St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1888-10-25
HARRIET BEEcHER STOWE.
Something of Her Present Life and Sur
roundinzs.
", To-F Hsr1Jd

Neao York Herald.
Mrs. Stowe has stopped writing, but
she cannot stop thinking. Wherever
she is or whatever she may be doing,
her MUD is still active, restless and
inquiring, as of old. OF aimless Curl
osity about people in general, which is
so common to many women otherwise
sensible, Mrs. Stowe has not a particle;
her own acquaintance meet her in the
street and are passed without sign of
recognition, so some call her absent
minded. No sooner, however, does
she see people who are engaged in any
sort of work than her attention is at
tracted at once. Not house is built.
a well dug, a road opened or fence
replaced within a mile of her house of
which she does not know all the de
tails by personal observation and per-
sistent questioning. A carpenter who
was asked if Mrs. Stoves interest in
his work did not become annoying, re-
piled:
"Not bit of it. like to hear the
old lady talk. She knows as much
about carpentry as do. l don't know
wher" she learned it, but | get first
re- dea from her once in a while.
That amt all she knows, either. One
day | heard her tellin' a man how to
hold his pillow, and darn me if she
didn't know more about it than he did.
I've been told that she set the author
tiles right about road maxim once, out
in her neighborhOod, an they had to
give in too"
Her interest is not restricted to hu-
man activities, either. Sometimes
when she has started in haste on an
errand, she will stop for quarter of
an hour to observe some nest building
birds or the antics of a chipmunk, and
old though her eyes may be, she can
"take in" the surface operations of a
colony of ants which she chances to
encounter in a walk across the fields.
When she returns she will not be able
to name Il single person of the many
she probably has met, but she can eX-
plain, with all desirable detail, every
thing she saw being done.
No one can pass nearly four score
years without having some reminders
that human nature has its limits of ex-
istence. Mrs. Stowe has no special
aiIment to complain of, but she admits
that physically she tires more easily
than of old and that her mind does not
respond as readily to her will as in
days gone by. She frequently fOrgets
names and faces and will not trust her.
self to carry messages; she wearles
quickly of desultory conversation,
even when among her dearest friends.
Never, however, does she tire of the
prattle of her little grandson, whose
father, Rev. Charles Stowe, is pastor
of a Hartford church. She has an
nounced that her literary career is end
ed, but she does not believe that her
earthly race is run. Her late sickness
frightened her, but she has since boast
ed that nothing but a taste of Hartford
air was needed to make her well again.
She says, with touching pathos, that
her heart goes out more to friends Ill
the other world than here, but she new
er seems to brood over eternity or to
be impatient to have "faith lost in full
fruitiOn." If her summons is to come
only in the natural course of old age,
there may still be many pleasant years
of life's evening before her.