The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-02-03

teacher. Mary Chamberlain. came to me
from his mission room In Calcutta for q
four months stay. Almost Immediately /
got a letter from Whittier, begging me to
bring her to Am~esbury, an invitation we
were only too glad to accept, going by the
earliest train. and returning about night
fall. Whittier opened the door for tbs him.
self, and to our great pleasure we found
him alone. Miss Chamberlain was not only
a highly accomplished woman, but she had
a good deal of anna power, and an IN
tense love of her mission work. Whittier
wanted to know all that she could tell about
she was never tired OF talking. Her own
love of fun brought out the ROBUSTNESS
which was so distinguished a trait in the
For various reasons. he was greatly inter
pointed by my husband to fit advanced
classes for the university-the Indignation
or the boys who refused to be taught by a
must obey or leave the school. and finally
their intense devotion when they found her
more than qualified for the work, amused
him nightly. When the subject of caste
came to be discussed Miss Chamberlain told
an amusing story of her puska-wallo"--
tnat is, OF a young lad who sat all night in
the corridor. pulling the rope which moved
the great fans or punkas. His compensa-
nirht' was of magnificent easrna hs a full ha hs , snwe q
caste, and when he came into the school
the blue-blooded Brahmins refused to sit on
the same bench with him. Miss Chamber
lain drew a chair to her own side, called
him to sit Iii it, and made him share her
book. AS this was an honor they all priced
they were greatly COMPOUNDED, and she de-
scribed in a lively way their various re-
Inonstrances. to Mr.. Whittier's great de-
with Daniel Webster, Joseph Garland and
many another, he inherited, never did mer-'
rier service to the ancestor who bequeathed
them.
When the noon hour came, Mr.. Whittier
made his first apology for the absence. of
ms niece Some duty had taken her
away, ana ne was to get our dinner him.
self! He would not defer our visit, be-
cause it had been deferred once or twice
before, and | have often wondered whether
we were. we gave Miss Chamberlain a
chen, where he turned the chops and put
some potatoes in the oven, while / toasted
some sa bread cad fa made de, the tea, and heated a
meal, but after it thought and words grew
sober.
wHITTIER's DOUBT.
In connection with India, the subject of
Immortality was preached. Long and
serious was the talk. Whittier confessed
that if he could have one distinct proof
that Elizabeth still lived, no burden life
could bring would be too heavy to bear. /
had always imagined that Whittier's faith
was absolute, and this one utterance-of
course only that of a passing mood-so as
founded me, that / did not speak again
until we were preparing to go to the cars.
Then 1 said impulsively what l had often
said before: IF I doubted for a moment,
/ would not live ten minutes longer All
that makes this life endurable is the GER
tainty of another"
ing through a mist. If | could only feel
as thee does!' he said, ciasping both my
hands. It was on this day, that spoke
to him, moving nothing of the past, of a
thing while Elizabeth lived" he answered.
Nov 1t is too late"
To Whittier l owe one undying satisfac-
ton which l shall never forget. Charles
day I encountered Whittier in the street.
Our hands met in silence. After an inef-
mo matter, / shall see thee to-morrow.,'
the funeral"
NO." I SAID; there is no one to think
of me. l have no card. If 1t were any other
funeral, and Charles Sumner were alive, it
your" he exclaimed, but that must not
be-"
Before SUNDAY evening I had two cards.
Governor Claflin, both the result of Whit
tiers intercession. The grief / felt that
d tiey.s never e 1elv aea nnI IN f I sto wom ny Wn %
present at the services.
The passing moods of the poet were little
understood. 1 think, and seldom antici-
pated. He was in later years often de-
pressed and sometimes irritable in q lovely,
A tieah Birthday sDas .. ap q @agi GeeW Wr nts f fe hls
niece: 1T is bad enough to grow old with
out being twitted with it, / wrote him a
brief. saffectionate note, not thinking it a
1T thing for a moral discourse, and got a
sort of duplicate of his note to his niece
n return. why does thee congratulate
NY ears?" / could almost hear a low growl.
When the poem called Burning Drift
wood was published, a dear friend of
mine, who may have told the story himself
n print, wrote to thank him for the spirit
ual help it had given her. IAN angel from
heaven must have prompted thee ITO write"
replied Whittier, 'for / wrote that poem
feeling that l was no longer OF use to any
mortal!' 4
had at one time a very close corre-
Barbara Frietchie," and it was in the hope
of gratifying him that / made the researches
and prepared the volume published in 1892.
| had hoped to carry it to Amesbury in my
hand; but, alas, the printer was more tardy
than the angel of death.
Whittier had almost as morbid a dislike
of noise as Thomas CARLYLE. For his in
difference to music he was. I think, more
indebted to his Quaker training than to
any natural disability. My friend, Alice
Fletcher, distinguished as the first woman
70 be honored a fellowship in Harvard Col
Iege, as well, as by her remarkable contri-
buttons to ethnology, was once passing a
night in the same house with him. She was
then a young girl, not only remarkable for
her scientific musical training, but distin-
guished by a delicious voice. AS the pleas
ATTEST attention she could offer him she
asked If he would like some music. II do
not want any piano." he said grumpily,
thee may sing if thee wishes" And she
sang. taking no ofenSe, as the bird sings
one sunny ballad after another. When she
need ask no more questions" said he.
s'That must be the way the ANGELS sing