Year: 1872

Twas out on the platform in moment
with the rest of the human packages,
staring curiously up and down the
QUAINT old town, which strikes one,
at first sight, as comfortably taking
its ease and the world at large in a
peaceful, Rip Van Winkle sort of at
mosphere. Melrose, however, is only
seven miles from Boston, and, despite
the air of serene respectability with
which it confronts a stranger, must
come in for its share in the seasoning
of Attic salt and no doubt, get to the
heart of it, is well tinctured with
beresies and radicalism. 1t was the
late afternoon of one of those June
days Lowellsings aboutso felicitously
when l made my way through the
shadows of the pleasant, dreamy old
street, TO the home across whose
threshold l was now to pass tor the
first time. A soft poetic Sunshine
was on leaves and flowers, there were
bushes of winds among locusts and
naples, and the sweet twitter of the
robins through the stiffness, when l
found myself at the house where l
was to pass the night. A quiet, un-
pretending New England home stood
before me, finished up in browns,
even to the blinds; veranda across
the front, and June roses in very
glee and riot of blossoming; the ex-
treme simplicity OF the whole in fine
harmony with the old town and the
shsdowy street, even though the pre-
siding divinity here was the strong,
earnest, intent soul of Mary A. Liy-
elmore. 1 may as well say At this
point, that, measured by hours and
interviews, we we're almost strangers
to each other. A brief meeting or
two, letter sent rue when the heart
OF the writer was at whitehead with
the work and the glory Of the Chicago
Sanitary Fair, comprised our person.
al acquaintance {; yet despite this fact,
was certain that hostess and guest
would meet tonight not as strangers
do, II one does not feel at home
with the first glance at the house, one
is certain to the moment he is across
the threshold.


The parlor which received me was
q place to dream in for day, with
pictures and engravjngs and pretty
brackets, that gave color and grace a
certain artistic effect to the whole
room while thst subtitle charm of a
real home atmosphere brooded over
all. had expected to find in Mrs.
Livermore good houskeeper; indeed
when l come to think OF it, never
knew a literary woman, in the highest
sense of that word, who did not
prove herself in her own home capa-
BILE domestic ''mansger; and, having
been in more than one of these homes,
I am, despite the traditional blue
stocking. entitled to speak &c eathedra
on this matter. My own room too,
when l went into it, proved the very
.spink essence of order and comfort,
with pictures and brackets again, and
delicate little artistic touches every
where. l sat down by the window,
too content for anything but watching
the sunshine in the cherry and locust
trees outside, and waited, but not
long. There was rap at the door,
no soft, appealing flutter Of fingers,
but prompt, strong, decisive; and,
getting up, ] confronted Mrs. Liver
more. She was tall, dignifed, mat.
ronly presence an earnest, intent,
attractive face, with smile that comes
suddenly and breaks up the gravity
with a sweet archness, with q voice
full of a clear, ringing helpfulness
and decision; and the more you see
of her, the more you grow into sense
of her reserve force and ber wonder
full magnetic power, and comprehend
what shrewd physician meant wher
he said, "The Lord made you up


Mrs. Livermore, TO do q big job Of
work in this world.' 81 should have
come to you at once,' she said with


her cordial warmth of speech ani
manner "but my husbands conere
cation at bingham gave us q recep


ton yesterday, and this morning


was obliged to take the six o'clocl


train into Boston to see to getting


out of the paper: 30, when learned


you were coming, / primed mysel


with couple of hours sleep" W,


took our supper alone together tha


night. A silver goblet stood at m,


plate; and, when l had taken N,


first draught, Mrs. Livermore remark


ed "That goblet was given me by tn


soldiers at the Chicago Sanitary Fair


Perhaps was unusually thirsty tina


night; at any rate, it seemed to ms


as / drained the goblet, that no wa


ter had ever tasted so sweet. Th


silver was simple enough, with il


chasing and Latin inscriptions; bu


it spoke to me of weary journey


through days and nights, in 'smud
spankers, . over the wide, lonely plain
OF the Northwest; of burdens, unde


which strong man might well hav


faltered, borne with calm unflinchin
, courage; of wounded men in drear


hospitals, starting at the sound of th