The Sunday herald and weekly national intelligencer., 1890-09-14
THE POETESS AND PENCIL.
THEY MAKE A PILGRIMAGE TO SEE
WHITTIER AND HOLMES.
And Are Charmingly Received by the
Venerable Poets-The Ethereal Appear
ance of the Good Old Quaker-Dr.
Holmes Still Spry and Merry.

Ny compdgnon du voydge, the Poetess, shared
in my enthusiasms and admiration for old Salem
and its environs, and gladly accepted my invi.
tation that we should ''do" its historic and ira
ditional sights together. The charming recep-
tion given to the W. n. p. A. by the New Eng
land Woman's Press Club had given us taste
of the beauties of the ocean side and the north
shore as we shared in their hospitaities at the
Willows the Saturday before. Had we not on
that memorable occasion gone to sea in bowl
l mean launch, The Three Brothers-as far as
the rocky ribs of Marblehead? And had not
every one of us thought of cold Floyd Ireson,
with his hard heart, who was tarred and feath-
cred and rode in a cart" and repeated it under
our breath or aloud, as a part of Marbleheads
atmosphere? Aye, verify
Well that was over and gone, but still to
memory dear; and so were our w. N. P. A.
down to the Poetess and this Pencil, who, for
one reason and another still fingered in the
charmed atmosphere of the antique that envel-
opes the old town of Salem, place of witching
history and still bewitchng environs Places
are just as much personal as people, and they
cannot get rid of their individuality if they
would. Salem is very individual.
To the Poetess and Pencil there were some
things-rather some persons-in the vicinity
that drew us still more powerfully than old
houses with history. Hawthorne's hip-roofed
birthplace, or the place where the witches gave
up their lives-witches' hill. These two noted
persons, who had enriched many an hour of our
precious past with that wtchery which never
grows old, noble sentiments for freedom put to
happy verse, or genial thought, abstruse idea so
woven into an "autocratic" talk, or delivered
with such pungency as one sips his tea-it were
high treason to sense of the fitness of things
for Poetess or Pencil to wander Salemward
and not bow down in reverence before these
New England intellectual idols, the noble
Whittier, the genial DR.. Holmes !
One of the elect ladies of Salem was to act
guide. although she confessed to never having
been on such pilgrimage before. 1t being so
near at hand she had always been .'ntending
to- and we all know that the 'sights" at home,
whatever they are, are neglected or deferred to
the convenient season that seldom ever comes
unsought.
The Poetess and Pencil each decided that the
Lord made this perfect day, $50 COOL so calm,
so BRIGHT on purpose for them to enjoy this
Pious Pilgrimage to the full-a special provi-
dence in their behalf. Summer and autumn
were coquetting in New England fashion, and
all the landscape wore the greenery of summer,
with here and there touch of autumnal color
on tree or bush, with an atmosphere so refresh
ing that ones rhetoric flew out of the window,
and the word delicious" seemed the only word
to express its loveiness.
We rode in noble style from Salem to Danvers
via the horse-cars, through meadows sweet.
bordered by picturesque stone fences. Then
we got out and walked through shady lanes,
under old elms, each one skiing of glory" and
noted the wealth of golden-rod and purple asters
by the wayside as we pursued the winding and
secluded byways that led to Whittier's still
more secluded home, situated midway between
Danvers and Peabody. Now, to the Poetess and
Pencil this getting there had all the charm of
romance; and he who dares to ''cut it out"
blasted be his scissors forever
,,n 1noI
first house on the right after you turn into the
shady road" A tangle of asparagus fringed the
lawn on the right hand, on the left a thicket of
evergreens, through which we crept, coming to
n shady spot of oval greenery, in the centre of
which played fountain. Beyond low, two
storied, much-be-porched cottage looked out
over slopes of green lawn, well shaded with oaks,
which give rise to the name of the place. soak
AT first it seemed as though our journey had
been made in vain, for so many old friends had
called to see him during the Army meet that he
was well-nigh worn out but in consideration to
the Poetess's claim to recognition-an auto
graph letter from him-he agreed to see us ''if
we would not detain him long, as he could not
talk" He came in, a tall, welldressed, most
refined, spirituel-looking man. whose pictures
never did nor can express the sanity beauty of
his countenance as he bade us welcome with the
courtesy of a refined old English gentleman.
The Poetess did all the talking for us with her
soul beaming from her eyes, while Pencil was
content 10 merely Jake uulu anu uGT
undyng pleasure to have had the privilege,
when she began to feel that touch of pathos that
one feels at the happest wedding where happi-
ness is akin to tears. Her eyes filled up, and
she sat down too full of feeling for words
Whittier wore black trousers, a 1ark-blue
dress coat, dark waistcoat, and tie. His dress
was perfect, and fitted him with that exquisite
neatness which the Quaker lady's dress always
assumes, but which is seldom seen in that of the
men. He stepped feebly and looked almost
ethereally frail, but Pencil never looked upon
more gently refined face in man or woman. His
whole aspect touched her, and she thought, ~
never shall gaze upon his like again" THERE'S
something pathetic in old age unaccompanied
by any solace of family ties, such as Wife, sister,
daughter give, however lofty the genius. HUI
manity and its needs were first and are always
last in this world. The heart Graves sympathy
after the intellect ceases to satisfy. Even Whit
tiers lot would be pitiful were it not for the
household attentions of three kinswomen, who
make home for him and give him the care and
reverence of dutiful daughters. The home they
make for him is nearly the ideal home of the
poet, secluded, rural, refined in its furnishings
and such as he can rest in while he waits for the
''beckoning handn which none can resist, how
ever great.
After sundry waits for cars, which had no
power to move either POetess or Pencil from
serenest content, they rumbled back to Salem
on the electric cars, as they should when about
to pay their respects to the poet who harnessed
IN the witches and ttmade them work - AnV-