You are, bless you, not much wiser than your affectionate

MA.

Returned to Oak Glen, after the celebration, she writes:--

_To her son and his wife_

OAK GLEN, October 1, 1909.

... I found my trees still green, and everything comfortable. I did not dare to write to any one yesterday, my head was so full of nonsense.

Reaction from brain-fatigue takes this shape with me, and everything goes "higgle-wiggledy, hi-c.o.c.kalorum," or words to that effect.... We had a delightful visit with you, dear F. G. and H. M. I miss you both, and miss the lovely panorama of the hills, and the beauteous flower parterres. Well, here's for next year in early Autumn, and I hope I may see you both before that time. With thanks for kindest entertainment, and best of love,

Your very affectionate MOTHER AND DITTO-IN-LAW.

_To George H. Richards_[151]

OAK GLEN, October 1, 1909.

DEAR UNCLE GEORGE,--

I got through all right, in spite of prospective views, of fainting fits, apoplexy, what not? Trouble is now that I cannot keep calling up some thousands of people, and saying: "Admire me, do. I wrote it all my little own self." Seriously, there is a little reaction from so much excitement. But I hope to recover my senses in time. I improved the last two stanzas much when I recited the poem. The last line read

The Flag of Freedom crowns the Pole!

I tell you, I brought it out with a will, and they all [the audience]

made a great noise....

[151] Her man of business and faithful friend. Though of her children's generation, she had adopted him as an "uncle."

We doubt if any of the compliments pleased her so much as that of the Irish charwoman who, mop in hand, had been listening at one of the side doors of the theatre. "Oh, you dear little old lady!" she cried. "You speaked your piece _real_ good!"

Late October finds her preparing for the move to Boston.

"I have had what I may call a spasm of grat.i.tude to G.o.d for His great goodness to me, sitting in my pleasant little parlor, with the lovely golden trees in near view, and the devotion of my children and great kindness of my friends well in mind. Oh! help me, divine Father, to merit even a very little of Thy kindness!"

In this autumn she was elected a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and in December she wrote for its first meeting a poem called "The Capitol." She greatly desired to read this poem before the a.s.sociation, and Maud, albeit with many misgivings, agreed to take her on to Washington. This was not to be. On learning of her intention, three officers of the a.s.sociation, William Dean Howells, Robert Underwood Johnson, and Thomas Nelson Page, sent her a "round-robin"

telegram, begging her not to run the risk of the long winter journey.

The kindly suggestion was not altogether well taken. "Ha!" she flashed out. "They think I am too old, but there's a little ginger left in the old blue jar!"

She soon realized the wisdom as well as the friendliness of the round robin, and confided to the Journal that she had been in two minds about it.

On Christmas Day she writes:--

"Thanks to G.o.d who gave us the blessed Christ. What a birth was this!

Two thousand years have only increased our grat.i.tude for it. How it has consecrated Babyhood and Maternity! Two infants, grown to man's estate, govern the civilized world to-day, Christ and Moses. I am still thankful to be here in the flesh, as they were once, and oh! that I may never pa.s.s where they are not!"

The winter of 1909-10 was a severe one, and she was more or less housed; yet the days were full and bright for her. "Life," she cried one day, "is like a cup of tea; all the sugar is at the bottom!" and again, "Oh!

I must go so soon, and I am only just ready to go to college!"

When it was too cold for her to go out, she took her walk in the house, with the windows open, pacing resolutely up and down her room and the room opposite. She sat long hours at her desk, in patient toil. She was always picking up dropped st.i.tches, trying to keep every promise, answer every note.

"Went through waste-paper basket, redeeming some bits torn to fragments, which either should be answered or recorded. Wrote an autograph for Mr.

Blank. It was asked for in 1905. Had been _put away_ and forgotten."

She got too tired that morning, and could not fully enjoy the Authors'

Club in the afternoon.

"Colonel Higginson and I sat like two superannuated old idols. Each of us said a little say when the business was finished."

It is not recalled that they presented any such appearance to others.

She went to the opera, a mingled pleasure and pain.

"It was the 'Huguenots,' much of which was known to me in early youth, when I used to sing the 'Rataplan' chorus with my brothers. I sang also Valentine's prayer, '_Parmi les fleurs mon reve se ranime_,' with obligato ba.s.soon accompaniment, using the 'cello instead. I know that I sang much better that night than usual, for dear Uncle John said to me, 'You singed good!' Poor Huti played the 'cello. Now, I listened for the familiar bits, and recognized the drinking chorus in Act 1st, the 'Rataplan' in Act 2d. Valentine's prayer, if given, was so overlaid with _fioritura_ that I did not feel sure of it. The page's pretty song was all right, but I suffered great fatigue, and the reminiscences were sad."

Through the winter she continued the study of economics with some fifteen members of the New England Woman's Club. She read Bergson too, and now and then "got completely bogged" in him, finding no "central point that led anywhere."

About this time she wrote:--

_"Some Rules for Everyday Life_

"1. Begin every day with a few minutes of retired meditation, tending to prayer, in order to feel within yourself the spiritual power which will enable you to answer the demands of practical life.

"2. Cultivate systematic employment and learn to estimate correctly the time required to accomplish whatever you may undertake.

"3. Try to occupy both your mind and your muscles, since each of these will help the other, and both deteriorate without sufficient exercise.

"4. Remember that there is great inherent selfishness in human nature, and train yourself to consider adequately the advantage and pleasure of others.

"5. Be thankful to be useful.

"6. Try to ascertain what are real uses, and to follow such maxims and methods as will stand the test of time, and not fail with the pa.s.sing away of a transient enthusiasm.

"7. Be neither over distant nor over familiar in your intercourse; friendly rather than confidential; not courting responsibility, but not declining it when it of right belongs to you.

"8. Be careful not to falsify true principles by a thoughtless and insufficient application of them.

"9. Though actions of high morality ensure in the end the greatest success, yet view them in the light of obligation, not in that of policy.

"10. Whatever your talents may be, consider yourself as belonging to the average of humanity, since, even if superior to many in some respects, you will be likely to fall below them in others.

"11. Remember the Christian triad of virtues. Have faith in principles, hope in G.o.d, charity with and for all mankind."

A windy March found her "rather miserably ailing." Dr. Langmaid came, and p.r.o.nounced her lungs "sound as a ba.s.s drum"; nothing amiss save a throat irritated by wind and dust. Thereupon she girded herself and buckled to her next task, a poem for the centenary of James Freeman Clarke.

"I have despaired of a poem which people seem to expect from me for the dear James Freeman's centennial. To-day the rhymes suddenly flowed, but the thought is difficult to convey--the reflection of heaven in his soul is what he gave, and what he left us."