The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1896-06-14
lBy Elizapeth Stewart Phelps.l

kOOBgl 1cJu, 10y D. > lACA1uIG OOg
I remember one duh, cold day-it was
d Sunday-when, being entertained at
the home of Governor and Mrs. Clafin,
where Mr.. Whittier was also a guest,
the suggestion arose that we should
drive out to see Mr.. Lougfeppw. This
we did-Mr Whittier, Mrs and
myself. Mr.. Whittier was AT his bright
est on that drive to Cambridge; full of
good stories, and good appreciation of
them: more than usually cheerful and
inclined to talk happily.
We drove up to Longfellow's door;
there seemed an unusual silence about
the calm and gentle place. Mr.. Whit
tier went on alone and rang the bell.
1t was our purpose to remain in the
carriage, | think, leaving the two poets
10 their own great selves, undisturbed
by our smaller personalities. We were.
therefore, astonished to see Mr.. Whit
tier returning in q moment. He ram
down the steps and sprang in with ex-
cite"nent. hitting his tall hat, remem-
Der, on the carriage door, and entirely
unconscious that he had done so. He
was more agitated than 1 had ever seen
him.
''LongfeGlow is sicl!' he cried, very
sick! They are very anxious" He
leaned back ON the carriage cushions,
much peT-turbed.
II Is long time since l have seen
hirnr' he said, drearily His agitation
remained. The drive back to Boston
was a gloomy one. His vivacity was
quite extinguished
He scarcely spoke to either of us, all
the way, but stared solemnly out of the
window with eyes which seemed to see
nothing nearer than the world to which
his great friend was called. Every one
who knew him can understand what
his wonderful eyes must have been to
look upon at such time. We rode
home, and he went out at once to his
room, where his hostess always decreed
that he should be sheltered from all
possible intrusion. Longfellow died if
I am correct about it. two days after
To this day / seem to see him passing
on, through Che seer's look in Whit
tiers eyes
1T was disappointment" he
wrote. not TO be able to see Longfel-
low then, and much more after his
death, but am glad went on that last
sabbath, and that thee was with me-
All, WE'LL as Wordsworth asked,
after commemorative the friends who
had ieft him: Who next shall fall
and disappear ! await the answer
with awe and solemnity, and yet with
unshaken trust in the mercy of the All
Merciful.r
" AAAAliti NoS a SIN ana ScanIX VS.
1Tor: and new interior was an ipsur-
mountabie trouble to him in his later
Years. | think be cultivated in himself
KIND of chronic expectation of some
time Fulfilling his conditional promise
TO ocme and see me, but in point of
fact he never did. I saw him at the
houses OF ore or two old friends in
town, where he had acquired a habit OF
fitting in and out; or else at his own
home. And he wrote when he could.
Sometimes long silences fell between
the letters Sometimes they succeeded
each other quickly. This was as il
happened To me. my broken acquairl-
lance with him was one of the inspir-
ations of my life.
He was full Of frolic, in a gentle way:
No one of the worlds people ever had a
keeneT sense Of humor From every in
te7yiew with him one carried aways a
good story, or a sense of having had a
good time; he never darkened the day
or Swallowed the heart. He inspirited
He invigora5ed. II like" he wrote to a
friend, THE wise Chinese proverb:
You cannot prevent the birds of sad
ness from flying over your head but
you may prevent them from stopping
TO build their nests in your hair
With what boyish delight he alb
sorbed a fresh anecdote, if it had the
right ring to it. and how tendarly he
Most of the more amusing incidents
of his personal experience have been
long ago published by the friends with
whom he Fused to share them.
Perhaps 1.-The story about Lucy Lar
com is one Of them. but I venture tc
repeat H.-as one which has wildly
STAYED by me.
A caller, one of the innumerable
throng that moves" to the doors of the
distinguished, there to indulge tht
weak curiosity of an ignorance too pit
liable TO be angry with, made himself
troublesome one day in the poets home
at AmesbuTy.
I have come. sir he said, pompous
". ito take you by the hand. l have
long wished to know the author o.
Hannah Binding Shoes.
Now, Lucy LaTcom happened to bt
sitting, in her serene fashion, silently
by the window, at that time, and Mr.
Whittier turned toward her with tht
courtly bow into which the Quaker
poets simple manner could bend 81
regally when he chose.
Il am happy replied Mr.. Whittier
waving his hand toward the lady il
the window, ito have the opportunity
TO present thee to the author of tina.
admirable poe1h-Lucy Larcom."
1t was one of Mr.. Winters laugh
able "reminiscences of anti-slaver,
y
date for congress. that he was charged
by political enemies with 'ill-treatinl
his wifer'
For so gentle man as Mr.. WhittieI
was a very keen lance in argument.
4 man who prided himself on being
a disbeliever in Christianity once OBJ
eruCied his views on Mr.. Whittier in ;
blatant manner, enforcing the aSser
ton that there was no truth in Sh.
doctrine OF Immortality, because h
knew that he had himself. no SOUL
Friend" replied the poet, with rip
ping eyes. thee are undoubtedly right
I quite agree with thee. I am ready t
admit that thee has no soul. Bu+ speai
for myself, friend speak for thy
self
As I knew Mr.. Whittier in his late
years. my impressions of his life ar
those OF the most lonely period. Will
lleartacI1e for which there are no word.
] used to come away sometimes. from
glimpses Of rs deep, inward desola
ton Friends In. full measure had he
and everything possible was done il
his declining years by those who hat
the nearest right to minister to him
to give him comfort. But his solitud'
went TOO deep for the surface relations
of life to .fathom., Illness and deafnes.
and the imperfect use of his eyes in
creased it heavily. He could read blu
very little and could write less.
His home at Danvers was a pleasan
one full of creature comforts, and wo
manly kindliness. but the New Eng
land winter pressed heavily about it.
How do you spend the days?'
asked once. upon a bitter afternoon
when 1 had gone over from Andove
r.