Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1901-10-14


mine.
Methinks through the din of thy thronged
banks, moan
OF sorrow would come for the days that
are gone
So wrote the New England Quaker poet
in his quaint and charming Massachusetts
home. yet it is gratifying to know that
picturesque old Amesbury remains in APP
pearance at least, identically the same
that 1t was during the days OF Whittier's
prime.
The same colonial houses, square and
severe in outline lacking the broad We
randas and white columns OF the south,
stand prominently out upon the well-sha-
ded streets. The same brass knockers
still polished and shining, adorn the doors,
and here and there on the oldest buildings.
placards bearing dates have been placed
| for the enlightenment Of passing visitors.
Leaving the old part OF the town one
comes upon summer cottages, with vel
vety lawns. immaculate flower beds, and
modern improvements" Yet Amesbury
proper contains no pairing to mar the
perfect tranquility OF an old age. charm
ingly serene and containing no suggestion
| Of neglect or decay.
WHITTIER's HOME.
Entering the unpretentious old house
that was Whittier's home during the
greater part OF his life, number OF our
party turned to me with the remark: You
see 1t does not take luxury to make
poet" -t------
Luxury. no! The peculiarly satisfying
loveliness Of the whole place and its
surroundings; the poets beloved garden
in the rear and not far away the peace
| full beauty OF the willow fringed Merri-
mac, was II not enough? 1t did not seem
wonderful that Whittier should have been
a poet.
The place, owned by Whittier's niece,
is in charge of an association Of Ames-
bury women, and kept open for the pub
/ lie, who may, IL they so desire, drop a
/ small fee in a box kept for the purpose, as
| 1t is desired by the organization in charge
to raise a fund that may assure the per-
/ manency OF this memorial to the poet.
A young woman, Of sweet and gentle
bearing showed US over the old house,
and conversed in peculiarly hushed
voice that made me occasionally shudder,
\ and glance round to see IL perchance, the
| coffined form Of some member OF the
| Whittier family remained Whereabouts,
i awaiting burial.
Pictures of Whittier himself, his mother.
sister and friends adorn the walls. Will
| lam Lloyd Garrison, Charles Sumner,
| Emerson, Gen. Gordon, Lucy Larcom and
| Celia Thaxter occupy conspicuous places
The little parlor, left almost as II was
| when the Whittier family received their
visitors there, contains quaint and de-
4
Mrs presented the poet by distinguished
admirers. and Whittier's Harvard di-
/ ploma, on which were noticed some vail
liable autographs, among them that OF
John Quincy Adams.
And the beauty of It ALL" remarked
a practical western girl. whom we had
| dubbed 'Salemina," after one of Kate
| Douglas Virgins three interesting trav-
/ elers, 1.-The beauty of it all is its unmistak-
| able stamp of genuineness.
| Both library and dining room are filled
with bookcases whose every volume pos
| sesses the sacred interest OF personal as
ISOLATION. Their fly leaves contain other
! valuable autographs, and many of them
are filled with marks and footnotes- In the
poets own handwriting. 80 ss-t
1t is impossible TO forget that. Whittier
was the High Priest Of the Anti-Sia-
very party" and a visit TO his home re-
| minds one forcfbly Of the fact. yet not in
such a manner that the most loyal south
erner may take umbrage.
The writer felt a bit uncomfortable on
| Iy at the manner in. which our fair guide
| handled the word rebels in relating the
| story of Barbara Frietchie, and dis
| playing some relics of that famous and
warlike dame. Besides. 1t seemed weigh
| ty responsibility to be. apparently, the
| only southerner who had ever registered
in the visitors book: kept in the small
| room back of the library.
| ftr-- - sse THE GARDEN.
Still further back, on entering the sun
ny little chamber. called by Whittier, the
garden room, 4" one almost expected to see
the poet himself, seated at the ink-stained
| table facing the window, and command
| ing a view of that thoroughly typical. old
fashioned plot of ground in the rear.
+, The same gnarled apple trees still shade
the deep, rich grass OF Whittier garden.
| and the dear old flower beds still haunt
| their fragrant riot of gaudy blossoms;
there are stately hollyhocks. luxuriant
masses of phlox and marigolds, the scar
let flame of peoples and peonies, and the
tender, lingering perfume OF sweet peas
| and mignonette.
I sat for a few moments land with
somewhat strange sensations) on the very
bench where doubtless, the poet and
| Charles Sumner often sat and planned
measures that, were to be an important
influence in the problem OF emancipation,
and the future of the south.
1t was in this same garden, many years
| later. that the whole Of .Amesbury assem-
bled, to pay a, last tribute Of respect and
| sorrow to one who had been not only the
distinguished poet but the dear and hon.
ored friend of every one Of them.
A large photograph of Whittier's flu
neral, which is to be found in the gard
en- room, Is an extraordinary product of
| the camera. The face of each and every
mourner stands out distinctly, with an ex-
preston of almost startling grief. AS
proof of the esteem In which Whittier
was held by his fellow-townsmen, no more
vivid a testimonial could be desired.
NEW ENGLAND TROLLEY TRIPS
The unnumbered long and delightful
trips that are to be had on the ''electrics,'
at small expense and with great pleasure
and profit, are a distinct feature Of sum-
mer life in New England.
With Portsmouth, N. H. as a center,
one may take excursions into Maine on
the one side. and Massachusetts, on the
other. and visit several towns and sum-
mer resorts in the course OF an afternoon.
Nothing strikes a southerner more forci-
bly, than the ''closeness of every place TO
every place else"
on the day when we visited Whittier's
home. il was no difficult afternoons work
to Journey first to Newburyport, then by
trolley to Amesbury-passing on the way,
Harriet Prescott Spoffords home. beau
tifulIy situated on the river, and after
wards to Salisbury Beach-that "Coney
Island Of the New England states.
Back again by trolley we changed cars
at a half drowned village called Smith
town where we swan. with what courage
could be mustered. into the vestibule Of
little church to take refuge from the rain.
When we had reached Hampton Beach,
however. the storm was past. and this
favorite spot. under the silver radiance
of an early moon. was at its loveliest.
The time worn crags of Great Bears
Head and Little Bears Head" shone in
~ rw~fr4 Nfrrfaf Of