I wrote a pretty book one time, and then I wrote a play, And a friend who went to see it said she fainted right away.

Then I got up high to speculate upon the Universe, And folks who heard me found themselves no better and no worse.

Yes, I've had a lot of birthdays and I'm growing very old, That's why they make so much of me, if once the truth were told.

And I love the shade in summer, and in winter love the sun, And I'm just learning how to live, my wisdom's just begun.

Don't trouble more to celebrate this natal day of mine, But keep the grasp of fellowship which warms us more than wine.

Let us thank the lavish hand that gives world beauty to our eyes, And bless the days that saw us young, and years that make us wise.

"_May 27._ My eighty-sixth birthday. I slept rather late, yesterday having been eminently a 'boot-and-saddle' day.... The Greeks, mostly working-people, sent me a superb leash of roses with a satin ribbon bearing a Greek inscription. My visitors were numerous, many of them the best friends that time has left me. T. W. H. was very dear. My dear ones of the household bestirred themselves to send flowers, according to my wishes, to the Children's Hospital and to Charles Street Jail."

"_May 28._... A great box of my birthday flowers ornamented the pulpit of the church. They were to be distributed afterwards to the Sunday-School children, some to the Primary Teachers' a.s.sociation; a bunch of lilies of the valley to Reverend Hayward's funeral to-morrow. I suddenly bethought me of Padre Roberto, and with dear Laura's help sent him a box of flowers for his afternoon service, with a few lines of explanation, to which I added the motto: '_Unus deus, una fides, unum baptisma._' This filled full the cup of my satisfaction regarding the disposal of the flowers. They seemed to me such sacred gifts that I could not bear merely to enjoy them and see them fade. Now they will not fade for me."

Among the many "screeds" written this season was one on "The Value of Simplicity," which gave her much trouble. She takes it to pieces and rewrites it, and afterwards is "much depressed; no color in anything."

From Gardiner she "writes to Sanborn" for the Horatian lines she wishes to quote. ("Whenever," she said once to Colonel Higginson, "I want to find out about anything difficult, I always write to Sanborn!" "Of course!" replied Higginson. "We all do!" At this writing the same course is pursued, there is reason to believe, by many persons in many countries.)

It is remembered that in these days when she was leaving Gardiner at the last moment she handed Laura a note. It read, "Be sure to rub the knee thoroughly night and morning!"

"Why," she was asked, "did I not have this a week ago?"

"I hate to be rubbed!" she said.

"_July 1. Oak Glen_.... Found a typed copy of my 'Rest' sermon, delivered in our own church, twelve years ago. Surely preaching has been my greatest privilege and in it I have done some of my best work."

"_July 2_. Unusually depressed at waking. Feared that I might be visited by 'senile melancholia' against which I shall pray with all my might....

Began Plato's 'Laws.'"

Plato seems to have acted as a tonic, for on the same day she writes to her daughter-in-law, expressing her joy in "Harry's" latest honor, the degree of Doctor of Laws conferred by Harvard College:--

_To Mrs. Henry Marion Howe_

OAK GLEN, July 2, 1905.

Thanks very much for your good letter, giving me such a gratifying account of the doings at Harvard on Commencement Day. I feel quite moved at the thought of my dear son's receiving this well-merited honor from his _alma mater_. It shows, among other things, how amply he has retrieved his days of boyish mischief. This is just what his dear father did. I think you must both have had a delightful time. How did our H. M.

H. look sitting up in such grave company? I hope he has not lost his old twinkle. I am very proud and glad....

She was indeed proud of all her son's honors; of any success of child or grandchild; yet she would pretend to furious jealousy. "I see your book is praised, Sir!" (or, "Madam!") "It probably does not deserve it. H'm!

n.o.body praises _my_ books!" etc., etc. And all the time her face so shining with pleasure and tenderness under the sternly bended brows that the happy child needed no other praise from any one.

"_July 23_.... I feel to-day the isolation consequent upon my long survival of the threescore and ten apportioned as the term of human life. Brothers and sisters, friends and fellow-workers, many are now in the silent land. I am praying for some good work, paying work, so that I may efficiently help relatives who need help, and good causes whose demand for aid is constant...."

"_July 24_. To-day Harry and Alice Hall have left me with their two dear children. I have had much delight with baby Frances, four months old....

I pray that I may be able to help these children. I looked forward to their visit as a kindness to them and their parents, but it has been a great kindness to me...."

"_September 5_. Some bright moments to-day. At my prayer a thought of the divine hand reaching down over the abyss of evil to rescue despairing souls!..."

"_September 19_. Dear Flossy and Harry left. I shall miss them dreadfully. She has taken care of me these many weeks and has been most companionable and affectionate. My dear boy was as ever very sweet and kind...."

"_September 22_. Have puzzled much about my promised screed for the 'Cosmopolitan' on 'What would be the Best Gift to the People of the Country?' As I got out of bed it suddenly occurred to me as 'the glory of having promoted recognition of human brotherhood.' This must include 'Justice to Women.' I meant to tackle the theme at once, but after breakfast a poem came to me in the almost vulgar question, 'Does your Mother know you're out?' I had to write this, also a verse or two in commemoration of Frederic L. Knowles, a member of our Authors' Club, who has just pa.s.sed away."

"_September 25_.... I must have got badly chilled this morning, for my right hand almost refuses to guide the pen. I tried several times to begin a short note to David Hall, but could not make distinct letters.

Then I forced myself to pen some rough draft and now the pen goes better, but not yet quite right. I had the same experience last winter once. I suppose that I have overtired my brain; it is a warning...."

"_October 5_.... I had a moment of visioning, in which I seemed to see Christ on the cross refusing to drink the vinegar and gall, and myself to reach up a golden cup containing 'the love pledge of humanity.'

Coming home I scrawled the verses before lying down to rest."[147]

[147] These verses are printed in At Sunset, under the t.i.tle of "Humanity," and at the head of chapter XI of this volume.

"_October 9_. After a week of painful anxiety I learn to-day that my screed for the 'Cosmopolitan' is accepted. I felt so persuaded to the contrary that I delayed to open the envelope until I had read all my other letters...."

"_October 25_. Meeting of Boston Authors' Club.... Worked all the morning at sorting my letters and papers.... Laura, Maud, and I drove out to Cambridge. I had worked hard all the morning, but had managed to put together a sc.r.a.p of rhyme in welcome of Mark Twain. A candle was lit for me to read by, and afterwards M. T. jumped upon a chair and made fun, some good, some middling, for some three quarters of an hour. The effect of my one candle lighting up his curly hair was good and my rhyme was well received.

"_Mark_ the gracious, welcome guest, Master of heroic jest; He who cheers man's dull abodes With the laughter of the G.o.ds; To the joyless ones of earth Sounds the reveille of mirth.

"Well we meet, to part with pain, But ne'er shall _he_ and _we_ be Twain."

"_December 5. Gardiner, Maine._ On coming to breakfast found a note from dearest Maud, saying that she would sail this day for Spain. Was much overcome by this intelligence, yet felt that it was on the whole best.

The day pa.s.sed rather heavily, the relish seemed gone from everything."

"_December 6. Boston_.... Reaching home I lay down to rest, but the feeling of Maud's departure so overpowered me that I got up and went about, crying out: 'I can't stand it!' I soon quieted down, being comforted by my dear Laura, Julia, and Betty, but could not sleep until bedtime, when I slept soundly."

CHAPTER XIV

"THE SUNDOWN SPLENDID AND SERENE"

1906-1907; _aet._ 87-88

HYMN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL CONGRESS OF RELIGIOUS LIBERALS

_Held in Boston, 1907_

Hail! Mount of G.o.d, whereon with reverent feet The messengers of many nations meet; Diverse in feature, argument, and creed, One in their errand, brothers in their need.

Not in unwisdom are the limits drawn That give far lands opposing dusk and dawn; One sun makes bright the all-pervading air, One fostering spirit hovers everywhere.

So with one breath may fervent souls aspire, With one high purpose wait the answering fire.

Be this the prayer that other prayers controls,-- That light divine may visit human souls.

The worm that clothes the monarch spins no flaw, The coral builder works by heavenly law; Who would to Conscience rear a temple pure Must prove each stone and seal it, sound and sure.

Upon one steadfast base of truth we stand, Love lifts her sheltering walls on either hand; Arched o'er our head is Hope's transcendent dome, And in the Father's heart of hearts our home.

J. W. H.