usual and given what care sheneeded in the night which had not 
been a great deal. Now something else 
must be done and we sent for Clarinda. 
Mrs. Sagendorph took care of 
her that night and C. came Sat. morning. 
Another week went by. C & I sat 
up alternate nights until two or
 three A.M. then Father got up and 
took the care until daylight. "About 
the same" was all we could tell 
the friends who inquired, yet all the 
time she grew weaker, could not 
now turn herself at all. Still the disease 
did seem controlled, there was less 
vomiting, food was retained and considerable 
nourishment taken. Just at the 
end of the second week, while, as usual
 rubbing her legs just before I went to 
bed, I noticed she was unconscious. 
Alarmed we at once sent for the Dr. 
but before he came she had recovered 
from it - whatever it was. We began now 
to seek a nurse, a difficult search but 
were fortunate to find a good one, an 
elderly, motherly woman who did all
could be done. For the next
 week we had watchers by night and 
the nurse by day. My own strength 
went too and for three days of that 
third week I was not dressed. Mother


seemed to fail fast and on the third
Sunday was unconscious nearly all
day, just breathed, and the end was looked
for any time. Yet in all these sinking
spells, when only by putting the before
her mouth could we know she breathed,
[still,] her pulse beat strong about 84. It was
so strange. After that day she rallied a
little, took nourishment; and lived on
for ten days more. These sinking, unconscious
times came, nearly every day
and toward the end, oftener. The last half
of the sickness her mind wandered often,
never to be violent, but the work troubled
her, and she lived over the cares of
her house keeping. She did not always
know me. When I said "Dont you know 
me? It's Maria." She said "Is it? I thought it 
was Maria's daughter." Poor Mother! She was
fond of children. I wish she could have had
a grandchild of her own.
It was this third week that Dr. Roberts had to
go away about twenty miles from St. Albans
to bring home his wife's sister who had apparently
but a short time to live unless something
was done at once. He left it with us
to say whether he should go or not, if we
thought he ought to stay he would. He had
been so kind. I did not feel we had anyright to keep him from others who needed 
him as much. Dr. Rand, who came from 
Monson to take his patients, would do everything 
just as well as he, he said. And it was
true. We shall always think of Dr. Rand 
most gratefully. Had she been his own 
mother instead of a perfect stranger, he 
could not have been more faithful or 
more delicate in some of the unpleasant 
things which must have been so hard for 
her, poor Mother, tho' she made no sign 
of realizing them, still I think she did.

Up and down went my hopes, half a 
dozen times in a day perhaps. The fourth 
Sunday she wandered much, yet took more 
nourishment than for some days and was 
bright and natural some of the time and 
any hopes rose once more. C. had now been 
here two weeks and felt she must go to W.A. 
and attend to somethings there. She went 
Tues. A. M. Mch [?] Lucie was here for the 
day to help, and Hattie Crowell was coming 
at night. Mother was fast failing. She had 
sunk into stupor and only roused once, Tues. 
P. M. to say anything; in answer to my question 
if she wanted drink, she said 'no she 
thought not', and lapsed at once into unconsciousness. 
Her breath came quick and 
short but the pulse still beat strong and fast.
 
At dark, we thought she was going. O the 
stillness of that time! Hattie came on 
the evening stage — a most precious angel 


of help and comfort in all those 
days.

When the night nurse came (for we 
now had a regular one) every preparation 
was made for the final needs, it 
seemed as if life could not hold out till 
morning. I slept an hour on Tues, a time 
of dreadful dreams. That day the poor heart 
still panted on, quicker now and harder. 
All we could do was to moisten the lips 
and let a drop or two into the mouth, more 
would have choked her. At times the face 
was red, almost purple, almost in blisters. 
It seemed as if my own heart would break 
if that poor, suffering one did not cease 
its beating, yet it labored on until almost 
sunset. Only one spasm of pain passed over 
the face, then shorter and fainter came the 
breath until with one faint flutter of the white 
lips the breath went out, the soul to its maker 
and I was mother-less!

That was seven weeks ago — it is like seven 
years! Each week it grows harder and harder 
to bear. I feel alone. It seems as if 
all my former life had ended. I do the 
work in a mechanical sort of way but 
the most that made life of any meaning 
to me has gone. C. has been here all the 
time so far — is at Mr. Stone's today. She 
will, I presume go to her home before long. 
She has proposed Father selling out andgoing to N.A. to live with her. It breaks 
my heart over again to think of it and I am 
sure for the present it is not best. The few
friends and interests Father has are here;
here his land and while he is able to work 
he will be more contented here than he 
could ever be elsewhere. But it is very
very lonely. It can never be anything else.
   For her I cannot mourn. She was 
ready to go - a long, faithful, useful life 
is ended, she is at peace. I never saw a 
more peaceful. restful face than hers as 
it lay in its last sleep. But life is a dreary 
thing without her.
Everybody has been very kind, and I have
known as never before the power of sympathy.
Susie was a sister to me, so was Hattie.
   We hope to find some elderly 
woman to come here and help me about 
the work. I would do it if I could but my 
strength is not equal to it. C- is for having 
me go away for some months to some 
retreat, or sanitarium or something, but I feel 
it can be but a short time now that I shall 
have any home, here at least, and it is best
I should stay.  Sometimes I hope for a year
with you- but not now. If you were only 
coming home this year! Won't you and
spend the summer here? And yet - I know
what it means to you to leave Dr. for so long a 
time. But I wish I could have you.
With love, my dear Kitty
until the next, Maria


Provincetown, Mass.
On the beach, Sept. 1st 1887.

My dear Kitty,
Once more we have
seen the summer pass away and autumn
come in with one of her lovliest days. It 
has been a busy season for you no doubt and 
 with unexpected happenings.  So too, to me
though in a different way.
Imagine your friend seated this perfect day
on a heap of eel grass over which a 
cloak is spread. I lean back my head and it 
touches the floor of a wharf , one of many which 
extend into the harbor. High tide brings 
the water half way up under the timbers,
but the tide is ebbing now and bare sand 
and pebbles, some of the sand is the color of
burnt sienna, lie uncovered. Boats which 
were floating on deep water this forenoon 
are beached now among the olive seaweeds.
Little children with bare feet are wading 
out beyond the fishing boats, a brown water-
spaniel follows them, and the ducks waddle downinto the pools and gobble up things with
satisfied quacks.  Hardly a ripple stirs
the surface of the harbor and the boats
far out lie motionless upon it.

On the right curves a strip of sand and
grass, the very lip of the Cape, on which is
a lighthouse and the remains of two forts
built in the last war.  On the very lip end, and
for some rods on the ocean side is a row
of broken rocks brought from Rocport to
keep the land from washing away.  I've
only seen one rock of any size about here
except these.  On the left another point bounds
the harbor on the ocean side of which stands
the Truro light house which shows clearly
with its white building against the blue
sky.  Its light gleams over the harbor at 
night although it is several miles away.

There are many fisheries to be seen
and two little settlements, parts of Truro
I suppose, on the left.  In the house set 
along the beach men sit weaving nets,
minding boats and telling stories.
It is a scene full of interest, but the white
waves are both love are lacking.

You are wondering how I
came here when I expected to have


extending most of the way.  There are
some nice places.  A great many Portugese
settle here who are not liked
by the people.  Fishing is of course the
chief employment, mackerel, cod, and
whale fishing.  Last night I saw a big 
whaler just in from a stormy voyage
which brought a part of the crew of a
supposed wrecked vessel from this town.
There are women bearing dreadful
suspense, hoping almost against hope,
for more tidings of the lost Ellen [Rirpak].

There is an eccentric
character here, reminding me a little
of Capt. Smith only that he is very easy
instead of nervous.  He is about fifty,
lives alone keeping house nicely, is
very fond of children.  One of the boarders
greatly pleased him and allowed her
to use his boat when she pleased.
To his kindness and hers I owe
several delightful day rides.  One morning
he rowed us to the point, spent an
hour or two, returning in time for dinner.
Last night he pulled us up the harbor
to go to the post office.  It was clear and
lovely with a full moon.Last Friday we drove seven
miles to the Truro light house.  It stands
on a cliff as high as Gay Head but
without its pretty coloring.  The light 
is first class and gives a grand view
over the ocean.  A huge fog horn,
driven by two engines is in a house nearby,
making a mournful sound in the
frequent fogs.
The drive to Highland reminds one of 
that to Gay Head except there is more
sand and fewer flowers.  There are numberless
diverging roads with no guidebooks, 
bewildering, especially coming
 home, for while all lead to the light
all did not lead to Provincetown.
Twice we were lost, once helped
back to the right way but an elderly
gentleman who wished our names and
wrote them on paper, then gave us his
own, Samuel [Wamer??] of [Wrondham??].
There are hills of clean white
sand, showing against the blue sky
so decidedly.  I want to go to the ocean
side some day and see the life saving
station.  The keeper will be there now
since Sept. has come.

I expect to go home on Monday's
boat at half past two, and reach
home Tues. evening.  A home going without
mother!  I think of it every day and
it seems too hard to bear.  As yet all our
efforts to find help for the fall have
failed and I may not have anyone.
I make few plans - the future seems only
a dark wall to me.  It must be a step
at a time and 'day by day'.
I want to hear of your summer 
doings and goings.  Did you and Dr.
go to the continent-;  soon they will be
home.  As I go thro' Boston shall drop
in the Journal office and inquire
for the travellers. 
It is past five and near tea time.  The harbor
is lovely.  I do believe I could almost
marry a sailor if he would let me live
inland half the time.
Did you ever read "Thaddeus of Warsaw"?
Isn't it extraordinary. I was given me
at Xmas and I've just read it here.
Hoping to hear soon, 
With love,
Maria2.
rained so I contentedly stayed in and
so became the better acquainted with
the boarders.  They have been dropping off
since then, and I am the last.  They were
nice people and with two sisters, teachers
in Springfield, and one lady with
a little girl in her care from Worcester,
I hope the acquaintance has not 
ended.  I have been here nearly two weeks
and feel like a new person.  To be sure
I do not try my strength, do not walk
much or do housework of course, but
I feel some life now and I didn't
when I came.  From home Clarinda,
Susie and Mrs. Hearding write of the
cold weather.  It is just right here with
such soft air.  Even when it is cool there
is no chill as at M. V.  or Marblehead.
I wear a cambric dress every day and  sit
hours in the sun.  My hammock swings
from two trees in the yard and I lie there
afternoons when not down here.  It is
not as far from my boarding place to
the beach as from my home to the
Eaton place.  The most of the town
lies fronting the harbor, one long street
of three miles with a plank sidewalk.

gone to the mountains. Ah, my plans
went sadly 'agly' and instead of starting 
for Vt. the first week in Aug. as I hoped
I was in bed attended by Dr and nurse 
and unable to walk alone across the 
room.
I had so looked forward to Aug. to laying 
down the care for awhile, resting and seeing
friends. My girl went the 21st of July, 
and in some ways her going was a  relief.
The next week was hot. I was very 
busy working and with company. Thursday
night Clarinda came home. Friday was
very hot and close. We rode in the forenoon,
were home  a little late, I hurried about 
dinner, ate heartily, was hot and tired.
Took a bath, lay down, drowsed a little and
got up with legs stiff as two sticks. A sudden
cold had gone all over me. Next day
I was feverish, Sunday no better and the
Dr. came. Was better at night, but woke
next morning in great pain in chest
and side. It was a sudden, sharp but
short attack of pleurisy and I suffered 
for twenty four hours as I never did
in my life before. Knowing a little of
the nature of disease I was fully aware
 I could not bear that long and live. I
faced it all that day and was submiss-ive tho' I longed to see the dear absent
friends who did not even know anything
ailed me.  But I still live and it must
be God has use for me yet.  When the
pain and fever were over I was very weak
and strength came slowly.  The hot summer,
with little good sleep and my care
and work were not favorable to quick
recovery.  So it seemed best after much
waiting and perplexity, to give up the 
mountains.  The Dr. did not think it best
for me to leave home at all, but it seemed
to me I could not take up the fall
work without getting out of sight
of it for a time, and Clarinda only 
came home for August. So it was suddenly
settled, the sea and Provincetown.
On Friday, Aug 12th I rode out for the first 
time, about a mile.   On the 19th, I left at
3.55 P.M. on the new Mass. Central R.R,
for Boston, spent the night at the Y.W.C.A.
rooms and went on board the Longfellows 
for P--  at nine next morning. 
Four hours of sailing brought us here.
I enjoyed it greatly, ate a hearty dinner 
on board and never had a hint 
sickness. I reached here much exhausted
 and for nearly a week could not venture 
out much.  Most of the time it 

Ware Oct 31st 1887
My dear Kitty, 
I was very 
much pleased with the shawl
and thank you very sincerely. It is
very much admired by all who have
seen it. It will not be worn much
now, not at all at present, but it
will be ready when I take off mourning
which will not be for another 
year if I live. You do not like mourning 
I believe, but I wear no crape, 
no veil of any kind, only black wool
 silk or cambric. Mother liked to see it 
and it seems fitting to do it. It is but the 
faintest hint of what the real mourning 
is. That will last while life does.

[* I think of 
asking six people 
here on Nov 3rd or 4th 
All Chautauquans,
for a Bryant day,
an hour spent in 
reading selections
from his poems, 
a sketch of his 
life etc, then
some coffee and 
cake handed
around. Susie
is one of the 
Chautauquans. 
Miss Harding also. If I feel
able I hope to
do it. 
M.*]We have come to the last day of Oct.
a swiftly passing autumn, and one
of more cheer and greater happiness
than I dreamed it could be.  The weather
has been pleasant for the most
part, tho' with cold days, there have
been a number of friends here and
I have gone out to ride many of the
pleasant days.  I felt that it was for
my health, and so for the good of this
home, that I have all of that recreation
I could have.  Any work has
been hard, but strength has been
given for it all and I have a pleasant
companion in Annie Hills
who came in Sept. for one week,
has stayed nearly seven, and I expect
will stay until Jan. at least.  Hattie
Crowell was here nearly two weeks
in Sept., during which we had several
pleasant rides, a day with 

2.
They spent the night at the hotel
and I took Miss H. to drive the
next morning.  They left on the
noon train and it was all so soon
over that in many reflects it seems
almost like a dream now.
The great annual foreign missionary
meeting of our (Cong.) churches
met in Springfield early in Oct.  It
is a great gathering and has not
been for 25 years so near us.  I had
looked forward since last year to it
hoping to go though it all but only
went for one day, coming home so
exhausted, body and mind, that I felt
quite discouraged that I had so little
strength.  But I am fully as well now, 
better on the whole, than before my illness,
and except of late a weak feeling
on the left side, am not otherwise
reminded of that unhappy time.
Annie Hills also went for one day and
we enjoyed talking it over together.She is a graduate of the High School
here, had taught some, does not like
it very well and was not very
successful in Ware.  But she is a
bright, pleasant girl of twenty one,
a christian girl, faithful and willing, 
rather slow and not very strong.
Unlike your Maggie, she has a headpiece,
knows as much Latin as I, and 
vastly more Greek since I only know
a part of that alphabet and she
was fitted to enter Smith College.
Father has kept well all
summer.  The fall from the mowing
machine frightened me, but
he kept about each day and recovered
sooner than seemed possible.
He has done all the work except
two days or so in haying, cut all the
[rowen?], picked all the fruit, twenty 
bushels, more or less, of apples and 
pears, done all the gardening.  Is it
not rather remarkable when you

remember that he was eighty one
in August?  I am now trying to have
him spend a few days in North
Adams.  When I suggested that Clara
would meet him in Pittsfield he
was quite indignant saying 'there
was no need of her going there to
meet him, no more than of coming
to Ware'!  I suppose it is hard to 
feel oneself becoming so dependent
upon others and unable to care
for oneself.  It is hard work persuading
him to go and I may fail after 
all.  The milking seems to be the
chief obstacle he raises.  I have told
him I can do everything else and
someone can be found for that I am
sure.
Susie was greatly pleased with her
gift and you will have a letter of
thanks sometime.  She has had more
outings this fall than for a long
time, three visits away amounting tothree weeks in all, a pleasant change
from her own home and work which
will help her for a long time.  Last week
we had one more day in the woods at
our old home, a day when it seemed
as if all the bags of Aeolus were untied
yet not cold so that we took our lunch
out of doors sheltered by the children's
play house and enjoyed it all.  We hope
never to be too old or too fashionable,
or too burdened to lose our love for
those simple picnics.
I am sorry enough for your disappointed 
visit with the family.  I can 
see how greatly different it must have
been from what you expected.  Alice,
it is evident, has not learned to think
of others before herself, a lesson none
of us find very easy.  I remember
how she went off to W. the last time
you were here.  It would have seemed
most natural that they should 
have spent a half, at least, of the time
with you.  It is too bad!
I suppose by this time there is another
small Blackwell in N.J.  Hope

3.
it may be another boy, or better,
twins, a boy and girl.  Perhaps Emma
would not agree with [to] that.
We have two new neighbors; Mr. 
Jeffries, a young Englishman with
wife and three little children in a new
house this side of the Kenny place,
and Mr. Cony above, on our side, with
two grown up daughters, teachers and a
small boy.  The street is fast changing 
and while I loved it best as it used to be
I see it is best, even for us now, that
there are more people near us.  Street
lamps have also been put up lately.
Still another great change is near,
not great perhaps but hard to realize 
that the child Florence of a few years
ago is, very soon, to be married to Ossian
Moore, a young man who has been a 
clerk in the Otis Co.'s counting room
for a few years.  They are to board
at her father's for the present, and
the wedding will be within a month
I think.  A present is exercising mymind but it is hard to get what
I would like - indeed it is impossible
here, and I cannot go away now.
Last month I had three very pleasant
days at Dr. Blodgett's.  Carrie seems
much as usual, does not look worn
or old, and the daughter Carrie is a
nice, bright, sensible studious girl
of fifteen.  Mrs. Frank B. has another
little one, of six months, Marian
Miller Blodgett.
I am sorry to know of Mrs. Craik's death.
She has done good service with her pen
and made the world better for having
lived in it.  I have not read many
of her books but all I know are pure
and with some noble characters.
"King Arthur", I read last year and
liked.
Kitty, when you come to U.S. again
make this your home, if this home
still lives.  If I have another one where
I am mistress, that shall be the one.
You are more than welcome and
I wish heartily you were here for this
winter.  I am out of patience with the
Boston people.
We are getting ready for winter.  I don't
allow myself to look on - one day at a time
is all I can bear and use.
With love,
Maria


Susie, company, and some nice, 
quiet visits by ourselves in the afternoons.
One day Mrs. Cony and Ethel 
took tea; another, we had the Hardings 
to dinner, and one evening a visit
from Miss Fish, a teacher, a Mr. Bert
Davis, youngest brother of my old friend 
Sarah D- Bottum. He has lately come 
to this place to superintend the gas
works. He is a quiet young man, a 
good boy at home, about twenty-seven
now, just Hattie Cowell's age and 
her second cousin on her mother's 
side.
Before Hattie came I had a visit of 
an afternoon from Miss. Ellen Hotchkiss
of Westville Conn., and Miss. Isabel
Chapman, daughter of Dr. Edwin Chapman, 
95 Pierrepont St. Brooklyn. The 
former, you know, is my longtime 
correspondent, " Hazel Wylde" of the
Household. Miss C. is her intimatefriend, some six or seven years 
younger. Miss Hotchkiss is as old 
as I. They had been summering in 
Northampton and came for one 
day here. I had asked Ella, Miss H., to 
spend a week with me but she did 
not feel able, or equal to coming 
alone so Miss. C. came with her. It 
was rather an anxious time for me, 
more especially since Miss. C. was 
coming whom I only knew through 
Ella's letters, knew she was very wealthy 
and used to luxuries. She was very 
ladylike, animated, sensible and 
cordial. I must own to feeling 
very much constrained and had the 
feeling that I was being carefully
studied by both, the result disappointing
both I am sure, for I know that
Ella H. had created an ideal M.A.B. 
or as she likes to call me "Leslie" which
was far superior to the real one.