On July thirty-first, I had a letter from my sister Alethia who was staying a few weeks at Castletown in the Isle of Man. In this letter she told me she had been with a marble cutter to Kirk Malew churchyard and had had Captain Thomas Huddleston's grave stone cleaned and all the moss and lichen removed from the lettering. My readers may remember that he was captain of the _Great Harry_ and was bringing home troops from America, when his ship was wrecked on Scarlet Rocks, every one on board perishing. And she told me, that when the stone was cleaned, she noticed that this tragedy occurred on the twenty-ninth of March, so that Captain Thomas Henry Huddleston and his son Henry died on the day that I was born.

Early in August I finished "The King's Highway" and began to try to dramatize "The Bow of Orange Ribbon." I did not stop for anything except to visit Mr. Hearst's Children's Republic near Haverstraw, and to write an article about it. I finished the play in September, and Mr. Frohman was so far pleased with it that he promised to find a playwright who understood stage business to work with me. On the twenty-fourth, he introduced me to Mr. August Thomas, who agreed to direct the work as soon as I came to the city for the winter.

October was a very busy month. I wrote half a dozen articles for Dr.

Klopsch, and on the twentieth I went to Princeton to attend a great anniversary. I stayed with my old pupil, Professor William Libbey, and Professor Wheeler of the California University, the author of a fascinating "Life of Alexander the Great," was there with me.

Professor Jacobus and Mrs. Jacobus were also there, and at night I went to a college concert with Mrs. Libbey. On the twenty-first I went to Alexander Hall with Mrs. Libbey and heard Henry Van d.y.k.e deliver a splendid poem written by himself called "The Builders." After it, I was unable to decide whether he was greater as an orator, or a poet.

On the twenty-second I saw the degrees given, heard Mr. Cleveland speak, and then went to a reception at President Patton's. On the third of the following March, I had a letter from Moses Coit Tyler in which he says:

MY DEAR MRS. BARR:

I had from my colleague Wheeler a faithful account of his talk with you at Princeton last fall, and of your kind message to me.

I'm sorry that I can't send you a portrait of the literary editor of the _Christian Union_ as he looked twenty-four years ago, when he was that great man. So I must ask you to accept this his latest portrait, which may tell you that these years which have crowned you with laurels, have crowned him with gray hairs. All the same he is

Yours faithfully,

MOSES COIT TYLER.

March 30, 1897.

On the twenty-fourth I was at home and wrote an article for Dr.

Klopsch on the Armenian question, and on the twenty-sixth I went to a great meeting in Carnegie Hall, called to sympathize with the persecuted Armenian Christians. This meeting was chiefly memorable to me, because I met there Dr. Burrell. He made the great speech of the occasion, and as I sat beside him on the platform I heard and enjoyed every word of it. As an orator, I do not think he has many equals, and his voice is very fine and resonant, and his gestures expressive and pleasing.

During all the month I had been working as I found opportunity on the "Prisoners of Conscience" enlarging it for the Century Company, but I also wrote an article for the _Advance_ on the "Four Champions of Justification by Faith"--Paul, St. Augustine, Luther and John Wesley.

At the close of October I saw Mr. Frohman again, and he told me Mr.

Thomas wanted one thousand dollars to go over the play, and he would not give it. He was most kind and gentlemanly, but I think this disappointment wearied him. I knew how he felt, because I also was weary of work that wouldn't be manageable, and I laid it aside without any regret, and returned gladly to "Prisoners of Conscience."

On the twelfth of November I was in New York, and going into Mr.

Dodd's store then on Fifth Avenue about Twenty-second Street, I met there Barrie and Mrs. Barrie, and Robertson Nicoll, a distinguished editor and publisher of London. I thought Mrs. Barrie a lovely and most attractive woman, and I was proud to take the hand of the famous Scotch novelist.

On the twenty-third of November I went to New York for the winter. I had not finished "Prisoners of Conscience," but Alice was so exceedingly psychic, I thought it best to take her away from the solitude of Cherry Croft to the material stir of the city. We went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, the proprietors of which house always made such favorable terms for me, that it was a point of economy in the winter to go there.

On the twenty-seventh, Mr. Frank Dodd asked me to a reception given to Ian McLaren, and on the same day Mr. Sankey gave me a pa.s.s to the Moody and Sankey meetings. I did not like Ian McLaren much, but I did like the stir of human feeling in the other invitation, and Mr.

Sankey's singing pleased me, for my taste had not been either trained, or spoiled, by too much cla.s.sical music; and Sankey's singing had in it, not only a fine lyrical cry, but also that "touch of Nature, which makes all men kin."

On the twelfth of this December, Mrs. Klopsch called on me, and then and there began the sweetest friendship that has come into my life. I love beauty, and she was, and still is, very beautiful; and her kind, cheerful disposition made her ten times more so. From that hour I have loved her dearly, nay, but I think I must have loved her somewhere long before that hour, for our attachment was always full grown. And I count her love among the best blessings that G.o.d has given me.

On the seventeenth, Mrs. Libbey called and brought me the Professor's photo in cap and gown. He looked very grave and handsome, and I could not help thinking of the days, in which I had given him music lessons, and cut many a slice of bread and jelly for him, when he came into my cottage, after a morning on the ice. Mr. Jewett took dinner with me and I finished "Prisoners of Conscience." On Christmas morning Mr.

Jewett entered my parlor with armsful of laurel and mistletoe, and dressed it beautifully; and Lilly and her husband came over from Brooklyn to dine with me. I believe in good dinners. In some way or other domestic happiness has a fundamental dependence on them, they are conducive to amiable understandings. They are a festal sacrifice to household love, and sacred friendship, and intellectual recreation; and they are necessary to every kind of success. Only the Scotsman "who is fit for anything when he is half-starved" may neglect his dinner, and not injure his fortune.

The year 1897 has a record similar to the one just described. I spent the first three months at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and then returned joyfully to Cherry Croft, and remained there until near the close of the year. It will be sufficient, if I now note the days containing distinctive events; for instance, on the seventh of January I addressed the men at the Bowery Mission, and on the fifteenth began a story for the Bach.e.l.ler Syndicate, called "The Price She Paid." Lilly was sick with grippe, and I missed her daily visit very much. On the twenty-ninth Mr. Thomas called again about the play, and I returned to it, but with little heart, though working under his direction. On the seventeenth of February I wrote "still working hard, but hopelessly on my play. I have finished the second act, and Mr. Thomas professes to be satisfied, even pleased; but then he is a very courteous gentleman." On the twenty-sixth and twenty-seventh I was at the Astor Library, and had a long comforting talk with Mr. Beauregard on reincarnation and other spiritual subjects.

On the fourth of March, Mr. Thomas came and appeared well satisfied with what I had done, and on the ninth Mr. Frank Dodd called and contracted for my next two stories. On the eleventh Mr. Beauregard dined with me, and afterwards lectured in my parlor on occultism. The rooms were crowded, and every one much interested. On the thirteenth I made tea at the Author's Club, having General Sickles at my left hand.

I took a dislike to him, perhaps unjustly, but the Southern gallantry I had admired forty years ago, seemed out of place in a man so old, and a company calm and intellectual. The following day I was at Mr.

Robert Underwood Johnson's to dinner. His now famous son was present, a dark handsome youth, with the quiet thoughtful eyes of dreaming genius.

I spent the evening of the twenty-first at Mr. Dana's, and saw all his wonderful collection of pottery. Very carefully he unlocked for me the box that held the famous Peach Blow jar, and I will tell the truth, and acknowledge that I was insensible to its beauty. I thought I had seen far lovelier vases. Rutger Jewett was with me, and on the twenty-fifth I was at Dr. Jewett's to tea. On the twenty-sixth Dr.

Klopsch asked me to go to India with the ship load of corn and wheat which American women had given to the famine sufferers. He wished me to go as the representative of these American women. My children would not allow me to accept the offer, which I regretted. The twenty-ninth was my sixty-sixth birthday, and all my rooms were full of flowers, but Lilly had gone to Cornwall, and could not come, so there was a little shadow on it. I spent the afternoon of the thirty-first at Colonel Ingersoll's and met there Andrew White, our Minister to Berlin, a most interesting man. He was just publishing a book and promised to send me a copy.

On the first of April I came back to Cherry Croft. Lilly had gone there three days previously, and the house was warm, everything in order, and a loving smiling welcome waiting me. I was very happy to be home again. On the third, Mr. Frohman wrote me that he was disappointed in the play. So was I. I had wasted a deal of time and strength on it, and I felt I was doing so, all the time I was working on it.

All the first week in May was spent in trying to see my way clear to go with Dr. Klopsch to India, about which he was urgent. But Alice was mentally very sick, and Mary and Lilly would not hear of the journey, the cholera being at that time very bad there. On June the thirteenth, the Reverend Mr. Boyd of Chicago preached a sermon against the "Prisoners of Conscience" which the Century Company had just issued in book form. On the twenty-second, the _Chicago Times Herald_ published my defence; and Dr. Boyd's sermon was only a splendid advertis.e.m.e.nt for the story. In July, I was busy finishing my new novel "I, Thou and the Other" but in August, I left it a week to write a story for the Bach.e.l.ler Syndicate, called "Judith of Keyes Grif."

On the twenty-sixth of September I was writing a story for _Leslie's_ called "The Lost I. O. U." and on the twenty-eighth I had a letter from Dodd, Mead and Company saying they liked "I, Thou and the Other"

very much. There was nothing out of the usual course of events in October, but a dinner which I gave, and which, quite unintentionally on my part, consisted only of three clergymen. One day the Reverend Mr. Snedeker, the Methodist preacher at Newburgh, told me many interesting things about Father McGlyn, his offence against the Church, and his summons to appear before some spiritual court at Rome.

I said, "I should like to see any man, who had been brave enough to offend the powerful prelates of Rome;" and Mr. Snedeker answered, "He wishes to meet you." "Then come to-morrow," I replied, "come to dinner, and there is a fine moon to light you home." He gladly accepted the invitation, and the next morning I sent and asked Mr.

Page, our Episcopal minister, to dine with them.

It was a remarkable meeting. Father McGlyn told us all about his visit to Rome, and his interview with the Pope; then he went to Alice's room, and blessed her, and blessed her altar, and prayed with her. For he had quickly discerned the spirit within her, and with a beautiful humility said it was greater and purer than his own. I shall never forget Father McGlyn. As a social man he was a failure, as a priest of G.o.d he was worthy of all honor.

On October the fifteenth, Professor and Mrs. Libbey sent for me to hear the Earl of Aberdeen and President Cleveland speak, but I did not go. A month afterwards I went to the Fifth Avenue Hotel for the winter at the same favorable terms. I noticed that there was a great crowd at dinner but I had a long, pleasant talk in the green parlor after it with Mr. and Mrs. Tom Platt. I liked both thoroughly. Mrs. Platt worked me a most exquisite center piece, and Mr. Platt wrote his name in the corner. This autograph I embroidered, and the beautiful square lies to this day over the green velvet cover of my dining-room table.

The next day I took lunch with the Mount Holyoke Alumnae, and made an address on "The Neighbor at Our Gate," a most important person, for we may choose our friends, but we cannot choose our neighbor. We have to take him as he is, and make the best of him.

On December the second, Miss Jewett, Mrs. Platt, and Mrs. Lockhart of Pittsburgh, and Mr. and Mrs. Saltus spent the evening with me, and I received an invitation to address the Congregational Club on January twenty-eighth, 1898; which I promised to do conditionally. On the seventh, Edward Bok called and I promised to write some short things for him. But I was really too tired to do anything, and was compelled to stay away from Mr. Rideing's reception on that day, and even Rutger's happy presence was almost more than I could respond to.

CHAPTER XXV

DREAMING AND WORKING

"Came the whisper, came the vision, Came the Power with the need."

"This is the scene of combat, not of rest, Man's is laborious happiness at best; On this side death his labors never cease, His joys are joys of conquest, not of peace."

Following my physician's advice, I slipped away to Old Point Comfort on December the twenty-third. I fell into a sound sleep as soon as I was on the boat, and practically slept all the way there. I had a letter of introduction to the proprietor of the hotel from Mr.

Hitchc.o.c.k, the proprietor of the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and was given rooms almost over the sea, and treated with unbounded kindness and respect. Lilly went down with us, and made my rooms comfortable, and ate Christmas dinner with us. We had a delightful surprise at this meal, for we were at the same table with Dr. Peck, one of my neighbors on Storm King Mountain, Cornwall, a most intelligent and delightful companion.

I was not really sick; I was only tired, so tired, however, that I could hardly lift my heavy, aching eyes, and my brain absolutely refused to follow a thought out, and I suffered much from a relaxed, nervous throat. I slept nearly night and day for a week, and the sea winds breathed fresh life into me. Then Lilly felt that she might leave me to their healing influence and the renewing power of sleep and rest.

On January the twentieth, I note, "I am much better. I feel nearly well." Dr. Frissel of the Hampton School called to see me. Reverend Father Hall, Judge Parker's son-in-law, sent me violets, and I had a strange but interesting letter from Lilly, who said she had been at a crystal party in M----'s studio rooms, and had heard a lecture by a Hindoo occultist. The guests were invited to ask him any question they wished him to answer, and Lilly asked how her mother was. He said, "She is at sea, or very near the sea. She will be quite well in February, and some good thing will happen at the end of the month. Her good fortune is at a standstill until then." And I add with emphatic undercrossing, "How does he know anything about me? My times are in G.o.d's hands." I will also add, that nothing he said was true.

In February I was able to see a few visitors, and I had a great deal of attention from the officers of the regiment stationed there.

Colonel Morris and Mrs. Morris called several times, and Lieutenant Allan and Mrs. Allan did all they could to make me happy. On the eleventh, they gave me at their house a delightful reception, and on the nineteenth I was entertained at the Officer's Club, and had all the privileges of the club presented to me. This honor was the more remarkable, as I was the only woman who had ever received it.

After this callers were so numerous, I thought it best to go home, for I was still very weak and nervous, and I feared to lose what I had gained. My eyes also were far from rested, and it was difficult for me to write. I was sorry to go, because Alice had been so happy, but it was "for Mamma's sake," and she went gladly.

No, I cannot write of the next few months. They were filled with sorrow of the most heart-breaking kind, and for the first time in my life, I could not go unto Him who promised to give rest to the sorrowful and heavy laden. Grief, with me, runs into motion, and I walked my room day and night, until exhaustion forced me to sit down.

I got the first help from a book Mr. Van Wagenen gave me. I had to go to Dodd, Mead and Company and all of the firm happened to be out but Mr. Van Wagenen, and he gave me a book, telling me to read it, and it would do me good. I do not know _why_ he did so. I tried to smile and look happy, but he may have seen the sorrow in my eyes, for its shadow is still there. This was on April twenty-first and on April twenty-fifth, I write, "I have taken courage, and am going on in G.o.d's strength. I can do nothing without G.o.d. I can do everything with G.o.d to help me. I will not fret, and I will not worry. I will cease from being hurt and angry. I will go back to my work, and trust in G.o.d to give me the sight and strength to do it."

It was during these months of such anguish as only mothers can know that the great comforting truth of reincarnation was fully revealed to me. And I count the sorrow, even if it had killed me, but a small payment for it. Slowly, but surely it dawned upon my soul, that the suffering which I had not deserved, by either thought, word or deed in this life, must have been earned in some previous existence, and this conviction enabled me not only to accept, but to forgive. Then I read upon my knees the Fifth-first Psalm and prayed, "Forgive me, for it is against Thee, and Thee only, I have sinned." I had paid my debt, and I was comforted; for we must all go up our own Calvary. The just cannot die for the unjust, the purehearted for the sinner, the merciful for the cruel.

"It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate I am the captain of my soul."

We all pay our just debts, we all reap then our just rewards. And my soul rose up to G.o.d's expectation, yielded