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THE GORDON LESTER FORD
COLLECTION
FROM EMILY E. F. SKEEL
IN MEMORY OF
ROSWELL SKEEL, Jr.
AND THEIR FOUR PARENTS
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Ha I 'e
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LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
THE* NEW YORK
PUBLIC LIBRART
ASTOB, LENOX AND
HLDEN FOUNDATIONS
It L
Susan Hale and Edward Everett Hale
From a daguerreotype taken about 1855
LETTERS
OF SUSAN HALE
Edited by
CAROLINE P. ATKINSON
Introduction by
EDWARD E. HALE
BOSTON
MARSHALL JONES COMPANY
MDCCCCXXI
260750B
ASTOK. I X AND
TILDEN I NS
R 194? L
COPYRIGHT-I9I8
BY MARSHALL JONES COMPANY
All rights reserved
First Printing, December, 1918
Second Printing, April, 1919
Third Printing, September, 1920
IHE'FLIUPION'FSESS
N O KWOOD'MAS S-U'S«A
PREFACE
THOSE of us, of a younger generation, who were
privileged to know Susan Hale intimately, have
felt eager to have her letters published, in order that
a larger number of persons might share with us the
delight of her wit and vivacity, and her never-ceasing
good spirits.
She was the best of company, and we who sat on
her piazza at Matunuck, listening to her brilliant
conversation on men, books and travel, or to her
inimitable stories ; and others who had the good for-
tune to travel with her, all bear witness to never
having spent a dull hour in her company.
It was a liberal education to be with her, for she
always inspired the young people about her to care
for the best things.
She read a great deal, and in addition to a fine
library of old books, she kept up with the best new
ones, and her tables were always liberally strewn
with current literature in English, French, Italian
and German — all of which she read in the original,
being a fine linguist, and discussed in a most dis-
cerning and appreciative way.
She loved the great outdoors, and used to put on
a short skirt, arrange her hair in a "pig-tail," don
a tam-o'-shanter, and lead the young people off over
hills, through woods, and along the shores of the
ponds, stopping to pick wild flowers by the way, and
often bringing a specimen home to dissect and analyze
with the help of "Gray's Botany." On brilliant
star-light nights she taught us about the planets and
vi PKEFACE
constellations. One could not be with her and not
catch her enthusiasm or cultivate a taste in things
worth while.
She was physically very strong, and the striking
thing in her later years, when she had to meet illness,
a surgical operation and deafness, which increased
rapidly, was her great courage, her capacity to hold
her head high and take whatever came to her with
cheerful resignation; her sense of humour and her
pluck carrying her through very trying times. Even
in the few months between the paralytic stroke,
which came to her in May, and her death in Sep-
tember, 1910, was this particularly noticeable.
She was a prolific letter-writer, and her letters
were so entertaining that they were seldom destroyed.
So, out of an abundance of material, I have selected
these that make this volume, with many regrets at
having to leave out a large number that would have
been of interest. It has been a delightful task, and
if the result gives to the reader a small part of the
enjoyment I have had in preparing the book, I shall
be well satisfied.
Caeoline P. Atkinson.
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September, 1918.
INTRODUCTION
ONE can rarely give in a few words any true
impression of a long life. Susan Hale was al-
most seventy-seven when she died, and most of those
now living remember her as she was in the latter
half of her life, — the mistress of Matunuck in the
summer, the unwearied traveller in the winter. But
before she had settled into the life most characteris-
tic of her later years, she was a very different as well
as a very individual and brilliant personality. As
a girl in the family circle at Brookline, and later as
a woman in the Boston society of the seventies, she
was a very distinct character. The following lines
can give only a little concerning her life in those and
later years which will enable people to read with
some comprehension the letters now published.
Yet certain things were permanent with her. As
she grew older, her most striking characteristic was
probably a very great sympathy, which enabled her to
make many intimate friends. Particularly was this
the case with young people, who used to feel about
her much as though she were one of themselves, called
her Susan, and talked to her on their own current
interests without often realising that she really be-
longed to an earlier generation. In that generation,
however, her chief quality had been something quite
different, chiefly a certain gift of brilliant cleverness
in thought and expression which made her a note-
worthy person among her contemporaries.
If one called her a " woman of the world" — in
the broadest and best sense — one might include both
viii INTRODUCTION
these phases. Susan certainly did know the world
pretty well, both the particular world of America,
Boston, Matunuck, where she was intimate, and the
larger world about which she so constantly travelled.
And a person remembering her in some such way
would doubtless have the general impression which
Susan Hale made on her generation, as far as it
knew her.
But even with all correction, — clever girl, bril-
liant woman, sympathetic friend, appreciative trav-
eller, such a view would be only superficial. In all
Susan's cleverness and brilliancy there was a con-
stant emotional self-restraint not unusual in the sev-
enties and eighties; in her invariable sympathy and
interest in others there was a frequent reserve. The
real Susan did not often emerge from the veil. When
she did one remembered it, but rarely comprehended
it entirely. Her conversation was apparently quite
genuine and sincere, and so it was actually, with the
reservation that though what she said she really felt
and thought, yet she never said all she felt and
thought. In this respect her letters have rather
more of her real self than even her personal talk had,
at least to a reader who can get at it. This is one of
the secrets of writing — that it is often more truly,
even if unconsciously, self-expressive than conver-
sation.
There was also a certain quaintness, not unper-
ceived, in the more personal part of Susan's charac-
ter. She was very fond of cats, as many others are,
but it was more individual that she should invent and
develop an especial " cat language " with which to
talk to them. She often went about singing to her-
self, as many people do, but it was her own specialty
to invent " morning-songs ' ' and sing them to herself
at breakfast. She also invented names for people
and places, but it is not common for such names to
INTRODUCTION ix
be picked up and used by everybody without thought.
These things and many others were individual and
quaint and belonged to her. It is hard to say just
what was the real Susan, but I think the most real
was Susan by herself at Matunuck in the fall after
the summer life and gaiety had vanished away, and
the summer splendours had passed into the soft-toned
and moderated autumn, and the country-side had a
certain " tristesse," as she liked to call it. Then she
would swim in the pond in the early morning, break-
fast on the piazza, write her letters till mail time,
stroll about the hill with the current cat, Geronimo, or
some other, talk with Louisa or Mr. Franklin or Mr.
Browning, sit in the south window or on the piazza
and darn stockings over a sort of small gourd, or else
read the Sun, make a fire in the evening and read
a novel out of which she had torn the illustrations,
and go to bed at about eight, humming the most suc-
cessful morning-song of the week. Nor was all this
a matter merely of the moment or of the outside. It
involved a criticism of life, — a constant valuation
of what the world was and a constant expression of
what one was oneself. That, too, I fancy, comes out
in her letters. One may not always get it — and
perhaps an editor should point it out more clearly —
but probably most readers will get at it more or less,
and that is all one could expect at the very best.
Susan Hale was born December 5, 1833, at 6
Hamilton Place, Boston, the youngest of the eight
children of Nathan Hale and Sarah Preston Everett.
Of these the four oldest, Sarah, Lucretia, Nathan
and Edward, constituted rather a compact group
("we four") as the oldest children now almost
grown up. They with their friends made an interest-
ing and brilliant group that Susan "was somewhat too
young to join. She belonged to the younger four;
but her sister Jane died early and Sarah some years
x INTKODUCTION
afterward, so that as she grew up Susan was natu-
rally thrown largely with her older sister, Lucretia.
Not much can he said here of those earlier years ; she
soon began to learn to draw and to paint, and as the
material fortunes of the family somewhat failed on
the illness of her father, she soon began to teach
school. The family lived in Boston ; her father and
her brothers Nathan and Charles successively were
editors of the Boston Daily Advertiser. Her brother,
Edward, after 1856 was minister of the South Con-
gregational Church. About 1860 the family moved
to Brookline, where in 1862 her father died, and in
1865 her mother.
Susan was at this time thirty-two years of age, and
had long been the youngest member of a large and
able family. She was able herself, but so far she
had never had a really independent opportunity to
see what she could do if she had to, or what she would
do if she could. Nor did such an opportunity at
once arise. In 1867 the general family group being
practically broken up, she and Lucretia went abroad,
specifically to Egypt, where Charles was Consul Gen-
eral of the United States.
On her return from abroad it would seem that
Susan made up her mind that she had better carry on
her life herself instead of letting it be arranged for
her by brothers and sisters and family circumstances.
She therefore took rooms at 91 Boylston Street and
began, or rather continued, to have classes. This she
did for several years, but as she went on she became
more and more interested in painting. She had al-
ways had ability in this art, as had also others of the
family, but she had never had particular teaching.
She now resolved to get the best teaching in water-
colours that she could, and for this purpose went abroad
again in 1872. I cannot say just who were her mas-
ters ; the only two whom I recall her mentioning were
LNTKODUCTION xi
Copley Fielding and Henri Harpignies, but I do not
think she studied much with either of them. She
spent the winter of 1872-1873 in Paris and at
Weimar.
In 1873 she came back to Boston and began a very
characteristic and interesting period of her life. She
again took rooms, I am not sure where at first, but
soon at 64 Boylston Street, where the Art Club had
at that time established itself. Here she began
classes in water-colours, which gave her a regular
occupation, but she also developed other things to do,
sometimes of an original character. She did, in
time, a good many books and wrote a good many let-
ters of travel for the papers. She began to have
afternoon classes of ladies not only in Boston but else-
where, to whom she talked or read. The one that in-
terested her most was on the novelists of the eight-
eenth century. I cannot say when she began to read
to Mr. William Amory, but when I first began to fre-
quent her rooms in the late seventies, it was her habit
to go across the Common every afternoon to read to
him for a couple of hours. She also used to go in the
evening to read to Mr. T. G. Appleton, and these
regular engagements together with her morning
classes made for a number of years the backbone of
her winter occupation. I do not know just what she
used to read to them, but I feel pretty sure that Mr.
Appleton at least liked her to talk rather than to
read. She used often to go over to Mr. Appleton's
for dinner, and as one was a wit and the other a
humourist, it is not likely that they spent all their
time in reading, even so interesting a book as Gib-
bon's " Decline and Fall."
I do not remember when Susan first came to
Matunuck. During the first ten years of our family
life there, there was much visiting on the part of
Uncle Charles and Aunt Lucretia and, I have no
xii INTKODUCTION
doubt, of Susan as well. She was never at Matu-
nuck, however, in those earlier years, for any long
period. She was much more likely to go for six or
eight weeks to such a place as York, Owl's Head,
Ogunquit, or somewhere else along the North Shore.
Matunuck she never considered an interesting place
for painting. My sister was, about this time, study-
ing with Miss Knowlton, the teaching representa-
tive, as one may say, of William M. Hunt. She and
her friends liked Matunuck because of its figure-
elements, the ox-teams of that day gathering sea-
weed, the boys in broad-brimmed straw hats and
blue flannel shirts, which lent themselves to the gen-
eral Millet-Couture sentiment which they felt. But
Susan was not interested in this sort of thing and did
not often paint at Matunuck. She liked the Maine
coast better and wanted generally to spend a good
deal of time wherever she was going to paint. She
used to say that there was no use trying to paint till
you had been in a place for a fortnight or so, getting
to know it. So her first days in a place she used to
spend walking about and after that she would paint
pretty regularly. In the fall she would bring back
a number of water-colours, and have an exhibition
at the Art Club, and then begin teaching for the
winter.
In 1883, however, she came to Matunuck in a new
capacity, namely, that of housekeeper. My father
and mother had that year been called to Paris by the
illness of my sister and remained abroad all summer.
Susan came out to 39 Highland Street to take care of
the family — at this time consisting of the four
younger boys. With them she went to Matunuck to
open the house and ran the establishment until my
father and mother came home. It was, perhaps,
first this summer that she really became charmed
with the place. At any rate, two years after-
INTRODUCTION xiii
ward an arrangement was made by which she as-
sumed charge of the house at Matunuck for the
summer. It had been built in 1873 for my father
by William B. Weeden, whose place at Willow Dell
was just across the road. In the first ten years my
father and mother and the rest of us came down
regularly and spent the whole summer there. But
the housekeeping of those days was rather difficult, so
that my mother always got pretty well tired out, and
really disliked leaving her large, comfortable, and
generally cool house in Roxbury, to go to Matunuck,
which was beautiful, but not so attractive for those
who did not care for bathing and boating and wood-
walking, as for those who did. However it was, by
the summer of 1885 it was practically settled that
Susan was to be the mistress at Matunuck, and she
rather rearranged her life on this basis. Instead of
spending the winter at work in Boston and the sum-
mer travelling about, she began to spend the summer
at Matunuck while she travelled in the winter. She
got in the habit of coming down earlier in the spring
and staying longer in the fall. When she got into the
habit of travelling in the winter, she began to give
up the idea of having a home in Boston. She had
for a long time lived in the Art Club building.
When the Club rearranged the house, she moved to
other apartments in Boylston Street. But after she
had been at Matunuck a few summers, she regularly
moved her things down there, and after that she only
stayed in Boston for a longer or shorter time between
Matunuck and some winter trip, or in the spring
before going to Matunuck for the summer.
Travelling was one of the things she liked best.
She was very fond of her particular home at any
given time, but she also liked to travel. Her first
real journey was to Egypt; a few years afterward
she spent a year or so abroad. In 1885 and 1886 she
xiv INTKODUCTION
went to Mexico with F. E. Church and his family,
who were among her best friends. The next year
she went to Spain with Mr. John Johnston and his
sister; in 1891 she made a European trip with Miss
Susan Bay; in 1892 and again in 1893 she went to
California; in 1894 to Europe with Mrs. Church;
in 1896 to Algiers by herself, though later she joined
Mrs. William Weld in Sicily. In 1899 she went to
California with Mrs. Weld, and again, in 1901, with
her to Mexico. In 1902 she went to Europe with
Miss Ethel Damon. In 1903, 1904, 1905 she spent
the winter in Jamaica. In 1905 she was in Egypt;
in 1906 in Jamaica again ; in 1907 in Cannes. The
winters of 1908 and 1909 she spent in Washington
and Pass Christian, and the last winter of her life,
1910, in Cannes. But every summer she was at
Matunuck.
Susan at Matunuck is to those who knew her there
her most characteristic phase. She loved the place
and its people, and was never so much at home as
when there. At first she plunged actively into the
outdoor life ; she was a capital swimmer and always
wanted a swim in the pond before breakfast, and
generally a sea-bath, too, while she also loved to
traverse the wood-paths, which in those days led in
all directions among the ponds. She liked to take
a canoe with one of the boys, and to carry across
from pond to pond until they had made a circuit
of the hill-country. As she grew older she cared less
for this active outdoor life, but devised another more
suited to the energies of a woman of fifty or sixty.
She would breakfast on the piazza when she was
alone ; it was not too far from the road to hear some-
one driving by explain to a friend, "No, she ain't
crazy, but she eats outdoors." After breakfast she
went about the house or retired to her " rat's-nest "
and wrote letters till the mail-man came. Then it
INTRODUCTION xv
was time to drive to the beach, which generally took
up the rest of the morning. In the afternoon she
took to the east piazza about four o'clock, where in
time the neighbourhood accustomed itself to come for
afternoon tea. She often went off for a stroll in the
late afternoon, and after supper finished the day by
a short time on the front piazza, where, on clear
nights, one had a wonderful stretch of sea and light-
house and horizon. She went to bed very early in the
summer, — at eight or half -past. If there were
people about she would go away as though to attend
to something and not come back.
She early formed intimate relations with the people
around, particularly with those who "did for' her,
as the phrase is. Mrs. Perry was the first of these, but
when she moved away up the Perryville road she could
not continue " doing. " Susan then took up with Louisa
Sebastian, a big coloured woman with something of
a following, and for many years Louisa was her cook,
and as far as she had any, her manager. Mr. Frank-
lin and George Jones, both coloured, used to be
around a good deal cutting wood and doing odd jobs.
She got horses of Robert Browning, to whom she
was much attracted by his singular strain of almost
saturnine humour. She encouraged all the country
to come round in carts and bring her food; she al-
ways got something and always had conversations
with them. The chief of these visitors were Mrs.
Tucker and Peth Bradley.
My father always came to Matunuck as much as
he could in the summer, though toward the end of
his life he used sometimes to go elsewhere. My
mother, however, did not come so much. Susan,
therefore, had a good deal of room, for the house was
large, and she got into the habit of having a good
many visitors, generally young people, — her own
friends and her nephews'. In this way grew up at
xvi INTRODUCTION
Matunuck in the late eighties and the nineties a
group of young people with all of whom Susan was
intimate. She was commonly called Susan by them,
and, indeed, by almost everyone else.
Although extremely original and natural in what
she said and did, Susan, like most other people, was
not able to express herself fully in the current forms
to which we are all used. She painted a good deal,
and for a number of years was immensely interested
in her landscapes, yet no one who knew her could
fancy that her landscapes gave much real idea of her
gay vitality and her shrewd quaintness. She wrote
a good deal in various ways, — sometimes travel-
letters to the papers, sometimes books, — but though
there was a good deal of herself in these, they never
impressed people as she did herself. Possibly she
could have arrived at a truer self-expression by being
an actress than in any other way. She was always
wonderful in extempore theatricals or in the mono-
logues which she arranged for herself like " The
Elixir of Youth " or " The Female Fool." But even
had it proved that she could best express her mer-
curial personality on the stage, it i3 doubtful whether
6he could have done so by the usual and natural
course of presenting or creating the characters con-
ceived by others. She would have been a great figure
in the popular extempore stage of the Italians.
In the way of letters, however, she did find a means
of expression. She was educated at a time when
long letters were more common than they are to-day.
All the family wrote letters, and according to the
custom of the time they were pretty long ones. In
the days before envelopes and stamps it was the cus-
tom to use double sheets of quarto size, and if one
used such a sheet and paid five or ten cents for post-
age, it was natural to write enough to fill the sheet.
So she early got used to writing letters and soon
INTKODUCTICM xvii
adopted letter-writing as an easy and natural mode
of expression. Her letters were very like her con-
versation; they were free and familiar, full of her
usual ways of thought and expression, giving her
characteristic ideas and point of view. They had not
so much of her surprising extempore humour as her
talk, but they came nearer being a full self-expression
than anything else.
Edward E. Hale.
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. Early life in Boston and Brookline (1848-
1867) 1
II. Trip to Egypt and the Holy Land with
Miss Lucretia P. Hale to visit their
brother, Charles Hale, Consul General
in Egypt (1867-1868) 22
III. Teaching school in Boston (1871-1872) . 61
IV. Studying art in Europe — Accompanied
by the Misses Bursley and Miss Harriet
James, afterwards Mrs. John C. Ban-
croft (1872-1873) 82
V. A summer in Europe with Rev. Edward
E. Hale, his daughter, Miss Ellen Day
Hale, and Miss Mary Marquand, 1882 —
Visit to Frederick E. Church, the
painter, at his home on the Hudson
Eiver, in 1884 — Trip to Mexico with
Mr. and Mrs. Church in 1885 — Sum-
mer at Matunuck, 1885 — Mexico again
in 1886, with Mr. and Mrs. Church,
their daughter, and Charles Dudley War-
ner 128
VI. Summer at Matunuck, 1886 — Winter in
Paris with her nephew, Philip L. Hale
— Spring in Spain, 1887 — Matunuck,
1887 — Matunuck again, 1888 .... 167
VII. Readings in Chicago, Washington, and New
York — Trip on yacht " Gitana " with
Mr. and Mrs. William F. Weld — Sum-
mer at Matunuck — Another winter of
lectures and readings, 1890 (1888-1890) 200
xx CONTENTS
Chapter Page
VIII. Summer at Matumick, 1890 — " The Elixir
of Youth" at Olana — Trip to Europe
with Miss Susan Day, 1891 — Winter in
California giving readings, 1892 — Mat-
unuck, 1892 — Out West again .... 242
IX. Matunuck, New York, the West, Europe
(1893-1897) 281
X. Boston, New York, California, Madeira,
Matunuck (1898-1902) 327
XL Jamaica, Matunuck, Egypt (1902-1905) . 372
XII. Last years (1906-1910) 408
Index 473
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Susan Hale and Edward Everett Hale Frontispiece
opp. page
Susan Hale, about 1865 232
Susan Hale at Matunuck, 1908 440
LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
LETTERS OF SUSAN
HALE
CHAPTEE I
EAELY LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOEXINE
(1848-1867)
To Alexander Hale
[Boston], November 1, 18£8.
dear elly, — You will be perhaps surprised to
hear that I began this afternoon to take drawing les-
sons in a second-story front room in at Bachi's! of
Mr. Fette (or Phetti) ! It is quite a remarkable
tale and runs as follows:
Once upon a time, some three weeks ago, I was
sitting at the window of the parlour, when happening
to look up, I descried in the aforesaid second-story
front room of Bachi's, Anne and Ellen Frothingham,
and Mary Ann Wales, diligently engaged with cray-
ons, drawing-books, etc. Imagine my surprise ! We
opened our respective windows and by means of
shrieking across, I discovered that they were taking
drawing-lessons of Mr. Fette, with a Mrs. Ball, in
whose room (Mrs. Ball's) the lessons were given.
Also especially, they asked would not I join them,
they wanted another. So after a great deal of nego-
tiation the affair was decided, and I began this
afternoon to go. The lessons were Wednesday and
Saturday afternoons from three-fifteen to four-fif-
2 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
teen. I began to draw a head, the same one, if you
remember, that Liddy Everett drew, under the in-
struction of Mr. F. I sketched it in charcoal, a thing
which I never did before. Mr. Fette remarked, " I
hope, Miss Hale, that you will like drawing in char-
coal better than your brother Alexander did! ' This
was the first mention of you between us. I suppose
he discovered the relationship by the name — per-
haps by the resemblance.
Last Monday evening the grand Taylor torch-
light procession took place. We had an invitation
to Mrs. Frothingham's, next to Uncle Edward's 1 old
house in Summer Street. It was a nice place to see
as there is a large balcony in front of the house and
the procession passed directly by it. Charlotte with
Marianne and Lucy Everett (who is staying at Cam-
bridge) came in and T'd with us, and we set forth
together, some in a carriage and some on foot, to the
Frothingham's. The carriages arrived first, and
when the walking party (of which I was a member)
got to the door, the door-bell was broken. Fullum2
went round to the back door to effect an entrance, but
while he was gone, Tom Frothingham, returning
from his evening airing, with a pass-key let us in.
After waiting some time in the parlours, where were
Pa F., Ma F., Edward, Tom F., Anne and Ellen F.,
Charlotte, Marianne, Lucy and Eddy Everett, Mari-
anne Wales, a Miss Emmons, Harriet Davis, Sarah,
Lucretia, and I, the procession was heard and we
rushed to the piazza. It was a splendid procession,
to which the Free-Soil Torch-light of last Wednesday
was a miserable small "sizzle." Ours took half an
hour to pass, with torches four, sometimes six,
abreast, whereas the Free-Soil took ten minutes, " at
1 Edward Everett.
3 An old servant who lived for many years with the Hale
family.
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BKOOKLINE 3
the longest, count slowly (while ours ran),77 torches
two, sometimes none, abreast. Ours had a great many
of those Bengal lights, which the processioners hold
in their hands and which send forth brilliant stars,
one by one ascending to a great height. A house a
few doors below the F.'s sent off rockets constantly,
and a house opposite was brilliantly illuminated. We
descried Little Alexander, very energetic as a mar-
shal, in the Cambridge department, which was large
and brilliant. There were innumerable transparen-
cies with devices like this, which was
called, " The old fox with a new tail "
and was named Martin Van Buren,
and majestic looking men with very
long noses, called Zachary Taylor. The Taylor Light
Guards had little U. S. A. flags, stars and stripes at-
tached to their torch-sticks, and occasionally sang
together Whig songs.
(I here stop to turn the cat, who is roasting be-
fore the fire, and who though she has not quite sense
enough to move when she gets too hot, is yet able to
" mullagatorny " for me to come and turn her.)
Mr. Winthrop's house as well as many others was
brilliantly illuminated the torch-light night. Among
others, Mrs. Judge Story, of all other people, illumi-
nated from the garret to cellar ! She is very enthu-
siastic about the election, and furious against Charles
Sumner for being Free-Soil. But not another word
of politics in this letter! Good-bye from
Your affectionate third sister,
Susie.
To Alexander Hale
September 2, 184-9.
dear elly, — It is decided that I go to school this
winter, and the fatal note has been written to Mr.
4 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Emerson, to see if he will take me. After my long
absence from the seminary, I am not violently eager
to return, but the cries of neglected education are
loud, so go I must. In the course of a month or two,
I shall be competent to open a correspondence with
you on the history of the ancient Gauls or some such
ancient fogies, in any language you please, either
ancient or modern Greek, Latin, Italian, German,
Spanish, Hebrew or French. . . . Good-bye from
your sister
Sub.
To Alexander Hale
Sunday evening, October H, 184,9.
dear elly, — I am now fairly launched on the sea
of education, or school. I go daily from nine till two.
You may be interested in knowing my course of
study. In the first place, I write an abstract every
Sunday of the sermon of Sunday morning. This is
for Monday morning's lesson. At school I learn a
lesson from " Viri Romae " and recite in Colburn's
"Mental Arithmetic." I don't study the lessons in
this latter branch, but we are supposed to know it by
intuition, and every day are plied with it by Mr.
Emerson. We get up and down in this class. I vary,
being sometimes within three of the head, occasion-
ally, though rarely, equally near the foot, of the class.
We learn an evening lesson in zoology for every day
but Monday and Saturday. The book is Agassiz and
Gould's " Zoology " and treats of diverse subjects re-
ferring to the animal kingdom — such as the verte-
brate animals, mollusks, mammals, etc., and if you
were here I could logically expound to you that man,
as well as many other vertebrate animals, is possessed
of a carpus and a metacarpus, also a tarsus and a
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOKLINE 5
metatarsus. This highly instructive and interesting
work is rep]ete with pictures of this nature (a) also
ones like this (b).
I study " Viri Ro-
raae' every day but
■*- Friday and Saturday.
(a) Friday is French *>
day, and then I study a French translation book
called Bonnechose's " History of France," and next
week I am to begin in Ollendorff Exercises. Satur-
day we learn poetry, and as soon as we have recited
that, we are at liberty to go home, so that yesterday
I got home before eleven. Other days I do not get
home till after two sometimes. Professor Gould
comes several times a week to give us lectures, and
explain what we have gone over in zoology, and brings
with him in a bundle monkeys' skulls, and Polypi,
a marine animal. . . .
There are about seventy scholars in the school, and
three assistant teachers. Gam. Bradford's sister,
Fanny Bradford, is one of the teachers. Each as-
sistant has a little room of her own, and when I re-
cite to an assistant I am closeted with her in one of
said little rooms. . . .
Your affectionate sister,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
[Boston], Sunday evening, October £6, 1851.
Oh ! faithless Lucretia ! that don't come home when
we wish yer. (Observe the rhyme, please.) We
haven't so far disowned you as to refuse to write.
Indeed, considering the many palliating circum-
stances, we have concluded to receive you with open
arms on Tuesday. . . .
Yesterday was off-Saturday, which was celebrated
6 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
by great festivities consisting of the manufacture of
mothers bonnet — a regular bonnet-on-ation, which
is the nearest allowable to a coronation in this Re-
publican country. How can I tell how the frame
was got — a love of the first water, and the silk
ironed out, and all the materials prepared by mother
the day previous, — or how constantly the scissors
got lost, and the pins out of the way, and the silk
knotted, or the frame wobbled round on my knee ?
All of which are preliminaries — for at about two,
after a splendid morning interrupted by no incur-
sions of Jewetts, Willies, Hannah Dexters, or ac-
counts, The Bonnet completed, burst on the ad-
miring crowd, consisting of Mama, rivalling in its
glories of frill, crape, crown, etc., the whole combined
attraction of " White's Grand Fall Opening of more
than 10,000 Paris Hats " as advertised in the lead-
ing journals. Mother appeared in it this morning
at church, at which the congregation, led by Deacon
Grant, rose and gave three cheers, after which the
new sexton opened all the windows, and ex-sexton
Beals immediately closed them again. We then pro-
ceeded with the usual services. . . .
Two tickets to Miss Hayes's farewell concert to-
night lie in the dish mixed with a crowd of Herr
Kist's, and such like, — but no Peabody boy has been
summoned, no Frank, no Oily, no Willie, — nor have
I put on my long sleeves. While Sunday night was
still far off, I used to think I should go, but when
it came to the point in hand, I somehow did n't. . . .
Your affex. sister,
Susie.
To Nathan Hale
Tuesday evening, November *21, 18 5^
dear nathan, — I am so busy all the time now
that I don't often write to you; but moved by your
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BBOOKLINE 7
pathetic allusions in your nice letter of to-day to
Mama, I am going to snatch a few leisure moments
this evening to pick up a bead or two from the shat-
tered string of our correspondence. Is not this a
felicitous " hyperbole " for the beginning ? Tell Ed-
ward that — No ! on the whole you need n't tell him.
Perhaps it would be more satisfactory to you to know
how I am busy, and I will tell you what happens
through the day. Get up in the morning, which as
you know as well as I, is easier said than done —
Oh ! how bitter it is to hear the dreadful running
noise of " Chit " in the bath-tub, the first sound that
wakens me in the morning, and to know that if I
don't pitch out and take my bath forthwith, Lucretia
won't have time to take hers before the breakfast bell !
We generally get at breakfast at eight o'clock, and by
a well-organised hard-scrabble, Luc. and I get the
breakfast things washed by nine o'clock. All the
time we are doing this the door-bell keeps ringing and
we hear little boys tumbling upstairs to the " School-
room," alas ! inglorious term, by which the Upper-
Study is now known. When it is nine I rush up to
the scene of action, and generally find the pupils all
by the ears ; Inman Barnard weeping because his
sister has left him, and he wants to go home; some
new article of furniture broken, and the sofa-cover-
ing torn in a new place. Order being restored we
proceed to ceremonies : there are eleven little victims
now, when they all come; and next week I am to
have another. The children stay until twelve, and
during that time " act as bad as they can," but on
the whole acquire considerable learning, and don't
worrit me much. They being fairly off, Ellen
Wheeler and Mary Chamberlin enter with their Hor-
ace lessons, French Grammar and translations, only
one lesson apiece every day. I am quite done with
them at one o'clock. Then I break loose; and cast-
8 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
ing off the garb and manner of schoolma'am, assume
the character of a young lady in the upper circles, by
putting on my flounced gown and curling my hair.
This leaves a little time before dinner, which is de-
voted to making gowns, such a love of a blue silk
basque as I have just turned out! You should see
it ! and if the Fates allowed a Thanksgiving this year,
you would see it. After dinner the gown-making con-
tinues till four, when it is necessary to go out; for
the afternoons are so short that you can't do your
shopping and visiting and walking for exercise, un-
less you rush out before dinner is fairly out of your
head. Get home from walking about six and till
tea-time at seven, there are miscellaneous exercises
such as cramming a little Horace to be in advance of
the girls, practising duets with Mary Chamberlin,
or, rare treat, a dip into a novel! So sure as I am
seated to this last, however, the tea-bell rings. You
know how the evenings are principally occupied in
oratories, concerts and tea sprees. Anna Loring has
invited Luc. and myself and " the girls " to tea next
Thursday. Don't you think it requires heroism to in-
vite four females at a rush from one house to tea?
" The girls " prove very pleasant. I don't think they
can be described as above or below the standard of
young-lady excellence. This is not to be considered
as a derogatory remark, but to be taken in its simple
meaning. It is usual to describe them as "remark-
ably nice girls." This implies that girls as a general
thing are not " nice." Now according to me, all girls
being good enough for common purposes, so also are
these. Mary Chamberlin sings an excellent second,
and we enjoy a good many singing duets. When
Mary Hall spent Sunday here a week ago, we three
sang catches and rounds to great effect, to the per-
formers, that is ; I 'm afraid it was not so delightful
to the listeners, but then they had the alternative of
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOKLINE 9
not listening. We have got a new novel, as you have
seen by the Daily Advertiser, by the author of " Hen-
pecked Husband." It is very good indeed. The end
is rather hurried up ; each character turns out to have
been changed in his or her cradle ; and all those who
rolled in wealth in the first chapter come to nought
in the last, while on the other hand those who begged
their bread on page first had large chests of lucre left
them on the last page. Barring the peculiarities of
these incidents, the style is natural and pleasant, and
the characters very well drawn. We had a call to-day
fiom Mrs. Otis, the talented author of " The Bar-
clays of Boston." How she did gabble! She asked
to see me of mother, having heard, as she said, that
Miss Susan was " clever," so I was got down ; but my
capacities were not brought to the test, because Mrs.
Otis herself talked all the time, so there was no room
for me to get in a word edgewise ; even supposing I
had anything to say. . . .
I am very much afraid that the cream of my letter,
churned into butter and spread thin over this great
sheet of paper, will be very dry fare ! Give lots of
love to Edward and Emily, and keep lots from your
affectionate sister.
Susie.
To Miss Charlotte Wilson at Keene
November 15, 1855.
J'ai pense, ma chere (de notre sexe la plus belle),
Plusieurs fois depuis le depart de Rachel 1
Que c'est devenu notre devoir de moi et de vous
De soutenir notre Frangais (et nos esprits de plus),
Par un effort brillant a un correspondance
Dans Tesprit de Racine, et le langage de France :
(Prononcez s'il vous plait, toutes ces lignes, et la suite
1 Rachel, the French actress, had lately visited Boston.
10 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Avec l'accent charmant de notre cher Hippolyte.)
Je commence, moi-meme, en vous priant, ma chere
De penser plus a mes sentiments, et moins au Gram-
maire.
Figurez votre amie comme ime fldele (Enone
Qui a vous comme sa Phedre sa cceur abandonne
Mais qui, a la fin, ne se trouve pas, j'espere,
Compellee se lancer au sein de la mer ! —
Dix jours ont passe que je n'ai pas recu
Une lettre d' Annie ; rien aussi de vous.
Chaque matin me trouve accablee de douleurs.
Chaque soir ne fait que de renouveler mes pleur8.
Mais, j'avoue, il faut que j'elance mes courroux
Sur la tete de votre soeur, et non pas sur vous.
Et pourquoi me plaindre ? Je sais vos occupations
Tout entierement a, present l'ouvrage de preparations
Vous travaillez sans cesse, vous n'etes jamais tran-
quille
En arrangeant vos habits, pour aller a la ville
"Que ces vains ornements, que ces voiles vous pesent"
N'est-ce-pas ? J'j pense, et mes couruoux s'appaisent.
Quant a moi, je retrouve enfin ma sante.
Mes jours s'ecoulent avec peu de variete : —
Nos jeunes fllles vont bien; Marie Dinsmoor et moi,
Nous jouons a " coronella " avec beaucoup de Joie.
Elle est vraiment charmante ; bien aimable et gaie.
Elle donnera un autre cliarme aux plaisirs de l'hiver.
Le soir, Lucrece, avec les filles et moi-meme
Jouons souvent le " whist " votre favourite game,
(Excusez, ma chere, cette expression anglaise
A ce moment, je ne puis pas en trouver la frangaise)
Et quoique nous n'avons le societe comme vous
Du Carleton, le beau, nous nous amusons beaucoup !
Ah ! comment pouvez-vous sans peine arracher
Ces liens si doux, ces amities si vrais,
Comme ceux de Carleton et Wheelock ? Charlotte !
Vous trouverez a la ville des flammes plus devotes
LIFE IjSF BOSTON AND BKOOKLINE 11
Plus galants, mieux gantes; mais pensez, ma chere,
Jamais, uon jamais, seront-ils plus sinceres!
Eh bien ! il fait tard ; — et aussi, ma fille,
Ce composition frangais est bien difficile
Je l'avoue, et helas ! je trouve mes idees
Ne s'ecoulent en frangais avec rapidite.
Que je cesse done! Enfin je vous dis Adieu!
Helas ! que de temps f aut passer que ces yeux
Ne vous verront de plus, car 1' inexorable Annie
Est resolue de ne pas aller a N. Y. par ici —
Ecrivez de Keene je vous prie encore une fois
En frangais, en anglais, mais toujours a moi!
Lucrece vous envoye de baisers une douzaine !
Et moi, dix cent milles !
VoTRE AMIE SuSANNE.
To Edward Everett Hale
Appledoee, Sunday evening,, July h, 1858.
dear edward, — Your letter . . . arrived hap-
pily and safely yesterday. . . .
Your remarks with regard to happiness as a means
rather than an end are most valuable, and, as it hap-
pened, most refreshing : for Margaret and I are most
industrious in our ruralizing. If you could but see
our fat Gray's " Manual," our two little " First
Lessons," our microscope and our dissecting knife on
the table, with the wrecks of analysed flowers and
sections of stalks, you would suppose, as the chamber-
maid does, that we came here for the sole purpose of
investigating the flora of the island. You would
think it was not the best place to select for this par-
ticular branch of science, but we find our hands full
with the different varieties. After every walk we
come in with several new specimens to be botanised,
and we are really getting quite skilful. To-day we
12 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
hunted down a mullein, and put him into the Scrophu-
laria Verbascum Thapsus-es with great ease. Also
certain things that we didn't know before we have
traced by the analysis of their parts. Then Margie
is devoted to painting, you know. We go out with
her sketching things and books, and pitch our tents
on a rock where she sketches and lays in her colour
with admirable effect and great skill. The many-
tinted and shadowed rocks are very difficult studies
for colour as well as shading, but capital practice.
I have drawn a good deal. It is very simple sketch-
ing because there are no trees ; and the cliffs on our
island make faultless backgrounds for vistas of dis-
tant mountains, lighthouse, or breakers.
It is the most delightful place and satisfies one's
ideal of an island. Here there can be no stealthy ap-
proach of Philistines, everybody must come on the
high-seas, be spied far off, discussed and settled be-
fore he arrives in the little bay and is rowed to shore,
just before the house. One or two small parties of
gentlemen are here to-day, but very quiet and peace-
ful. I have never passed such a tranquil Fourth.
Indeed I think this serene Sunday has been the quiet-
est day of my life; the loudest noise, the roar of the
breakers on the N. E. shore, and my only conversa-
tion, Margie's and my amicable chat. Is n't it nice ?
Always yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. Nathan Hale
Eye, Thursday, August 28, 1862.
dear mama, — In the first place, the money came
all safe, —
In the second, the photograph of Nan did, with
your nice letter. It 's always splendid to get letters
from your own self, though I 'm always afraid about
LIFE m BOSTON AND BKOOKLINE 13
your poor eye, lest it should get too much tired. It
seemed to act rather like a beast and I'm glad I'm
coming home to see after it myself. . . .
I am enchanted with the life here and could stay
happily another fortnight — but I want to see you
dreadfully, and to get settled at home quietly before
school begins. One thing I shall rejoice at, — my
own bed, — for this husk thing we sleep on is a beast ;
— and only the exhaustion produced by our active
lives could make it tolerable. But I can sleep on
anything, I believe. Another thing grows more
loathsome day by day, and that's the confusion of a
promiscuous table — nobody punctual — nobody ready
to help, — and everybody talking such fool nonsense
as sometimes almost to prevent digestion. But these
are only trifles, only to be mentioned in connection
with the thought of clean table-cloths, and regular
meals, — and Peg's serene (?) administration thereof.
I laughed at reading your wishes for my quiet, for
I was at that moment in the thick of some more
theatricals ! The indefatigable Bartlett had been
getting up some at the Hotel (whatever is got up at
the Hall must be rivalled by the Hotel, you see) —
and at very short notice I agreed to play the " Morn-
ing Call " with him. I studied the part Monday,
the plays were last night. It is a short piece of only
me and Bartlett. Lucretia and the rest know it I
guess, and I 've always wanted to play it ; and it was
a great success they said — your younger daughter
is represented to have looked very handsome. I was
in a great puzzle about my dress, — which should be
a gorgeous morning wrapper, — when lo ! Miss Adam
(in the Bath) offered me a rich robe which Mrs.
Theodore Lyman gave her for theatrical purposes.
It fits me to a T. Sheer white muslin, most elabo-
rately trimmed with brilliant rose and Chine ribbon,
round the bottom of the skirt, and an upper skirt
14 LETTEES OF SUSAN" HALE
open in front. Little cap to match, — the whole thing
very becoming. Mr. Coleman and a dozen people
from the cottages came when they found I was to
act. It was very good fun — better than usual I
think — being so lady-like — I only long to do it
with Follen Cabot, — because he 'd be so much better
than Mr. Bartlett — although he was good. . . .
Love to all, from yrs.,
Susie.
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
Waumbek, July 19 {That's Sunday), 1863.
dear creesh, — Muchly refreshed was I by your
letter this morning, — especially at last to hear
something about the Brookline draft. The papers
are rigorously silent thereupon. Dan D wight ! Curi-
ous that family should be so heavily drawn upon. . . .
But let us leave these scenes, as I did yestermorn,
and, my sister, fly with me down the road to Stillins's,
through the woods and out on the New Gorham Road,
take your right turn, about two miles, till you come
on to the Cherry Mountain Road, and so home across
the meadows and up the hill. About nine miles in
all, and took all the morning, stopping to sketch and
eat raspberries. For if you should wish a short de-
scription of the wood-road by Stillins's, I could give
it to you in one word — viz. : Raspberries. They are
just this minute ripe ; the strawberries being just
this minute gone, but the Rasps are even more tempt-
ing, being less breakback to cull, and such a flavour !
The sun kept coming out, and it kept raining; the
more it shone, the more it rained, — but by the time
I came home it was hot and sultry, and sunny, and
dried up my drabbled skirts for the second or third
time on the excursion. Such a wood-road, narrow
cart-path, grassy, and hung with raspberry bushes.
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOKLINE 15
Israel's River rushing and tumbling alongside, brawl-
ing over the stones, — the ground carpeted with Lin-
naea — (just done blossoming), — little Oxalis, Py-
rola, and all matter of moss and greenness, everything
dripping with recent showers, and so sweet-smelling.
Then when you get out on the meadows, great yellow
lilies nod their heads, quantities of Orchis, Rue, and
Lysimachia, — a lovely broad meadow, with the river
through it and its pretty bridge, belted with woods,
and crowned by Cherry Mountain.
In the afternoon, my legs aching a little, I snoozed
and dressed lazily, arranged my flowers in a big
glass pitcher which dear Ma Plaisted provided me
and Margy with, and carried 'em into the parlour,
where they were, as usual, much admired by " our
little circle." After tea it was so beautiful on the
piazza everybody congregated there for a long time;
we wound up with Psalmody in the parlour. You
will be surprised to learn that Mrs. Thompson and
I are the Choir. She has a very sweet voice, and
plays readily. We have no books, but between us
have thought of all the old things you ever conceived
of; and draw tears (?) from the eyes of the audience
with " Oft in the stilly," " Ave Sanctissima," etc.
Mr. Prothingham (middle-aged gent, here with wife,
I don't know what sort) joined last night, and we
had some very good Brattle Street, etc. — everybody
being thunder-struck at last to find it was nearly
eleven o'clock ! . . . Love to all,
Yrs.,
SlJSE.
To Charles Hale
Brookline, November 10, 1865.
dear ciiarley, — I 've been engaged this week in
a pecunious Jieik; to wit, getting money from the
ladies of the Parish to get a new gown for Dr. Hedge.
16 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
His was stolen out of the vestry last spring, and the
dear little Doctor has ever since been gownless. We
were roused to the occasion by the spur of Dr. Put-
nam's gown being stolen from Roxbury only a fort-
night ago, when immediately his ladies new around
and have already got him a gown. So Lizzie Guild
and I have been agitating the matter. She finds that
" they come very expensive." The silk is seven dol-
lars a yard, and the marm that makes it asks a great
deal, so it will amount to one hundred and seventy-
five dollars. I agreed to raise twenty-five or fifty
dollars, and have been two trips round the big guns
of the parish. I found them all amenable to kind
treatment, and we shall have no trouble; though
many ladies say athey prefer Dr. Hedge without a
gown." Now that is neither here nor there, for it
isn't creditable to have no gown on the premises
whether he wears it or not.
Yours,
Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Friday evening, April 6, 1866.
dear lucretia, — Not to make this too heavy,
I '11 take this brief sheet of paper to say that nothing
at all has happened since you left, except this nice
little scrap from Meggie, through Mrs. Dwight, and
a great fat budget from Charles, with this satisfac-
tory note for you, which being unsealed Mama and
I have read.
Yesterday was lovely and hot to its close, but
people to-day are cursing dreadfully about it. I had
a splendid walk, six miles, nearly roasted.
Saw ... 1 mud-turtle
" ... 1 purple lizard with yellow spots
" ... 2,000 squirrels
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOKLINE 17
Saw
. . 1,100,000 birds
«
. . 1 dead snake
Heard .
. . millions of birds
a
. . 1 phoebe
a
. . 1 bird very rare, name unknown
a
. . 20,000,000 frogs
<i
. . 0 hylas
(I forgot t(
) mention among
Saws .
. . 1 hepatica bud, very small)
Smelt .
. . 1 doz. sk — k cabbages
a
. . No end of good things
Dr. Hedge was excellent this p.m. The audience
spasmodic in efforts at cheerful ease. ... A warm,
very warm rain, all day, no fire in the furnace, —
saves 37% c. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
To Charles Hale
Brookline, Sunday, January <%0, 1867.
dear charley, — This did not go by the Despatch
Bag, and waits the Mail, if there is any ! on account
of the Great Storm of 1867, which has just got itself
over, and the effects of which are still conspicuous
in front of the house in great drifts as tall as Nathan,
literally. . . .
But now I must tell you about the storm, which
was very exciting. When we woke up Thursday it
was snowing hard, but almost all of the children
came to school, and we did n't take in what was going
on till noon, by which time the drifts were piling up
on the piazzas, the windows, and roofs; the wind
blowing so that in some places the ground was bare,
while close by, the snow sloped up suddenly several
feet. Sleighs came for the children who ride, and
those who walk were getting ready when Dr. Francis
18 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
came stamping in all covered with snow. " Don't
think of letting any of them walk," he said ; and
carried off Anne Head, who lives near him, in his
sleigh. This left the little Atkinsons, who live up
opposite the Annie Atkinsons, you know, beyond the
Guilds. We can almost see the house, but the Doctor
said the drifts were very large between there and
here, and that long avenue all blocked up ; so they
staid, of course ; and soon James, the Lowells' man,
appeared from Chestnut Hill, for Olivia and Mamy,
— but so covered with snow, and his horse and sleigh
in such a plight, he said he 'd hardly venture to take
the children back, the drifts were awful and they
might freeze. So he went oft", leaving four children
here, very jolly and excited at the wonderful novelty
of being snowed up at school. The anxious mind of
the housekeeper at once reverted to the larder, for
in a family of three to be suddenly increased to seven
when you can't send anywhere for anything, is rather
puzzling. Luckily, most luckily, Will Everett had
just presented me with a great roasting piece of his
pig, recently slaughtered — and this was actually the
dinner for the day, with the idea of cut and come
again on Sunday. Well it was cut and no come
again, for none of the children were Jews, and all
ate heartily. Meanwhile it snowed and snowed. No-
body came for the little Atkinsons, and night fell.
Nathan bufTetted down to the village, and found
everything stopped up in the way of cars, and the
road quite blockaded. So we played games with the
children till their bed-time; found enough night
gowns for them with difficulty, and settled ourselves
for the night.
Friday was bright and clear, but a strange sight
was out of the windows. Snow heaped nearly to the
top of every lower pane, — a wall of snow two or
three feet in front of every door, and not a sign of
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BKOOKLINE 19
man or beast in the road. No milk-man, no fish-man,
no grocer, no butcher, no ice-man came near that day,
though their five respective carts usually jingle to
the door. Six I ought to say, for the baker is due
Friday. The larder question began to grow serious,
— for we ate up the rest of the pork for breakfast.
Milk gave out, etc. Not butter, for haven't I got
the delicious stone jar of butter bought of Fullum,
who had it "put down" at Fitchburg? Don't you
wish you had some, unfortunate avoider of buffalo
butter! All stamped in sweet pats by the unerring
Sarah !
Of course I had no other scholars but the little
inmates, but kept a futile school for them for a few
hours, and then we adjourned to the parlour, where
painting was set up on a large scale. At twelve the
shovelling boy came and I sent him down to the
village for dinner. Soon after, the heroic Annie
Atkinson appeared before the house, a man before
her shovelling a path in which she slowly advanced.
She was hailed with wild enthusiasm. She reported
that Walnut Street had been broken out, and also the
Atkinson Hill, by snow ploughs, but still she didn't
dare to take the children without a Male (the shoveller
came from the Winsors' and went right off) ; so hav-
ing relieved her mind by finding them safe, she de-
parted, and sent back here young Moses Williams
(now a Soph, at college) and his little brother, who
took the children home. This left two Lowells, who
continued very jolly and pleasant, occasionally " won-
dering when James would come ' but not at all
homesick. They are sweet, nicely bred children and
we really enjoyed their niceness very much, only you
can imagine it was rather a bore to have anyone
round. Besides, no dinner! for That Boy didn't
turn up. Two o'clock came, no dinner ; half-past, no
dinner! At almost three came the boy, just as I
20 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
was really beginning to worry, all panting, saying it
took him all that time to get down and get back. I
don't believe that, by the way, but think he stopped
to shovel somebody out, and turn an ( ?) penny. At
any rate, we were Thankful to see him, — the fish
was soon fried and we didn't starve that day. In
the afternoon we dressed the children up in flannel
drawers and turned them out to play in the drifts.
It was laughable to see them plunging like little
porpoises in the great snow billows. Olivia could
stagger round pretty well, but Mamy, who is fat and
roly-poly (eight years old), could only tumble about
and get all submerged. I concluded to go out, and
in high boots and short skirts started for the Burs-
ley's, to compare notes with them. Such a time!
Cypress Street proved to be all unbroken and to-day
I find myself quite a heroine for being the first to
break it out. " Up to my knees " is an inadequate
expression, but I plunged along " in the footsteps
which perhaps another, etc.," until pretty near the
Bursley's, when I came to a place where all tracks
were obliterated and it was up to my waist. I
couldn't turn back, being so near, and after a good
tug found myself again in a track and arrived safely.
I was received with great applause, and came home
very easily round by the Town Hall and village,
where it is well broken out. Saturday all the
butchers and bakers managed to find us. Three
Dailys, three Transcripts, and three N. Y. Heralds
all came together ! The report being spread that we
had no milk, Edward Hooper arrived with a big pail,
and Murray Howe with a full can, just as the milk-
man had left, enfin, four quarts! "James" came
for the children about noon, " the fire began to burn
the stick, the stick began to beat the dog " and so on,
and we proceed as in whist. But all Nature looks
very oddly. Travel is still difficult, cars but just
LIFE IN BOSTON AND BROOKLINE 21
begin to run, and everybody you meet has tales of
hair-breadth escapes. I've left myself no room for
anything else, but this is our Chief Event, as you
may well imagine.
Yours,
Susie.
CHAPTEE II
Trip to Egypt and the Holy Land with Miss Lu-
cretia P. Hale to visit their brother, Charles
Hale, Consul General in Egypt.
(1867-1868)
To Miss Annie Buesley
Alexandria, October 26, 1867.
(A week yesterday since we got here.)
MY DAEEING ANNIE, JllSt E.OW I got Fanny H.'s
nice letter of just a month ago, which tells me all
your news, and sets my mind at rest for the present,
but a month, how long it seems ago, and what are
you doing now ? . . .
I've been sick (not very) almost ever since we
came — used up with the care of the journey, but I
saw enough of our life here the first day or two to
give you an idea, and you mustn't worry about my
health, for a rest in bed is the best possible thing
for me.
Charles has one story of a house, two flights from
the street. Do you understand ? It is all built
round a well in the middle, which lights the entry
and dining-room. People ring at the door at the top
of the stairs just like a street-door. I have only been
out of it once — that was to go to church Sunday —
for ladies don't walk out in Alexandria ! If I 'm
well enough we are to drive this p. m.
We have a maid, a native Arab but very intelli-
gent, and you wouldn't know her from a regular
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 23
woman, for she is dressed all right, only she kisses
our hands morning and night, and calls Charles
" Master." She does everything for us. I don't lift
a finger. You don't know how easy it is to take to
doing nothing. " Fanny, please to fold those skirts,"
etc. I did n't touch to unpack the trunks. She
does up things beautifully, — my muslin waist is
lovely.
At nine in the morning she comes and kisses our
hands and asks if we are ready for coffee, which we
take in bed. Each of us has a little iron bedstead
with mosquito netting all round. It is hot night and
day, but as we are never in the sun it is not oppres-
sive. We lazily dress ourselves and stroll into the
salon, where I practise a little on the piano or read,
or entertain visitors, for some come in the morning.
At twelve, or after, we have dejeuner. Charles gives
his arm to Luc, and we elegantly move into the
dining-room, where we eat such delicious things —
dainty birds, or chops, or omelet or fritters, all cooked
by Alt, who also waits at table. He is all done up
in a turban and brown loose trousers with a red sash.
He only speaks Arabic and French. The breakfast
ends with two or three kinds of fruit, either dates,
pomegranates, bananas, grapes, pears. Isn't it ag-
gravating that I had to stop eating ? but I shall begin
again. After breakfast, we lollop round in the salon,
which is furnished with great long couches — and
Ali brings coffee in little cups — sweet, without milk,
but very delicious. After that it is too warm to do
anything, and everybody goes to bed. We sleep till
about four when we must be dressed for visitors. By
that time the sun has left the front of the house, and
it is quite cool on the balcony, where we sit and watch
the mad proceedings going on below. The street is
narrow, so it looks quite deep, — and full of Arabs
raising Jack all the time. It would take a hundred
24 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
pages to describe. The servants belonging to each
house sit on a bench in a kind of archway in the side-
walk. They wear loose blue or white gowns with
their brown legs and arms sticking out all dusty.
They have shoes but often kick them off and sit
alongside barefoot. Perhaps a man comes along
with a round waiter on his head full of yellow millet,
sort of onion-looking things, and some brown things.
The person in the blue night gown thinks he '11 trade.
The man sets his waiter down on a big wicker cage
he lugs for the purpose, and the blue night gown buys
two little things full of yellow corn and one of the
onion things. H!e puts them on the bench between
him and the white night gown, and both gobble them
up, the white quite as much as the blue. Just then
a Seis comes tearing along. He is a long-limbed
Arab, often hand-
somely dressed in
ill I c*r-^^!^ilL / rec^ an(^ £0^ ves^
with white sleeves
and trousers bal-
looning out be-
hind, and a long
staff in his hand.
Every carriage (of
note) has a Seis
who runs before
to clear the narrow street ! Here is a string of camels,
four or five, joined by a rope from the back of one to
the tail of another. They are heavily piled with loads
of mud, I should think, and move slowly, necks bob-
bing up and down. But the dear little donkeys go
jouncing by covered with jingling-bells, like the bells
on a tambourine. They are so lively — I love them —
but a blue boy rushes along pounding them with a
stick. Visitors come to interrupt our observations. If
they talk French, as is quite usual, lam" sent to the
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 25
front," and I hear that somebody says one of the
young ladies speaks French remarkably well. That's
me. Though since I 'm sick I hear Lucretia shines
also. Ali brings coffee every time visitors are here
as above, whereby I drink a good deal, for it is eti-
quette to pretend to drink each time.
At seven we dine, a meal much like the dejeuner.
You must know everything is cooked over charcoal
in a very funny kitchen. No range or stove or such
clumsiness. Then a little music, much talking with
Charles and to bed at ten. Is not that a " change "
for a N. E. schoolma'am ? I won't cross lines, so
Good-bye.
Your Susie.
To Miss Annie Bursley
Cairo, Egypt, Sunday evening,
December 8, 1867.
dear annie, — I 've got your letter of Nov. — ,
just after you had received my photograph. I'm
horrid sorry there was such a gap in my letters then.
It is true, I couldn't find the heart to write to you
for a long time, and then besides, we were going far-
ther off, but now that I hear often, I feel like writ-
ing to you even more than I do. I hope you won't
get tired of my letters ! . . .
I have lots to tell you. Don't know where to begin.
We are going up the Nile this week, or early next,
and Mr. and Mrs. Lesley have come here to go with
us. Isn't that jolly ! They were in Switzerland, and
Charles sent to invite them with us, and they are
actually now at Charley's house in Alexandria, and
coming here Wednesday. We are wild to see them.
You know they are the ones who were at our house
two summers. We love her very much ; and Mr. L.
26 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
is very agreeable, and Charles and we all like him.
We are going in a steam-boat, which is much more
swell than the sail-boats, called " dahebiahs," like
those the Rodmans, Lawrences and Tuckers go in —
much larger and more comfortable, and altogether
more distinguished. So we shall go steaming by them
on the river, and stop and make a call on them, and
they will all lie down and foam at the mouth. . . .
We shall take books and work, and I believe the
piano, and paints of course, and just lollop on the
deck with an awning, and eat delicious things, and
stop when we please to go on shore, and ride on don-
keys to see ruins. What fun! I wish you were
going. Fanny, the maid, goes, — and Hassan, who
is a love, — and Mr. Tarvil, who is " Dragoman of
the Consulate," a very distinguished young gentle-
man of high birth, in a fez, but otherwise clothed like
a Christian — wears light gloves, and can talk Eng-
lish— a very gentlemanly little fellow. You know
Thursday was my birthday. Mr. Tarvil sent me a
gorgeous bouquet of sixty-seven exquisite roses (I
counted them) and a long box containing an amber
necklace with gold ma jigs hanging from it. Was n't
it perfectly jolly? Luc. bought me a bangly gilt
clasp and belt at an Arab bazaar, and Charley gave
me a lovely fat blank book with drawing-paper
leaves, for a kind of journal of this trip. When
Hassan came in that morning, he brought me a big
bunch of flowers about two feet across, which he pre-
sented with a lovely grin. And we had a bottle of
champagne at dinner. Wasn't it odd on my birth-
day to stand out on the balcony in my barege dress,
arranging my roses ? — a perfectly lovely warm day,
— trees green, birds singing, sun shining. Mr. Law-
rence gave me a little riding whip (for donkeys).
Cairo is delightful, awfully nicer than Alexandria,
and we have moved all our traps up here and shall
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 27
be here a good while after we come back from up
river. We are at a great big English hotel, which
only opens to-day, and we are the only people in it.
Everything' is in a half-finished state from the roof
down to the coffee-cups, and the English are so " stick-
in-the-mud " (I beg Ira's pardon, but I really think
the English are awfully stupid) that it seems as if
they never would get things under way, which makes
us rather mad, and we cuss and swear at them a
good deal, but the rooms are princely and the cook
is French and feed delicious. The only other people
as yet at the table d'hote are Mr. Forest, a director
of the Hotel Company. We call him especially
" Stick-in-the-Mud," for he is a perfect owl. He
has his hair parted in the middle and a loose beard
like your brother's — but I am glad to say the like-
ness extends no further. . . . Our rooms are at the
corner of the house with a stone balcony running all
round, where we sit and look out on a lovely wide
view of sky and trees and donkeys and camels.
I began a little sketch this p. m. I hope I shall
have lots to take home. Charley generally goes to
another hotel, but it is small, and he gave up the
rooms he usually has to the Lawrences. We dined
there yesterday with them and had rather a good
time. The Tuckers and their young men are there,
"Billy" Howe, Lawrence Mason and Arthur Law-
rence. The latter is very pleasant and sweet, I
think. ... He means to be a clergyman — Episco-
pal — but he has a good deal of fun — and is hand-
some and gentle. He has been here to see us — he
shares my enthusiasm for riding on donkeys. We
shall see them all on the river, and perhaps dine with
them on Christmas Day, if we don't get too far ahead
of them. The Kodmans got off yesterday, — we paid
them a visit on their dahebiah the day before. It
looked very cosy and nice, little cabins for each and
28
LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
a salon where their books and work were spread
about, but our boat will be bigger. . . .
This is the queerest town you ever saw : — I shall
describe it in some other letter which perhaps you
will see. I am a great deal happier here than any
time since leaving home, and I expect to enjoy the
Nile. Do write lots, you can't write too much.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Annie Bursley
On board " Besh-bish/' near Tel-el-amana,
Nile, Sunday, December %%, 1867.
. dear annie, — I wish you could see us, all sitting
on deck in the soft wind and sunshine. Charles and
Lucretia, lazy things, just finishing their coffee (ten
o'clock a. m. ! ) , Mrs. Lesley and I writing letters,
Mr. Lesley sketching a cliff into his notebook, and
Mr. Van Lennep making cartridges, Hassan stand-
ing by to help him.
This is a picture of the
man at the wheel with
another old "Rag-bag,''
as we call them, to help
him. The helmsman is
generally on a broad
grin at our proceedings.
We have had a per-
/*I^O f VrflTW^ fectly jolly week, and
""^ so far the Nile voyage
is enchanting. People
who take it don't say half enough about it. I
thought I would keep a little journal day by day for
you, but we are so busy and hurried, and I'm so
tired at night ! I have n't touched it. I think I must
try to remember the chief things, however, for you
will be amused, I 'm sure.
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 29
Monday we went on board and got settled and
spent the night, bnt didn't start, for Charles was in
Alexandria for a ball which he had to attend because
the Viceroy did. It was very pretty lying at the
shore at " Boulak," the name of the starting-place —
but awfully cold on deck with a beastly wind.
Tuesday we had a telegram from Charles saying
he would arrive and be ready to start about three.
Fanny came to me and said, " Captain want to know,
Miss Susie, if you will have the fires made under the
engines." Yes, I said I would — wasn't it curious
to be ordering the steam made for a steam-boat ? We
waited lunch for Charles, and started the minute he
arrived, but we had a very exciting meal, for every
one kept springing up and rushing to see a palace,
a harem or something, as we passed by Cairo and its
suburb. It is all very pretty. We were so jolly, five
of us, Mr. and Mrs. Lesley, Luc, Charles and I, for
Mr. Tarvil, who went to the ball with C, saw fit to
miss the train from Alexandria, so we started without
him; for you must know there is a railroad by the
side of the river as far as Minyeh, and we could pick
up the tardy Tarvil at one of the stations.
About two hours after we started Hassan in great
excitement announced that he saw the Lawrences'
dahebiah. He instantly fired two pistols. We
stopped and after a great deal of handkerchief wav-
ing (they raised and lowered their flag for a salute),
C. and I got into our little boat, and were rowed
across the river to them. The river is wider than
you would suppose, as wide as across the cove at
J. Pond, from Pine bank over to Mr. Frank Park-
man's, perhaps. When we got over there it was al-
ready dark, for there is no twilight here ; minute the
sun sets the glow fades, out come the stars and night
begins. The Lawrences received us with joy, for
they were very gloomy. Only think, the distance we
30 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
came in two hours took them four days, for there was
a head wind all the time, and they only got on by
" tracking/' which is being pulled along on a tow-
path by the side, by the crew and a rope. Mr. L. is
an invalid, and altogether they were having a ghastly
time, especially as they had seen nothing of the other
boats of their friends, who by starting earlier had
outstripped them. However, we cheered them a good
deal, gave Mr. L. the latest Daily Advertiser (for we
got a mail the last thing before sailing which brought
me your dear letter of the 21st Nov.) and brought
Mrs. L. and Minna Motley across to dine with us.
You must know we have the most stunning feed, six
or eight courses at lunch and dinner. . . . We dine
generally at five or six o'clock on deck, which even
after dark can be shut in close with awnings, so that
our silver candelabra with six candles don't flare too
much, — there are also murky lanterns hanging above
the table. After dinner, we adjourned as usual to
the salon, showed the ladies our cabins and cosy ar-
rangements and had a refreshing exchange of senti-
ment. Their dragoman, Josef, came for them in
their boat, and we bade them farewell. Our boat
always stops for the nights, so all this time we were
at anchor, but at sunrise next morning we steamed
off, leaving the L.'s behind. I hope they have had
better luck since.
Wednesday. — I was up rather early, and had my
coffee alone on deck. Lovely scenery on each side,
palms, villages, low hills, women leading sheep down
to water, donkeys and camels distinct against the
sky. . . .
By and by we came to Beni Suef , and here we had
the funniest time. The Consular Agent for U. S.
heard we were coining and came down to meet us. He
is an Arab, but Christian, but not at all a Yankee, —
don't talk anything but " Bag-bag." Hassan inter-
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 31
preted. He invited us to his house, and we all went
with him through a large town of narrow streets like
Cairo, to his funny house (I have a sketch of the
interior), where he treated to sherbet (awful good)
and coffee. Besides, he sent lots of oranges, a sheep
and a turkey to the boat! Ain't it fun to be Con-
suls ? Here Mr. Tarvil arrived, but to our grief no
Mr. Van Lennep, whom Charles had invited to join
us, rather late to be sure, at the ball Monday night.
That night we steamed up a few miles to some ala-
baster quarries which Mr. Lesley wanted to see. He
is splendid for this trip, for he is thunderingly scien-
tific, and with maps and guide books roots out all
kinds of things to see, besides he can read hiero-
glyphics, and knows all about Pacht and other god-
desses and suns with horns and so on. We anchored
just off the quarries for the night, and early the next
(Thursday) morning Mr. Lesley and I went ashore
(nobody else up) to examine the alabaster. . . . Mr.
Lesley admired the alabaster, and I ran up a little
hill and admired the lovely, lovely river, with green
shores dotted with palms, stretching far away every-
where.
But this day, Thursday, was wild. We came upon
the Rodmans who were delightful — and so glad to
see us. They had been two weeks getting here, but
seemed to be having a lovely time, not grumbling at
detentions or inconveniences. Mr. Rodman is rabid
on birds. He shoots and stuffs a great many. They
dined with us, for we decided at once to anchor by
them for the night. Imagine our excitement at hear-
ing shouts from the shore, and then appeared Mr.
Van Lennep, who sprang aboard, panting and dusty.
He came by railroad too late to catch us at Beni
Suef, went on at a venture in the cars, and saw from
the car-window our boat on the river. Jumped out
at a way-station, not knowing its name, and had been
32 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
running half an hour, on the chance of hitting us.
If we had n't stopped for the Rodmans he might have
missed us entirely ! A chance Arab soon came along
with his luggage — there always is an Arab who
turns up to fetch and carry. Of course his arrival
was very exciting. I thought Emma Rodman would
have died of Van L. He speaks English very well,
but with an accent, of course, and in his excitement
he used such idioms. She said he was just like a man
in a play, and so he was. Get the photograph book
from Nathan and look at him, for he plays a promi-
nent part in this history. He is lovely, — so gay,
boyish, gentlemanly, well-informed, agreeable —
quite the life of the party. He and Mr. Tarvil, who
is not so much of a man, but harmless, are running
and fooling each other all the time, in French, Italian,
Arabic and English. I sit between them at dinner,
and they vie with each other in passing the wine,
and folding my napkin. Good fun, hey?
The Rodmans were nice, nice, nice. We parted
from them that night, but their dahebiah was close
alongside, and the next morning, Friday, they came
upon our boat and we all steamed together two or
three miles to ... , where we landed for an excur-
sion. These excursions are such fun. About a mil-
lion donkeys were waiting for us, sent forward by
the Consular Agent of Beni Suef. Our side-saddles
were heiked on to them, the gentlemen mounted Arab
steeds, also provided by (and at expense of) Con-
sular Agent, and escorted by no end of natives we all
trotted off to see the Coptic Convent, and afterwards
an ancient grotto full of hieroglyphics. I can't begin
to tell the fun. Emma and Mrs. R. very jolly, our
little donkeys so sweet, each with a donkey-boy hold-
ing us on, and trying to talk English or Arabic with
us. The strangest part is that all the neighbourhood
tags along too. I counted forty-five people in our
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 33
party, though we ourselves even with Hassan, etc.,
were not a dozen. The " Captain of the Province "
was there on horseback, a very swell personage wear-
ing gold chains and a yellow and red turban. He
delighted in parading his horsemanship, which was
wonderful, and careered before us across the sand
just like a desert, — in fact it is nothing else, — like
all the pictures of Bedouins throwing the jereed.
Van Lennep and Tarvil also were on splendid horses,
and went coursing about throwing reeds at each other.
Altogether it was a wild scene. Can you fancy it at
all? Ourselves on gentle donkeys, our white um-
brellas up, and two or three attendants each, —
crowds of white-teethed Arabs, — horses rushing about
everywhere — and all on a stretch of dazzling yellow
sand wherever you could look, with low sand hills
before us where the Grotto was. The antiquities
were not much there, better farther on. The Copts
gave us coffee which we drank standing outside the
convent, with all the Eag-bags staring at us.
So back to lunch, which the Rodmans shared with
us, — and then we sadly left them and steamed up
to Minyeh, quite a big town, where we had to stop
to take in coal, and stopped all night. Mr. Van
Lennep and I tuned the guitar which Charles brought
along. He has an excellent ear, and knows a good
deal about music.
Saturday, after an hour or two of steaming, we
reached Beni-Hassan which is a remarkable place
34 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
for antiquities; so we stopped for the day, making
one excursion before luncheon on donkeys as before,
and another after. In the morning we had even
more escort than before, so after lunch as we started
Charley told Hassan to tell them that only those
must go with us who were absolutely
necessary — " that he would not have
the Whole Village accompany us,
and that if they did he should punish
them." You ought to have seen them
scuttle when they heard this. Seems
as if I should die laughing to think
that it 's necessary to order the whole
village to stay at home. After all
there were about six to each donkey.
Here is one, clothed, fact, you observe, in the " tight-
fitting brown costume " described by Thackeray in
" Cornhill to Cairo," all shaved but a little tuft on
the top of his head. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To the Hale Family
Assouan, Sunday, January 5, 1868.
dear family, — Don't suppose that the Nile is a
place of leisure, for nobody since Luc's last date has
had any time for writing ! Besides to tell all we do
would take volumes; but I must try to go on with
matters where she left them.
Sunday, 2£d December. — We steamed quietly up
river, resting and writing what you see — but in the
p. m. we reached Siut, where the " brother " of the
Consular Agent awaited us ("brother" means
" friend," but is the term in constant use on the
Nile), with donkeys richly caparisoned — lovely fel-
lows to escort us to the town about a mile off. The
two sons of the C. Agent also came on board, youths
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 35
of fourteen and sixteen who can talk a little English.
Our cortege, amounting to thirty or so agents and
carwasses, was imposing. The ride was lovely,
through green fields on a high causeway, which was
raised for the telegraph poles, which reach, indeed,
even here to Assuan! At Siut there was a great
deal of hospitable backing and filling, because our
Consular Agent was away, but that didn't seem to
be any reason why his " brother" shouldn't invite
us to a gorgeous dinner. So we went first to C.
Agent's house and had coffee and saw his little
daughter and his monkey, and afterwards sons, and
all came to " brother " Weesa's house where we had
such a dinner! Ourselves were seven, — the Ameri-
can missionary was invited, he happens to be a
Scotchman, named Hogg. The Mondiah of the Prov-
ince came, very swell in tan-coloured kid gloves and
otherwise European in costume, but only talking
Arabic; a friend, in a promiscuous costume who
dropt in for no special reason that we could find out,
completed the party at table, for the worthy Weesa
himself only helped the five or six Arabic "Pegs"
and " Fullums " who served the meal. There was also
an anxious-browed friend, whom we called Frank
Peabody from the resemblance, who stood in the
doorway (in a turban) and advised about matters, —
rushing for an additional tumbler when it was needed.
The sons of the C. Agent and half a dozen children
were suppressed during dinner, and Hassan sate
without in the entry.
Well, there were thirteen courses which we ate, all
delicious, and when we said we couldn't eat any
more, which is the custom, there were still eight more
dishes visible, to come, and more doubtless in the
kitchen. The piece de resistance was a whole sheep,
which Mr. Tarvil carved. It proved to be stuffed
with a pillar of rice containing almonds and other
36 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
matters. Sweets and solids are alternated, not as
with us — so blanc-mange appeared after chicken,
and next came sausages. What a dinner! After-
wards, when we had returned to the salon, we had tea
served with orange squeezed into it, very good. Then
came the dancing girls, richly caparisoned, and an
extraordinary orchestra which sate on the floor and
produced rare sounds. We left on our donkeys be-
^ tween eight and nine. It
^g ^a^7 was Perfe°tly dark and riding
gj' „a-2?y% ~^Z?_ through the narrow streets
lighted by candles, borne by
Rag-bags, in immense lanterns,
was very Arabian Nights-
esque. The street is shut off
at intervals by great wooden doors, which are opened
when thumped by One-eyed Calenders. . . .
Tuesday, steaming again, and Susie, Luc, and I
very busy preparing little matters for the stockings.
We dine on deck every day, just at sunset, when we
stop steaming for the night. ... If it is too cool
for all the evening on deck we go down by and by
to the salon, where we play picquet, read Artemus
Ward, or write a paper of consequences. At eight
o'clock Benedetto brings a tray with tea, which is
served generally by Mr. Van Lennep, and we break up
by nine or ten, very tired, especially after excursions.
We are writing a novel, each one a chapter, by turns,
and every day at dinner the new chapter is read,
amid the yells of the company. It is getting very
exciting.
We got Hassan (much pleased) to put the stockings
by the beds of the gentlemen. There was a little
interchange of stockings in the female quarter and
Wednesday, Xmas, great hilarity was caused by
the opening thereof. I prepared waggish and appro-
priate sketches, which cause a smile, for each stock-
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 37
ing. We reached Denderah pretty early and went
off to the rains on donkeys, taking our lunch with
us. This was our first genuine Ruin of a temple,
and very interesting, although stupidly modern, being
only the age of the Ptolemies and Cleopatra. Mr.
Lesley is death on hieroglyphics and cartouches.
Thanks to him we all know " Ramses II ' like a
familiar friend, and the sign of life is as readily
recognised (and as common here) as S. T. 1860 X
on the Ruins of West Roxbury. Mr. Van Lennep
is devoted to the subject, and Mr. Lesley. The rest
follow with unequal steps, more or less ardent. I
confess I have very little power of digestion for de-
ciphering hieroglyphics. I am apt to settle down
with my paint-box and sketch a green field and a
little bit of mountain which haven't the remotest
connection with Ramses and Thormoses. I like im-
mensely the temples and obelisks, but not the things
on them — except in very small doses. . . . We
lunched on the very top of Denderah, with the hawk-
headed god, Horas, or perhaps it was the goddess,
Pacht, sticking out her leg at us on the wall. Do
forgive me if I don't say enough about the antiqui-
ties. It is all in " Murray." Mind, I like them,
onlv I can't describe about the North-wall and the
South-wall and the left wing of the propylon. That
p. m. we went across the river, I think, in our small
boat, to Keneh, where the Besh-bish was coaling. A
jolly Christmas dinner and flaming plum-pudding.
There spent the night, and
Thursday, reached Thebes at noon, where we stayed
^.Ye days. Here lives Mustafa Aga, C. Agent both
for Erench and English, a character — Arabic, with
a smattering of all languages. Vain, simple, sweet
old thing, very hospitable. He has built his house
under the portico of an old temple, so that it is en-
tered through grand old columns. We made him a
38 LETXEES OF SUSAN HALE
call, and he gave us coffee, sherbet, and also lots of
blue china antiquities, and other rare things. We
moored the boat, however, on the other side of the
river, for convenience of going to the Temple of
Quornah, which we did that same afternoon. Very
lovely, and old, lots of Ramses. We went also to the
Ramesium, which is near, and where is the great big
statue fallen down, the largest in the world, but all
ruined.
Friday, sl delightful day at the Tombs of the Kings,
only Susie Lesley was too tired to go with us. It is
a very long donkey ride through marvellous wastes
of sand, and the tombs are excavated, sixty feet down-
ward, in the mountain. Didn't Belzoni have fun
finding them ! The walls inside are covered with
paintings still very bright in colour. We had each
a candle to grope about with. There was one awful
place leading into the very bowels of the earth, and
smelling very considerably of mummy. ~No mum-
mies there now, — but when we came out we had a
very funny time with crowds of " Rag-bags ' who
came round with antiquities ? ! ! ? We all sate down
on the yellow sand exhausted with the climb up the
steep steps of "No. 18" (tombs are numbered);
these creatures came round with sort of bags or bas-
kets, and squatting before us, and gradually hitching
up closer, till finally their glowering eyes and grin-
ning teeth were right in our faces ; silently they pro-
duced their treasures — a mummy hand with ring
on it, a piece of mummy-case, a scarabseus, and so
on. Hassan, standing in the midst, does the bargain-
ing. " Well, Hassan," says the Consul, " you may
ask him what he'll take for this hawk with nothing
but the feet and tail left." Hassan to man, "War-
raqua, warragy." Man says five pounds. Hassan
throws the thing contemptuously in his face, " La,
la!" (No, no!). "I '11 give you two piastres." (Eight
TO EQYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 39
piastres make a shilling.) So the man gives it, and
takes two piastres. Mr. Lesley rather wanted a
scarabseus, for which the owner demanded an enor-
mous price. It ended in his taking a shilling. After
this we lunched at the mouth of a tomb, and Luc.
and I napped on the sand. It is a desolate enough
place without a spear of grass or a tree. The men
went into several other tombs, — but No. 18 is the
best. A fatiguing day but good, — and it's lovely
dropping down to the river on the gentle little don-
keys in the magnificent sunsets we have every night,
all different. Of course I can't tell half the inci-
dents of donkey-boys contretemps, etc., that keep us
in a state of constant frolic and excitement. Hassan
brings me every flower that grows — not many, but
some are lovely, the blossoms generally of the new
fresh-springing crops, all leguminosae, every one of
'em, except some.
Saturday. — Donkeys again to Medineh Haboo,
still on the W. side of the river — a grand temple,
with a courtyard and pillars still magnificent. Home
at sunset by the Great Colossi, one of which is the
Vocal Statue (beloved by Holland), which I like
best of everything in Egypt. The dear old things
sit so comfortably with their hands on their knees,
looking forth across the valley, in a lovely glowing
field of green, doing just what they have a mind to,
and not having to move for anything. We saw them
all these days, but now near for the first time. They
are enormous, — and how lovely, their long shadows
slanting across the plain. As for the Voice, it is
ridiculous, and I believe it used to speak differently.
"This day we moved over to the Thebes side and were
to have done Karnak on
. Sunday — but for a wonder, I was really sick with
heiking, — and all were so tired it was decided to
rest, a delightful conclusion of the Consul. I stayed
40 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
on the bed and Susie Lesley nursed me in a lovely
manner. Up-stairs they had (whose dahebiah
overtook us here) to lunch. He is a New Jersey
man, who came up with wife, daughter and son. Son
sick, they, disgusted, turned round at Thebes and went
home. Fools, thorough (bad) specimens of preju-
diced Americans. They have afforded us fun, — but
I won't waste time on their idiot-syncrasies. They
mean well.
Monday, December SO. — I was all right and
everybody fresh and lively for Karnak, which is con-
sidered, you know, the great thing of all on the whole
Nile. As I understand it, Thebes is the modern
name of a town on the ruins of an old town, named
Luxor. Karnak is a great old temple half a mile
out of Luxor, and the Colossi and those other places we
have seen before were clustered about the Grandeurs
of Karnak. The river now runs between; but some
people think it used to go the other side of Karnak
which was then connected by avenues with the Colossi
and all that. But then again, others think the river
always did, etc. You can read a great deal of
twaddle about Karnak, and see a great many pic-
tures that don't look anything like it in books such
as " Bartlett's " and others. It is magnificent, and
beyond description. There is a great deal left of it,
though all speaks of ruin, — but especially the grand
hall of pillars, close together like a grove of palms
and no roof but the bright blue sky above, is beauti-
ful and solemn. We spent a long day there, wander-
ing with the guide to the different obelisks and won-
ders, but always returning to the grand hall. It
seems frivolous even to mention that we lunched at
the feet of these great pillars, — but lunch was very
refreshing, especially when Mustafa Aga's surprise
appeared in the form of an immense tin waiter,
which being uncovered displayed a whole turkey and
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 41
a whole sheep, each richly cooked, and stuffed with
rice fixin's, brought hot from his house. He was
present himself, and we drank his health in cham-
pagne. While we were feasting, his attendants spread
in another part of the temple at the foot of the col-
umns a large turkey carpet and cushions, to which
we retired and where we reclined, drinking hot cof-
fee and (the gentlemen) smoking. Thus comfortably,
we fell asleep, or dozed, looking up at the sky beyond
the graceful capitals, — and at lovely birds floating
in the sunlight. . . . We all stayed till after dark,
which comes soon after sunset, to see the effect of
some rockets or blue-lights in the great hall. Then
home by lovely starlight and a little new moon. . . .
Wednesday, January 1. — Mr. Tarvil prepared
for us a lovely surprise, for on coming on deck in
the morning we found presents for everyone, grouped
about a rare old image, very antique, of some king,
for the Consul. The presents are all real antiquities,
which he got at Thebes; they were accompanied by
little mottoes or inscriptions with each. Wasn't it
pretty of him? Before noon we got to Edfou, don-
keyed to Temple, the last cleared out I think by
Mariette Bey and so in beautiful condition, — a won-
derful courtyard, and splendid view of the Nile Val-
ley from the top of the What 's-his-name, reached by
two hundred and twenty-five steps built into the wall,
just like the roll-marble things Charley used to do
with the bricks. Lady Duff Gordon's boat was here,
and she came to lunch with us. Very agreeable and
amusing. She lives in her dahebiah, cruising up and
down as she likes. Quite strong-minded, but well-
mannered and well-informed. She assumed the con-
versation, and carried it through with a firm hand,
to the satisfaction of the audience, pausing occasion-
ally to give the rest a chance, but more often for a
whiff at her cigarette. She is a picturesque looking
42 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
creature, tall with long black skirt, no hoops (but
no more have we, here), and a hat wound with white
cashmere. She carries a cane, and looks a little in-
firm — not with age — about fifty-five, I should think,
but delicate health. Why she blows up and down the
Nile year in and year out, while Lord Alexander
D. G. pursues some honest mercantile calling in Lon-
don, I dunno, and I didn't ask her.
Thursday. — When we got up we found ourselves
at Silsilis, where are traces of the ancient quarries
where Ramses got his building-things. A few of us
stopped to see them, then we steamed on and to our
surprise in an hour or two were at Assuan.
This is the end of our steaming, for here is the
First Cataract which our steamer cannot pass. Dahe-
biahs sometimes go farther, but often don't. At any
rate, we have had lots of pleasure, and it would be
idle to regret not going on — though we are all sorry
to turn back, especially as we shall go down much
faster, and stopping but little. Who would not be
a Baker bold, and go up to the Albert Eyanza. The
natives and the scenery get more Baher-ish every
day. We are now entirely used to seeing our fellow
citizens without any clothing whatever; a simple
turban, or a mantle over the shoulders, seems almost
oppressive. There are rocks on the shore and in the
river. The view is lovely.
Friday, at an early hour, the donkeys were waiting
on the shore, and camels also came and offered them-
selves, but Hassan drove them off. You must know
at all these places there has been a visit from a Con-
sular Agent, or his brother, great kow-towing, offers
of attentions, and often a present of sheep and tur-
keys. They all are very smiling, and transmit
through Tarvil expressions of devotion to Charles.
They generally accompany us with all their relations
on our excursions, and provide the richest donkeys
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 43
the land affords. My donkey on this trip was that
of the " Inspector General/' and a very lovely beast.
We all set off for. a fleet donkey gallop over the sands,
to the town opposite the island of Philse — a wild
Nubian village, the streets full of heaps of dried
dates, — women selling henna, a green powder, men
with wonderful woolly hair. We got into a little
dahebiah to cross the river — such yelling ! — and, as
we crossed, the river was alive with enviable little
Nubians floating about on logs, and crying " Back-
sheesh." They roll up their slight clothing in a wob
on their heads, and
then sitting on a log
of the Doum palm
(which is very
floatsy), they career __j2~f
about in the stream.
We passed a lovely day at Philse, and then came
back doivn the cataract in a little dahebiah. The
cataract is a tremendous rapid, nothing more, but the
natives make a tremendous time of the pass, and it
really is a little precarious. They howl and yell, say
their prayers — the boat swoops over the foam, a few
waves break over the deck, and with a swirl, swing
round at the foot of the fall. The sailors dance for
joy, seize their oars, and keep off the rocks. It was
a wild scene. Such a din I never heard.
Saturday, we had a quiet morning, all a good deal
knocked up with the day before. In the afternoon
we had a nice donkey-ride through the town, which
is odder than Siut, and in the evening a visit from
young Duff Gordon, for Lady G.'s dahebiah has got
up here. He is a boy of eighteen, intelligent, very
English, handsome open face, and blue eyes. He
was at school at Eton, and he talks about " an awful
row " and other things quite in the language of Tom
Brown.
44 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Sunday. — This morning we had a visit from a
French Minister Plenipotentiary, who is here in an-
other of the Viceroy's steamers, a lovely handsome
man of some fifty summers, with elegant French
manners. As he left, little Gordon came to lunch,
but before we got to lunch two Englishmen sot in,
Mr. Ind. Coope and his tutor, Mr. Tolfrey, who are
friends of the Eodmans, and very impatient to see
them. See how we have randans, even six hundred
miles from the sea. As soon as possible after lunch,
we got up steam and were off, amid firing of guns
and waving handkerchiefs, with the other civilised
just mentioned. But to tell the truth we are now
stuck on a sand-bank just opposite Assuan ! — and
Charles has just thrown down to us in the salon from
the deck an elegant French note from the French
minister offering to come a Vauhe demain, and haul
us off. If it should prove we can't get off and have
to live here, I shall send this letter by him — as he
leaves in a week or two. . . .
Friday, January 9. — We didn't have to live op-
posite Assuan, but we had sich a time! The Gov-
ernor of that place sent word that two hundred and
fifty men should come to get us off. They kept ar-
riving in piratical-looking scow-like dahebiahs — not
two hundred and fifty, but twenty-eight, who pretty
much filled the boat. We sate on deck watching
them tugging at a rope, don't expect me to explain,
which ran along the deck, singing, " Allah ! ha li !
Allah he li," the loveliest chaunt, all the time, the
captain and many others screaming orders, — a regu-
lar domdaniel. At eleven o'clock (no use going to
bed in that din), they got us off, and then it was
sweet to see Hassan paying these rag-bags, a moder-
ate backsheesh of a few copper piastres to each,
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 45
which made them smile from ear to ear and say,
"Ketter hairak," which means, "thanks." . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Nathan Hale
Hotel des Ambassadeues, Cairo,
January 22, 1868.
Wednesday. — Charles to Alexandria for a few
days — and we to the Pyramids. Shall I tell it
long or short ? Well, say down to the end of the
next page.
Hassan went with C. — bnt Haggi was left in
charge, and donkeys, carriage and lunch were or-
dered over night for eight o'clock. At half -past nine
or after we started, but I won't describe the cussin'
and swearin' which occupied the interval. A cawass
of the police on horseback in light-blue broadcloth
and a sword, — and a secondary cawass on a don-
key with pistols, accompanied us for General Effect,
and to keep off the natives. The gentle Haggi
mounted the box. We drove to Old Cairo, whither
donkeys had preceded us. At the ferry there, what
a scrimmage! One donkey fell down but soon got
up — the cawass's horse refused to cross on the boat,
so he had to take to a donkey. Amid yells we got
off and got across, — there to mount our little beasts
for a lovely ride to the Pyramids on the raised road
prepared for the railway track.
I ascended the Grand Pyramid; Lucretia got
halfway; Mr. Lesley only a few rods, and Susie
didn't try. It is a fearful heik and entre nous don't
pay. But I thought my constituents in America
would be disappointed if I didn't make the ascent.
I beg you not to think the height of the blocks is
here exaggerated, for it isn't. Nothing dangerous,
46 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
though fatiguing, and the Arabs very strong. They
pull you up like a weed. I found myself alone at
the top with my two guides, one
of whom could talk English, and
pestered me for backsheesh, but I
talked to him like a father till he
desisted. Afterwards we lunched,
and took a prolonged view of
the Sphynx, who is very good.
Home by sunset, but awful tired. We think we
prefer the Pyramids at a respectful distance. . . .
To Miss Annie E. Bursley
[Alexandria], Wednesday evening,
February 5, 1868.
So, my dear, we have got back here and I have
your delightful letters of January 2, and Jan-
uary 9. Alas ! you are perfectly right about people
living together. It would never do. I would risk
your peculiarities and mine, perhaps, but the two
families. No. If you and I get toothless and shaky,
twenty years hence, we will retire from the world
together and fight it out in the N. W. corner of Ver-
mont, or some such place.
Dear, I shall quarrel with one thing you said —
but then you'll never stick to it — that it's better
not to get attached to people in places, and so save
disappointments and separations. Don't you know
you 've got to love somebody, and if you shut your
heart out from other people you'll take to loving
yourself? Look at ; a melancholy illustration
of not caring for others. No, no, love all the people
you can. The sufferings from love are not to be
compared to the sorrows of loneliness. . . .
Your loving Susie.
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 47
To Edwaed Eveeett Hale
Maesaba, April 8, 1868.
deae edwaed, — Those who travel in tents have
very little chance for writing; but to-day we have
had only a short march, and found ourselves here
at noon, where we are to rest till to-morrow. So
after lunching in the shadow of the convent — which
is so inhospitable as only to give water to strangers,
and admit none, we have taken ourselves to our tents.
It is fearfully hot and sultry, still a slight breeze
comes in at our door and I sit in my shirt-sleeves to
write. Now I think you are enough mystified, and
I '11 set about telling how we got here. To begin
where Lucretia left off above —
Saturday, April Jf, was cold and rainy. Luc. and
I stayed indoors all day. ... I painted away on
flowers at every spare minute. I want you all to get
an idea of them, though there are such millions, • it
is out of the question to keep pace with them.
Sunday, we got up at four-thirty a.m. ! ! (not
Lucretia, she stayed in her bed wisely), had coffee
at five, and then escorted by Einkenstein (Ameri-
can V. Consul) and his sister repaired through the
damp and rainy streets to the Church of the Holy
Sepulchre for the ceremony of Palm Sunday. It
was necessary to go thus early on account of the
crowd, which was immense. How shall I give you
an idea of the thing ? Two separate ceremonies were
going on at once ; the Greek and the Latin ; also, in
fact, the Armenian, I believe, but they were out of
sight. The two (G. and L.) chapels open on each
other, each gorgeously lighted with many candles ;
a low gate shut out the Greeks from meddling with
the Latins. We saw the Latin ceremony, but heard
the tam-taming of the Greeks, and smelt their in-
48 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
cense. A Bishop (the Patriarch is at Rome) went
in and out of the Sepulchre-cell, had his hat taken
off and put on frequently, chaunted out of a big book,
with a chorus of a few boys. After this he blessed
the palms and presented them to the faithful; any-
one who chose to advance to him and kneel received
one; and our strong-minded female friend (who
was on the Atlantic with us, and travelling alone,
has got herself as far as Jerusalem, ain't it funny!)
was among the first to receive one. ~No reason why,
you know, she is Eegular Orthodox — but the push-
ing kind — and was with our party at the church that
day. The only wonder is that she is not now in this
tent accompanying us to the Jordan. But I digress.
There are several princesses in J. for Easter —
these received highly ornamented palms. We have
some simple ones, which I hope to get home safely.
The prettiest thing was the procession, three times
round the Sepulchre. The bishop, the chaunting
boys, the priests and monks, the princesses, the trav-
ellers, all swept round the big church three times,
carrying little candles; but preceded by a company
of Turkish soldiers and our friend, the Colonel, who
coffeed us the other day, you know. He was lashing
round with his Courbash (rhinoceros whip) and
keeping the Christians in order. About then the
Greeks began to ebullish; having got through their
service they naturally did n't want to stay any longer.
Besides, though the Latins own the spot of the Sepul-
chre, the Greeks have a right to a third of it, and to
finish their ceremony before it, it required all the
Colonel's vigilance and a big bench set across the
little door (aided by a stout man who sate down on
it inadvertently), to keep the Greeks back till the
Latins were through ; I think they were a little slow
on purpose. These carefully put out their big can-
dles, and the little ones which belonged to them, on
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 49
the altar. The Greek "Fullums" were lighting
theirs as we came away. ... I haven't given an
idea of the immense crowd of spectators of all na-
tions who squeezed us, but we had excellent places,
thanks to Finkenstein and Charles's prowess.
It wasn't eight o'clock when we came back to the
hotel. The baggage was to be packed to go before
us, as we were to start in the p. m. After this Luc.
and Charley with Mr. Lawrence went to church, but
I took to my bed, and got a good sleep.
Up to this time the weather had been fiendish, like
our spring weather; almost all the campers round
Jerusalem had been driven to the hotel — in fact,
most of their tents blew down. But we were all
ready to start, and hoped for the best; the sun came
out, and Finkenstein said the wind had changed.
We got off about three-thirty, and have had lovely
weather ever since — cold at first, but now hot. We
started all on horses through the Damascus Gate, as
thus. First a Bedouin, just like a picture of one in
a Geography, his gun across his shoul-
ders, then Arthur Lawrence, I, Lu-
cretia, Hassan, Charles, and a "mule-
teer" (on a horse), carrying lunch,
shawls and other trifles. I mention
our party in the order we are apt to
take according to the fleetness, or I
might better say the slowness of our steeds. We
started Sunday afternoon to go only a short distance
to break the journey of Monday ; so after riding about
two hours we found ourselves at Solomon's Pools.
We saw this old battlemented ruin from the top of
a hill, and when we got to it, turning sharp round
the corner, found our tents already pitched, and
smoke rising from the cook-stove, for you must know
that our Gentlemanly Cook, a decayed baron (as we
are convinced), engaged for this occasion, goes before
50 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
always with the baggage-train, which consists of
three horses, two mules and two donkeys, with four
men, I believe ; I don't clearly know. They get mat-
ters in readiness by the time we arrive.
This was the loveliest spot. We gave shouts of
joy, and jumped blithely from our horses. A lovely
valley with hills notching down towards the horizon,
in front three broad square pools — artificial, and
"evidently of great antiquity, although not men-
tioned in the Old Testament or by Josephus." They
think they conveyed water to Jerusalem. Anyhow
the moonlight and twilight on the water was deli-
cious. But I must tell you it was awful cold, and
the ground actually muddy from the recent rains.
We pampered Egyptians have felt nothing like it all
winter, though you Americans might have called it
mild. Arthur Lawrence and I tore back and forth
to restore circulation, and in fact succeeded by the
time Hassan brought steaming soup into the tent.
C. and Arthur L. have one tent which is also salle a
manger; Luc. and I share another ; and in the third,
which is apple-green in colour, all the cooks and
bottle-washers abide. We have excellent feed, six or
seven courses, elegantly served in Hassan's best style.
As it was too cold to sit up, we forthwith went to
bed, and I may say quaked for some time — although
we had lots of coverings, and a1 snifter of brandy and
water on retiring.
Tuesday. — I got up early, as who would not who
is camping ? — and made a sketch of the pools which
will be found among the Archives. We had coffee,
and got started at eight-thirty. Rode all day, stop-
ping for lunch by the wayside. Flowers, flowers of
the most bewildering nature — three sorts of or-
chises! a thing that must be Cistus, or Rhexia — red
poppies, and anemones a perfect drug, and cyclamen
reeking. We passed Rachel's Tomb, — and the place
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 51
where Abraham was called to kill Isaac. Hassan says
of it, " Arabs say, Here man, when him asleep, —
him get np and tink to kill him little boy." We went
a long way off the road to see " The Oak of Abra-
ham'' where he is supposed to have entertained the
Angels. It is very old, — and you can believe what
you choose. Looks like the elm on the Common,
being "Ilex Quercus," a fine-leaved holly, but im-
mense in girth, and spreading widely. We came into
Hebron very cold and tired, and Luc. and I didn't
go with the men to see the wonders of the town, which
are not important, the associations being the chief
thing. The Hebronites are now a vile set. They
bought wine of Eshcol, made of grapes like that big
bunch, you know, and we found it delicious. There
were English camping there with whom we hob-
nobbed, but I won't write about them I think. So
Tuesday, we struck our tents, and came back over
the same road, for to get to Hebron you go south
a day from Jerusalem, then back on the same track
to uear Bethlehem, for which you diverge. . . . We
had a lovely day; it was warmer and the road beau-
tiful, looking that way. We lunched by the roadside,
inviting an amiable pedestrian to join us at that
meal, Rev. Mr. Wight of England. He has been in
Boston, and assisted Rev. Eastburn. Arthur Law-
rence is very lovely. He is studying to take orders,
— he is especially pleasant to travel with here, being
unaffectedly enthusiastic about the Scripture asso-
ciations. . . .
We reached Bethlehem early, in time to visit the
Church of the Nativity which pleased us very much.
The decoration is much simpler, and not so tawdry
as at Jerusalem, and how genuine seemed the place
hewn in the rock where Christ was born, — the
Manger — and the spot where the Magi stood. We
liked it very much. It is a pity to say so little of
52 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
it here. We were shown lots of other things in the
same building, — a church of St. Helena, — but this
was all that was very interesting. The town is up
an immensely high hill. We climbed up on our
horses, and then down paved streets exactly like
going downstairs, and wound down a long hillside
to our camp. Here we rejoiced in the delicious warm
weather, and were arrived early enough to bask about
before our tents.
Wednesday. — We came on to Marsaba a brief
excursion of three hours. Facing the Dead Sea all
the way, and through a country of ghastly barren-
ness, crossing a mountain-chain in fact, sometimes
very high, sometimes in deep valleys where green
fields are growing — everywhere flowers. Our camp
is very high, but in a kind of bowl between rugged
hills ; the last part of the way was like the most bar-
ren parts of Mount Washington; in one place, a
ridge between gulfs on either side. Arthur Lawrence
joined the Braces, our English friends, to come by
a longer way, seeing " the Frank Mountain." They
have not turned up; but their tents are pitched by
ours.
Jerusalem, Saturday a. m., April 11, 1868.
I stopped the account, dear folks, —
Wednesday, p. m., at Marsaba, I think. Now we
have got back here, but our pack-horses have not ar-
rived, so I am writing with the brief materials
afforded by the hotel. Why brother Hornstein, our
worthy host, has only mourning paper, I don't know.
I have cut it off the edges, but you'll find it in the
middle. Marsaba was a lurid place, a rocky pass
with two stone towers of the convent, and barren
hills humping up everywhere. After I stopped writ-
ing I gathered flowers and painted them. Arthur
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 53
Lawrence came back with the Bruces, and the men
went to see the inside of the convent (forbidden to
women), while Luc. and I philandered with Mrs.
Bruce, who is very pleasant and chatty. She sketches
about as much as you do, Edward, in a very pleasant
way, and had her tumbler of water and her paint-
brush by her side, and was just doing in her sky.
It was rather rainy, and after dinner the clouds shut
out the moon, which kept trying to come out. We
walked to a precipice overlooking the valley, wonder-
ful effects of gorge and chasm in the changing lights.
Thursday was A Day — to be marked with a white
stone. We were up really early and in the saddle
by six-thirty ; rode five hours to the shore of the Dead
Sea, a narrow path on the side of a gorge, sometimes
down in the bottom of the ravine, sometimes in peril-
ous places on a side hill, and finally out, three hours,
as in this somewhat crude view, to a splendid view
of the upper end of the Dead Sea with the Jordan
running into it! and the Mountains of Moab behind.
Then we came down into the flattest of valleys, barren
and desolate beyond measure, and were tantalised
by two hours riding before we reached the shore.
But near the water all is lovely, a kind of pink
heather grows- in profusion, and willow-tufted shrubs
and tall grasses, — and the sea itself a lovely soft
blue, plashes on the shore like any New England
lake and stretches off between lovely headlands,
sparkling and rippling in the sun, far to the south.
I don't know where the people are that talk about
the Ghastly Exhalations and all that. It was a
fearfully blazing hot s^,
noon (April 9 !). We ~^&- //rf*
sent off the horses
and had a bath — delicious!- -C. and Arthur L.
at a respectful distance. Luc. didn't venture, but
I had a rapturous time. Legs like this in swim-
54 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
ming — and floating on the back the perfection of
luxury. The water was just cool enough to refresh
without chilling, not flat and tame like a fresh-
water pond. We were warned to keep it out of
mouth and eyes, and succeeded pretty well, but the
taste is fearful. Rochelle Powder, potash, salt, mus-
tard, rotten-eggs, anything else vile you can think
of. After this we had a long and tedious ride over
a regular desert, flat barren sand, with the banks of
the Jordan very delusive in the distance, green but
far. Our two Bedouin escorts darted off on their
fleet steeds after a loose horse which they spent all
the afternoon in chasing. (It ended by his coming
into camp that night, so they made one horse by the
trip.) At last we reached the Jordan shore. A fast
whirling current with a steep cliff on the opposite
side, but on ours, a flat muddy bank, with delicious
trees and fresh spring verdure, tall reeds and birds
in the branches. Just like a New England stream
brawling along. We were tired and very hot; lunch
was refreshing; and naps after. After a suitable
interval we (all but Luc.) took a bath in the J
to counteract the Dead Sea, for by this time there
was an uncomfortable stinging, sticky sensation, and
our lips are actually blistered ! The Jordan plunge
was delicious — cooler than the sea and cleansing.
We had to be very careful about the current which
is immensely strong. You mustn't think we were
indifferent to its being really the Jordan and no
other river. We recalled
" So to the Jews old Canaan stood
And Jordan rolled between."
Also " When we our wearied limbs to rest," — but
found that was the Euphrates instead.
That night we pressed on, leaving the river,
to Riha, which is Jericho, and found our camp
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 55
pitched by the Brook Cherith, which was not dried
up, but babbling merrily, and the frogs ! making a
prodigious noise, like any Yankees. We forded the
stream, and found our tents with mouths open ready
for us; and the Bruces alongside already installed.
Tired enough and glad of dinner and bed. Yet we
saw the moon over the " Mountain of the Tempta-
tion " before we went to sleep.
Friday was our last day's march. We came by
Ain es-Suttan, which is the brook Elisha changed
to sweet from bitter; and sweet it is still, and up
through a gloomy mountain-pass, reaching Bethany
in the afternoon, and at night-fall our camp just
below the Garden of Gethsemane at the foot of the
Mount of Olives. It was a changing day, hot at first,
rain for a while, but on the whole we got very little
wetting ; not so many flowers as elsewhere. The path
we came is the one Dean Stanley thinks was the
triumphal Palm Sunday way. Jerusalem is beauti-
ful from that point. Even from our beds in the tent
we could see the Beautiful Gate and the wall of the
town. I had a jolly gallop ahead with the Bruces.
They are brother of Sir Frederick, who died at the
Tremont House, — and this one is The Bruce of
Scotland, now, whatever that may mean. They are
still in their camp outside the Damascus Gate.
This morning C. and Mr. Lawrence went into town
early; Luc. and I followed with Hassan, on our
horses; and found our same room ready for us and
a cordial greeting from the Hotel Serfs. It seems
quite homelike. You may have inferred there was
a gap since the beginning, for sitting down to write
was " the signal " as Susie Lesley says, for baggage,
washing, Charley and everything else to arrive.
Since then we have lunched and napped and the
gentlemen have been to see the " Greek Fire ' ' at the
Holy Sepulchre, which we did n't attempt on account
56 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
of the crush. Thej have got back after great success
with all their limbs and even garments whole; sur-
rounded by cawasses they kept a good place, and saw
the ceremony. I won't write at second-hand, hoping
Charley will himself; if not, I can tell when we
meet. . . . Seems lots of people are here, camping
or otherwise, dear Mr. de Lex, Rev. Mr. Davis, Rev.
Lansing, the Charles Amorys ; — all these are our
bosom friends. I heard Lord Ruthven sneezing in
the next room just now, and Lord and Lady Francis
Conyngham have No. 10.
Sunday morning. — Vague and mysterious signs
seem to indicate a mail, so I will get this off while
Luc. is preparing for church. At dawn I heard all
kinds of bells ringing and remembered it was Easter
in Jerusalem! . . .
To Miss Annie Atkinson
(Later Mrs. Richard M. Staigo)
Jerusalem, Easter, 1868.
dear annie, — I woke up just at daylight this
morning, and heard all kinds of bells ushering in
Easter; the streets were full of jabbering Moslems
and shuffling footsteps. I thought of you all at
home, and wondered who was dressing the church,
and remembered the way the lovely flowers smell as
we are arranging them. Is it not strange to be here
on this day? Yet there are so many un-Christian
influences, and the so-called Christian ones are so
far from our faith, that one might better be in the
middle of a desert. But for all that, it is Jerusalem,
the very scene with the very hills looking down on
it, where Christ "rose from the dead."
In the afternoon we walked out to Bethany, over
the Mount of Olives, and, for ourselves, imagined
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 57
where might be the spot where the disciple met the
Angel who said, "Ye men of Israel," or, "He is
not here, but risen/' I don't remember just the
words. You can't think how real and vivid it makes
the whole story to be in the very neighbourhood ; the
only wonder is that eighteen hundred years should
have passed and left so much as it was then. It
might have happened yesterday. We passed a great
flock of sheep following their shepherd, chirruping
to them and calling them along after him ; " for they
know his voice." There are no roads for carts, and
no wheeled vehicles at all, only foot-paths with the
people straying along by the fig trees and olive trees,
and " the lilies of the field."
April 15.
I have been interrupted, dear Annie, and now we
are all packed and ready for the start (on horses)
for Jaffa and back to Alexandria. We have been
to Hebron and the Jordan, and bathed in the Dead
Sea (it was splendid!), and to Bethlehem and Jeri-
cho. There have been plans of going to Nazareth
and the Sea of Galilee and even to Damascus, but
Luc. isn't quite up to so much horse, and though I
rather hanker after these places, I'm delighted to
have done so much, and besides I believe it makes
us sooner home,
I got your letter just before this trip. I'm very
glad to hear that Martha's engagement is really out.
It strikes me Margy and I don't deserve your praise
for our reticence. We were bursting with curiosity
all summer, and if we didn't pump you, it must
have been on account of your extreme picket-fend-
tude, if you '11 excuse the expression. Give my love
to Martha, and tell her I wish her all manner of
happiness, and moreover congratulate her on being
outside the Schoolmarm Phalanx. Now don't re-
58 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
sent this, my dear. It's all very well for you and
me, but for these young and fragile blossoms I think
highly of the Haven of Matrimony.
Truly yours,
Susie Hale.
To the Hale Family
Alexandria, May 21, 1868.
. . . Now you know I 've long wanted to ride a
camel, in fact was almost afraid to come home with-
out. They said, oh well, I could try it then; and
Hassan was directed to " call one of those Bedouins
with his camels." So this procession was led up to
the front of the piazza. They were coming from
carrying a load of stone, — empty. They unhitched
this middle one, made him kneel down, and I got
up. When he was kneeling, stomach to the ground,
it was as high a boost as mounting a donkey. Then
the Awful Thing began to undo his legs, and up, up,
I went, and found myself flying over the country at
a rattling pace, camel-man, Hassan, Virnard, all run-
ning to keep up. " Don't go so fast, 'stanne bess-
wesh ! " I cried. They slackened up a few minutes,
but the beast wanted to go ; I think the man wanted
to show him off ; and Hassan wanted to show me off.
It was really frightful. The hardest jouncingest old
cart-horse you ever were on is a cow to the motion.
You know this was a pack-camel, not a trained drome-
dary. Besides, they generally have saddles with a
pommel. I was sitting with my feet before me on
a sort of hurdle. My back hair came down; I had
to hold that on, and cling to this rope-work at once.
Suddenly, going very fast, the critter swerved round
a corner * * * My head came down pretty hard on
the sand, and it seemed a good while since I left the
top of the camel before I felt a crash like cracking
TO EGYPT AND THE HOLY LAND 59
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60
LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
a cocoanut with a hammer. Virnard rushed to lift
me — no harm done, no bones broken (but bruised
the meat). I was lying supported by V. in a pictur-
esque attitude, the camel meekly standing by with
two or three breadths of my dress (luckily) hanging
to him — and everybody rushing for restoratives.
Hassan as pale as the accident of his complexion
allows. Well, I'm very glad I've been to ride on
a camel, and I don't care to do it again. But then
a regular dromedary would be different. I really
wasn't even faint, only stunned rather, and bewil-
dered. They all " muched " me, and I was a heroine,
and lay on a couch with Cologne and Sherry and all
that, not at all in my line. A woman from a neigh-
bour was got over to sew up my gown. It took her
an hour and a half, — by which time, after after-
noon tea and more talk, it was time for us to take
the five-thirty return train. . . •
CHAPTEE III
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON
(1871-1872)
To Charles Hale
91 Boylston Street, Monday evening,
February 20, 1871.
dear charley, — You must know that I have
agreed to edit the newspaper of the French Fair,
which is to come off here April 10. There will be
six daily numbers. Think of my getting into an
Editorial chair! I wrote to Emma to put her up
to collecting me some trifles of a foreign nature, and
I hope you will feel like sending me cuttings from
papers not likely to reach here, and that, perhaps,
you will write something — with the flavour of your
chapters of our Nile novel, for example. I don't
mean to write at all myself if I can help it, that is,
to speak of, but to inspire all the distinguished to
write. I have just been to see Dan Curtis and Mrs.
about it, and they are very cordial, and promise to
be as funny as they can. But of course the danger
is that all outsiders will leave me in the lurch at the
last moment. I enclose a " circular " with particulars.
Now I want to tell you that the other evening I
met your friend Howells for the first time. I have
called on Mrs. H. once or twice but always missed
her. He has promised me " something " for my
newspaper. There is a great upheaving for this fair,
and everybody has got a table or an album or a col-
62 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
lection of some sort, and theatricals and private con-
certs have already been given to swell the proceeds.
Truly yours,
Susie.
History of a Long Day
(For You and Annie)
Boston, Sunday, March 19, 1871.
This day has been so long that it seems exactly as
if there had never been any other day; the annals
of my former life are like the evidences of a pre-
existent state. I have a general impression of being
born of poor but honest parents ; vague reminiscences
of a happy childhood, dim recollections after the
varied experiences mixed of joy and sorrow, com-
mon to any life, of settling down as a respectable
spinster into a solitary life; and at this point it is
that opens my Tale of To-day.
The house was perfectly tranquil, for it was, —
and is ! — Sunday. At quarter of nine I was going
upstairs to my bath with the loitering step fitted for
a day of utter leisure, when the door-bell rang.
Strange sound on Sunday. I pause upon the stairs,
with three towels over my arm, and soap and sponge
in my hands, u Well, Rebecca ? "
" A note for you, Marm."
" Thunder ! " Meanwhile I have been reading the
note. It is from Mrs. Hunt, who expects me to be
ready, at her house, at ten o'clock to drive to Milton
to spend the day.
It* is true that something had been said about it
ten days ago, but I had clean forgotten; otherwise
I should have invented an excuse. But now I am
at bay. The day is perfect ; a cloudless sky, a balmy
air, and the man waits below.
" Very well, there is no answer."
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 63
And no hope. I look through the begrimmed win-
dow of the bath-room, but there is no cloud not so
big as your hand ; so I must go.
Which very considerably changes the Programme.
There must be a rapid bath, and no soap ; a hurried
concoction of coffee, a hasty mastication of sausage,
and a hurried donning of one blue and green costume
bought upon the Boulevards in 1867. The elbows
are through; and there is mud upon the petticoat.
But at twenty minutes of ten, I stand at my open
front window ; and brush off the mud from the petti-
coat while waiting for that car.
That car (naiurellement) never comes. At five
minutes of ten I accept the alternative of pedestrian
locomotion, and rush off, after a tender farewell to
the cat and ample directions to Rebecca, on foot.
And I am glad of it, — for at the junction of
Clarendon and Commonwealth, voila! Mr. Appleton,
with the new dog, whose tail is curled up very tight
behind, and whose name is Pop.
So we walked out together to Mrs. Hunt's. At
the Hunt's door he left me, and Mr. Hunt took me
up. I need not have hurried or worried. Nothing
was ready; Mr. Hunt, in slippers, came to the door,
and Mrs. Hunt was nowhere. Bay came forward,
weeping, in her best blue silk, having fallen down
in a bed of clay, and expecting a scolding. My ap-
pearance averted this otherwise inevitable conse-
quence, and she retired to resume the same amuse-
ment under a mild reproof. I went to the piano and
tried new music; and in the intervals of a cigar,
Mr. Hunt came and talked.
At quarter of eleven, mirabile dictu, we were in
the carriage and off. The children were suppressed :
i. e., left at home with Anna. Mr. Hunt drove, with
Mike, in front; Mrs. Hunt and I were behind. . . .
We talked, and most pleasantly, and she had a roll
64 LETTERS OF SUSAN KALE
of old Mss. to read, in order to see if they would
do for " Balloon-Post " ; and most of them will,
admirably.
We drove round by Mrs. Sam Putnam's (some
miles out of the way), because Mrs. Hunt had a
message for her from Mrs. Julia Howe. While she
went in to deliver it, Mr. Hunt rushed the horses
up a steep, grassy slope, and through a winding
woodland to show me the lovely place, which by the
way has just been sold, and Mrs. Putnam and
Georgina are coming to town. What a sacrifice!
When we got back to the door, nothing would do
but that I should alight to see the lovely old house;
and after that, we settled down in the dining-room,
and were introduced to the eldest Miss Weston (of
the Chapman variety). . . . Mrs. Putnam is in-
tensely French; she talked and talked well for half
an hour on French politics; and we all sate there,
rooted, to listen to her, as if that were the object of
the expedition, and, in fact, of all life. Finally Wil-
liam, desperate, tore us away with an authority he
rarely uses; and we were once more on the road
again.
I don't pretend to say what time it was when we
arrived at "the Farm," nor to describe the loveli-
ness of day and of scene.
We went at once to the house, and "William"
hastily unpacking the dinner baskets seized hunches
of cold veal and bread, and rushed off at once to
Readville to see a horse. Mrs. Hunt and I concluded
we were not hungry, and started off to see the place.
It was a lovely day, perfectly warm and soft ; and
a perfect delight to wander about and see the points
of view, and hear the birds, and pick willow pussies.
We invaded the farm-house, and embarrassed the
inhabitants, and then came back to the house, and
proceeded to get lunch. I took the helm; ordered
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 65
"Mike' to bring hot water, seized the gridiron and
broiled the beef -steak on a lovely fire of logs already
piled up on the hearth. Mrs. Hunt was delighted,
and confessed she needed a guardian. We had nice
tea, delicious cream, and fresh eggs ; I may add, an
admirable steak, though my first.
Just as we were getting through, Judge Gray ap-
peared, on horseback. While he was putting away
his horse, we hastily cleared the table, and set it
again for him. I never saw a man eat so much. He
devoured everything, so that nothing was left for
Mr. Hunt.
By and by Mr. Hunt returned. He took Judge
Gray off to smoke, and Mrs. H. carried me to see
the upper rooms. Finally I left her at the top of
the house immersed in trunks ; and escaped from my
keepers found a lovely spot where I lay upon my
back under a pine-tree, looked at the blue sky, and
heard the birds. It was delicious; perfectly warm
in the sunshine.
Now came the indefatigable hostess, and we started
for another tour, passing the gentlemen who smoked
in a sunny dell. The idea seized Mrs. H. to go across
to the Brush Hill turnpike and call upon one Mr.
Foster, who has a conservatory; as we walked she
told me his history. It is a good half mile over walls,
up and down hill, but very pretty. When we reached
the house, Mr. Foster was out; but we went in and
saw the greenhouse ; — in it a wonderful red passion-
flower, and our dear pink cyclamen. After this we
called on another neighbour, Mrs. Greene, a lovely
lady, very handsome, of about sixty summers; and
here we fell into a long discussion of Heaven and the
future state, which was really interesting, but so
oddly placed. By this time, I began to feel like one
who dreamed.
Tearing ourselves away we climbed again the hills
66 LETTERS OF SUSAN KALE
towards home; and were by and by met by a little
boy who said that Misses Margaret and Fanny Forbes
were waiting for us at the house. No explanation
of this boy has ever been offered ; but I felt quite
intimate with him by the time we got back.
I am always delighted with these ladies ; we went
into the house to entertain them, and I talked, for
about this time Mrs. Hunt became distraite. " Wil-
liam " came in ravenous, and the man from the barn
brought him up a huge slice of rare beef, laid, sand-
wich fashion, on a slice of bread, which he devoured ;
and talked.
Misses Forbes urged us to come to their house, es-
pecially as they wanted me to see all Fanny Cunning-
ham's sketches of which they have possession for a
few clays. At last Mrs. Hunt said, " Well, you take
Susie home with you, and William and I will come
by and by."
Thus I found myself transferred to the back seat
of the Forbes Chariot, " the boy" being left with
the Hunts as a kind of hostage. We talked, heaven
knows what, things brilliant, let us hope ; and by and
by arrived at their dear house. Here I was permitted
warm water and a comb and brush, and pulled to-
gether as well as I could the holes in my elbows.
Miss Fanny and I walked well over this place, and
then I looked at a lot of sketches, all delightful, by
Mrs. Edw. Cunningham, taken chiefly in Mongolia!
and Japan.
By this, the sun had begun to set; a thing I had
ceased to believe possible to it, and we watched its
gorgeous departure, while I told them about Bret
Harte.
The Hunts arrived. We had a sweet tea of ex-
quisite materials, with a napkin across the loaf.
Then came prolonged partings; and we found our-
selves in the carriage. It was dark, and one of the
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 67
near hills was brilliant with a conflagration of burn-
ing brush.
Mrs. Hunt now roused up to delightful eloquence.
We talked steadily all the way to town, and she was
really enchanting.
We stopped at their house, for the horses ( !) were
tired. We went upstairs. The servants were warned
to inform us when a car came; it was not long, and
sweet Mr. Hunt hurried me into it.
"How soon do you start?" "Eleven min-
LI Ltyo* • • ■
Here I am, and here's the cat, and nothing has
happened. I 've lighted the fire and fed Sir Charles,
and written you this ; and now for the first time am
prepared to mention the time. 'Tis ten o'clock —
just twelve hours since the start.
To Charles Hale
91 Boylston Street, March 26, 1871.
dear chareey, — I have just got your splendidly
co-operative letter about " Balloon-Post " and hasten
to thank you. I hope " things " are on the way from
you, and feel abject that I haven't written oftener
to keep your fire bright. It would be too bad, were
it not that I am so intensely busy with the paper and
its involutions, though 't is very good fun. People
are most flattering about my undertaking it, and sub-
scribers pour in for the whole set, and lots of writers
have been most cordial in contributing, so really I
think it will be good. I shall take pride in mailing
you the numbers, and long to hear your comments.
I set to work by writing to, or attacking personally
all the people in the world I could think of, either
distinguished or otherwise, who would write well ;
the results are constant arrivals of articles; some, of
course, very poor, but some, very nice. Luc. is writ-
68 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
ing a series of imitations of Charles Eeade and other
authors, which will be very nice.. The " Charles
Reade" is delicious; I shall put it in the first
number.
The bother of all such things is the side issues,
which you never think of beforehand. First there
was a row because the Latin-School boys wanted to
edit the paper; and then wanted to have one of their
own besides. The committee very properly sup-
pressed this; but the boys had to be interviewed.
Then there was a fearful time about the head of
Louis Napoleon which perhaps you noticed in the
Daily. But the worst was in the Transcript ; a fool-
ish report got about that "Balloon-Post" was an
Imperialistic organ! and such a tempest in the tea-
pot arose! I had to fly round and write things for
Daily and Transcript, and contradict and deny till
I was most dead. People have not yet done saying,
"Miss Hale, is it true that you mean to have Louis
Napoleon/7 etc., etc. I got pretty mad about that.
Then, now, there has been a good deal of light skir-
mishing about my stall at the fair. Of course I must
have a place there to sell the paper; and an impres-
sion has obtained that it will be a very pleasant ren-
dezvous, quite a feature of the fair. Mrs. Wm. Hunt
is to help me, and Mrs. Brooks and various attractive
people. Now your friend, Charley Loring, is the
man who arranges all the tables, etc., on the floor.
How did you like him in Egypt, by the way? He
appears to me as obstinate as a mule ; and having a
fixed idea about my table which only gave room for
two people, he held to it persistently. I was per-
fectly meek, and yielded gracefully, when lo ! he came
round, and, somewhat gloomily, has given me the
very best place in the middle of the theatre, where
everybody must pass, going to and fro; and all will
be likely to pay toll in the shape of buying a number
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 69
of " Balloon-Post." All this takes a huge amount of
talking and writing. Oh ! and I forgot the time I
had about the vignette at the top ; getting Wm. Hunt
to design it, and Mr. Anthony to engrave it, which
Mr. Anthony said he would first, and afterwards
wrote a civil note, and said he would n't. He is the
head wood engraver of the Fields and Osgood firm,
and I flew at once to their shop, " interviewed " Mr.
Osgood to such effect, that he remonstrated with the
recusant Anthony, and brought him to terms. That
was a great piece of prowess.
The other evening I met Mr. E. W. Emerson, and
he promised me an original little poem. Won't that
be nice? Bret Harte promised me something, but
it don't yet turn up. However, there is yet a good
deal of time.
In all these trials J. Davis is very devoted, and an
admirable adviser. Charley Chase will only arrive
on the scene the week of the fair ; but he is so reliable
that we can rest calm in his behalf.
You see I am quite absorbed in my paper, but I
know you'll be interested. I wish you were going
to be here ; for although I shall be tired and doggled
I expect to have a good deal of fun out of it.
I hankered a little after the Novel of the Nile for
my paper; but it is really so long and so impossible
to abstract or condense, I think I won't try. People
will rather expect something oriental of me, but I
have really written nothing myself for the paper, I 've
been so busy with these other details.
Very truly yours,
Susie.
70 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Charles Hale
91 Boylston Street, Friday evening,
May 19, 1871.
dear Charley, — I have volumes to write to you,
but no time and backbone since the fair, which pretty
nearly used me up, and I took to my bed after it at
such intervals as I could. I 'm delighted you are
pleased with " B.-P.," and long to hear your separate
comments. Your first expression " ' Balloon-Post ' is
superb," was balm to my soul. Are not Lucretia's
things capital ? It was tremendous work, and I had
to be very sharp about it, for you see, in addition to
the editing, there was the selling, down at the fair;
and all the threads in my hands; people pestering
wTith their articles ; subscribers complaining that they
didn't get their papers, and so on. But Charley
Chase was splendid. What a cormorant a daily
paper is! It gobbled up all the stuff I had, though
I thought I had enough for a month. One reason
was that the " Committee " on advertisements rather
flashed in the pan, so that we did n't have half what
we ought to, to pay, but that made the reading all the
better. C. Chase went to Worcester every night : and
every morning alighting at the " Know Nothing '
station down here on Dartmouth Street, stopped here
at nine o'clock for a conference. I rose daily betimes
to write my leader, and had it ready for him ; I could
tell by a grim smile on his face whether he approved
of my flights. Then I gave him all the pabulum I
had for the evening number ; this was pretty much all
collected before the week began, subject to altera-
tions and new arrivals of stuff. Then he carried off
all this, and repaired to the printing-office. Thus you
see that he had all the charge of arranging the order
of articles; and, indeed, in some respects, didn't
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 71
exactly carry out my views; but this of course was
to be expected. Meantime I got through school, and
as soon as might be, repaired to the fair where my
affairs were attended to by five other ladies and my-
self. At about four-thirty or thereabouts, C. Chase
would turn up at the fair to announce that the num-
ber was all right; and at six, grimy little office boys
rushed in with great bundles of the fresh number,
eagerly pounced on by people waiting round till it
should come, and by our little news-boys (Arthur,
Johnny Homans, etc.), who seized them to sell about
the Hall. It was very popular and quite the success
of the fair, for everybody had to have it, of course,
good or bad ; and then everybody took it for granted
?t would be good. Ah ! 't was a great heik ! and glad
was I, and nearly dead, too, when 'twas over.
Now what do you think ? The success of " B.-P."
made such an eclat that Dutton of the Transcript has
engaged me to write for Tranny!! at $1,000 per
annum — what do you think \ I 'm most afraid to
tell you! I begin June 1, and the agreement is only
for six months at first, to see how it works. Lor!
what shall I write about? As yet, I have not one
idea! Think of my . . . well, I was going to use
a homely but forcible phrase, but I guess I won't as
you might be shocked.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia Hale
Tuesday noon, October 10, 1871.
dear luc, — Let the recess be long, and the fiends
remain long absent, for I have much to say. . . .
You did the right thing in going up. The
trees must be gorgeous, and I envy you some out-
doors possibilities. I must put in, Is it not dread-
ful about Chicago? What a pall hangs over our
72 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
thoughts remembering that perhaps it is always
going on. . . .
Well, my dear, last night I went to the opera!!
with the faithful Jamie Davis, and had such a time
as we had seeing "Martha" in Paris. Nilsson is
just Marguerite as invented by Goethe, and drawn
by Retzch. Singing, action perfect, and Capoul . . .
Not so lovely to look at as Mario, but very adorable,
and the taste would grow, like olives. They did it
so well that it was very painful, and I have to-day
the lowness of spirits one would feel after hearing
the real facts of an affair like that. The Mephis-
topheles was altogether too good. Gorgeous house.
C. and H. H. swelling round in full dress. I can't
get used to the modern expanse of shirt-bosom. This
is the impression received from a man nowadays.
Shirt, et praeterea nihil. . . .
Yrs.,
S.
To Miss Lucretia Hale
Monday morning, 1872.
Happy New Year!
. . . Think of my being drawn in again to do
jinks at the Women's Club with Mrs. Howe ! She
came and was so sweet. I do love her as always. I
dined at her house Friday to talk it over — such a
scattery dinner ! and Saturday p. m. we had it. . . .
But what I was got for was to do the Devil in
"Punch and Judy." Mrs. Howe's idea was good —
to he herself Punch, Mrs. Cheney, Judy. They had
a baby, of pillow, which they threw over into the
audience, and they had written out a dialogue bear-
ing on the times. You know, Woman's Rights and
all that, which was rather clever. Mrs. Howe looked
just like Punch, with a hump, and I rouged the end
of her nose a little; . . . After Judy was killed, I
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 73
came up, and we had (Punch and I) an aesthetic
talk about the underworld, planned by her, which
was rather funny, with references to Dr. Hedge,
Abbot, O. B. Frothingham, etc.; but I want to de-
scribe my get-up, which was superb, studied after the
Mephisto of Faust. Your bashlik, the point made
to stand up, fastened closely round face; two red
sugar-plum horns pinned on for horns; my red-
flannel shirt put on over gown ; lots of rouge, and eye-
brows corked as in sketch. I kept dancing up and
down with upraised arms; they said I looked very
handsome; guess I did. . . . The performance
closed, as it generally now does, with " Coming
through the Rye," by me. . . .
Yrs.,
SlJSE.
To Miss Ltjcretia Hale
Recess, Tuesday, January #, 1878.
dear luc, — I have just been digesting your splen-
did long letter; and, though 'tis madness to begin
with the children expected back all the time, must
seize the afflatus of the moment. . . .
I think the new "Alice" is better than the old.
Of course the tendency is to think it is not ; but the
fact that the idea don't come freshly on us makes
it necessary for it to be better in order to be good
at all. The first rose must have driven the first
smeller perfectly wild, but every rose since has smelt
just as well. Excuse floweriness. But the back-
wards conception, — the going the other way when
you want to get there, — the Knights checking each
other, are higher flights than anything in the first,
and pictures are more and lovelier; I think it is
splendid. . . . The more I read the new " Alice,"
the better I like it. That picture, the two pictures
of shaking the Red Queen into the Kitten are heav-
74 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
enly. I think the fight between the Knights is per-
fectly enchanting, with the picture, and that account
of the White Knight's Horse. " There were not
likely to Be Mice, but if there were he did n't choose
to have them running about." Oh! I feel so, read-
ing that book. How lovely to meet again the Haigha
in his new form. What could be better than the
conversation with Humpty-Dumpty ? The cravat that
might be a Belt. I begin to think it is far superior
to the . . .
My dear, yesterday p. m. I staggered out, cold and
all, to attend dear Dr. Hedge at King's Chapel, and
oddly enough sate cheek by jowl with Almira Dewey
in a strange pewey. Dr. H. very interesting, but
made me feel bad because I can't go with him in his
unf aith in the Miracles. It was about what he calls
the "Myths" of the Gospel, and J. T. S., A. and
Miss S., in a pew before me, kept grinning at each
other like demons rejoicing in gaining a Mind. But
afterwards I met the dear boy, and he came here
and made me a sweet visit, conversing pleasantly
with' Cats, who sported with that Runx1 and came
out quite well. . . .
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Boston, January 16, 1872.
dear mart, — Forgive me, if I grow more and
more to contemplate you and Annie and Lucretia
as a remote and indistinct mass of Nebulous Matter
constantly demanding food for reflection from the
Source of Light and Heat. Lucretia retains a sort
of separate individuality, to be sure, by virtue of her
sororal relations, but as far as life is concerned, I
hurl my missiles indiscriminately. As you wrote
recently, I will aim this at you. Might begin by
1 Word for Uncle in the Cat language.
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 75
thanking you for the account of your Brain Ball;
of course I was dying to hear all about it, it must
have been capital. Required a good deal of nerve
to do a thing which was all in the execution, and
could be nothing in the preparation; but that's the
sort our sort likes.
Now, in this town, you have to putter over a thing,
even the slightest, a month. The powers that evolved
the cabbage apple-pie in the morning, and executed
it in the evening, are here unknown quantities.
So for a fortnight, we have been talking and pre-
paring for Lizzie Homans' Brain Club ; and it came
off last night.
It is over — it has rattled itself off like a horse-
car on time, as irrevocably and irretrap-ably (ad-
mire this word coined for the exigencies of Horse-
car-ity). I am now about to tell you about it.
You '11 swoon at how elaborate it was, and yet spite
of my recent remarks, elaboration tells; particu-
larly on the average mind.
We did " The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman "
(and several people asked afterwards if one of us
(and which one!) wrote it on purpose for this occa-
sion!). If you remember the original footnotes at
the end are very funny, so we introduced them.
Dodge played on the piano, Dr. John Homans sang ;
when they came to a note the music stopped, and
Mrs. Julia Howe, draped like a Greek chorus, with
a laurel wreath (made by me) on her brow, read it.
At the end she blew a whistle, and the Song was
resumed. H. Wild was Lord Bateman, in a black
curling wig, trunk hose, and red tights. Jerry Abbot
was the proud young porter, and I, even I, was
Sophia. We had no scenery, only accessories set on
and off the stage by supes, as they were wanted.
In the beginning, where Lord Bateman enters, we
had a little ship in a glass case, which wound up
76 LETTEKS OF SUSAN KALE
and pitched and tossed. It is now time to remark
that I was simply lovely, got up with every Eastern
allure that native experience could suggest, and bor-
rowed opulence, provide. I had a regular stuffed tur-
ban— to look the conventional oriental, not the real
— with a lovely sparkling thing in front. I braided
my hair at the sides, painted my eyebrows a little
blacker, and tipped the outer corners of my eyes.
Rouge, of course. Then I had full trousers made
of Lizzie's old yellow silk. A sort of apron before,
and one behind, of that purple and gold broad scarf
I brought home. My gold belt, very small at the
waist; an Eastern sleeveless jacket of black, red and
gold, with full white muslin sleeves to the elbow;
throat open, and white waist showing below the
jacket; endless necklaces and chains and bracelets
and beads. Lord Bateman presented me, the day
before, with a sparkling brooch (price 25 cents prob-
ably at Salom's) and the proud young porter sent
me two necklaces of gold and pearl beads. I had
white shoes embroidered with gold. The effect of
the foot is infinitely becoming, for the trouser droops
behind and relieves the ankle in front. Well, we
had big keys and chains, and wine and all that,
and the parting of B. and S. was very good. Re-
member that Boston has not seen any Ballad, ex-
cept " Lochinvar " two years ago by the same Corps
Dramatique.
At " Seven long years were past and gone," Sophia
comes in very weary with carpet-bag and Arab
blanket — Eastern bashlik over other costume. Looks
at numbers till finds Lord Bateman's, rings loud
bell. Jerry Abbot, in a false nose with a huge
bouquet at button-hole, appears. I ask if Lord Bate-
man is within, you know, he replies, " Yes," and my
countenance assumes raptures. He goes on, " He 's
just now taking his young bride in." My face
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 77
changes — I fall in a rigid swoon on his arm.
Pause in the singing, and Dodge played minor sev-
enths for a few pathetic
moments, till I came to.
This was my great coup.
EllenFrothingham and
youngest Burnham were
bride's mother and bride.
H. Wild had a splendid
great sword which he
broke in three. The
bride and b.'s mother are
led off by porter. Then
Dodge played the Lovers'
music from "Faust," and
H. Wild did a scene by
himself, full of senti-
mental emotion at the thought of seeing Sophia.
Jerrv leads me in, we rush forward and are lost at
the footlights in a wild embrace. . . .
Pas de trois, by Lord B., Sophia and the porter.
Pas seul, by Sophia, regular ballet style. Ditto, by
Lord B. with castanets; ditto, comic, by porter. I
get up on footstool, they support, and — Curtain.
You must fancy the pauses for the solemn reading
of the notes in Sister Howe's musical monotone.
They thought it was awfully funny. Mary
Dorr thinks, "On the whole it was the funniest
thing which has ever been done in Boston." This
is strong as we can't answer for the Pilgrim
Fathers, for who knows what they may have done for
larks ?
That sweet dear boy, Nat. Childs (who was Juliette
to Ned Bowditch's Komeo), began the evening by
reciting a touching Irish narrative, called " Shamus
O'Brien." I dare say you've read it. And after
the Ballad, with his face blacked for a darky, he did
78 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
a " Song and Dance," two, in fact. Lovely tenor
songs with double shuffle, etc., between. He did it
exquisitely. He is as graceful as a fawn ; and Lizzie
dotes on that sport ; but I hate the niggeryness of it,
and was sorry I had allowed it, as of course he did
it to please me. But it was good, as being discipline
for the club, who didn't quite know what to make
of it.
Meanwhile I came out, got my compliments, and
lor, what a fuss they made about my looks, — all
so surprised I could look so well. The dress got
praised as being so genuinely Eastern, which was
rather strong, as the turban was an anomaly, which
Ayusha would have repudiated, and the trousers were
Lizzie's old gown; but no matter, I got to believe
I really looked Eastern, and I did. The whole effect
was just like those critters at Assiout. Charles and
Edward and Emily were there; Dr. Hedge and
Carrie ; Dr. Shurtleff and Annie Bursley ; the Guilds.
Quite a crowd of my particulars, not to mention Mr.
Appleton, J. Davis, and more modern admirers. We
stayed to sit-down champagne and duck supper. So
did Charley. We were quite jolly.
Yours,
Suse.
To Miss Luceetia Hale
Tuesday Morgen, Jan. 23, 1872.
dear luceetia, — ... You will observe that
the flesh is weak. The reason is that last evening
I attended our German Club at Clover Hooper's.
My dear, it was great fun, but intensely exhausting.
Twenty-four members, male and female, and nothing
but German talked. Mr. Siedhof present, but not
presiding ; no method, only conversation, with a brief
interval of " put in a word." Almost all, really, talk
more than I, which is not saying much; but almost
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 79
all have lived two or three years in Germany, and
speak fluently — like my French — with a good
sprinkling of " Zo ! " and " gans genug " and all that,
though even I could perceive their verbs disagreeing
with their subjects, and their adjectives quite adverse
from their nouns. Still I think it quite a remarkable
Gesellschaft. . . .
But the strain on the brain! Exactly, my dear,
which you can comprehend alone, the depleted state
we were in after the Barthow spree at Aix. The
listening so hard to verstehen was more fatiguing
than the replies. We had a nice supper, sitting
round, but still in German. Oh ! I was so limp
when it was over I could hardly get home, and fell
upon the pillow in a kind of syncope.
Our Nieberg Class meets to-day at two. I 'm sure
on my tomb will not long hence be read :
" She is dead,
but she understands German.
Her last words were
Auf wiederselien!" (In script.)
Yours,
Suse.
To Miss Luceetia Hale
Thursday morning, May *2, 1872.
(These months have different names, but are
all just alike, cold and raw and rheumatizzy .)
dear luc, — ... Yesterday p. m. I had a great
tooth dragged out, and staggered home to bed at
seven o'clock, whence I have just risen, toothless and
painless, but with a tendency to swoon unless propped
up against something. Of course the tooth had been
aching fiercely for twenty-four hours previous. It
is now to be hoped that that particular tooth will dis-
appear from the pages of history, or, at least, of my
80 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
biography. Mines of Golconda, forests of India rub-
ber, miles of gutta-percha have been sunk in it. The
talent of Hitchcock and a thousand previous dentists
have spent themselves upon that tooth ever since I
first opened my mouth before the operating-chair.
Yet whenever there was a March wind, and I was
particularly unfitted to encounter a face-ache, it
began. It was at last totally useless — and came
out finally in three pieces, with a good deal of
yanking. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Charles Hale
Saturday morning, May 11, 1872.
dear charley, — . . . Now, my dear, you ask
me about my plans, and I am about to spring them
on you, so get your salt-bottle and prepare to hear
amazing things.
I 've got to give up my rooms here ! ! Dr. Leach's
lease is up. Hie leaves. House gutted, changed to
big boarding-house. I not wanted. Now this breaks
up my class a good deal as that depends upon local-
ity. It is odious to hunt up rooms. I am relieved
July 1, of course, from paying rent. . . .
I think of spending a year in Germany ! ! !
My idea is to go out say September 15. Not travel
at all. Spend the winter in some cheap town (Stutt-
gart is suggested, for reasons), and take lessons in
water-colours. Come back, September, 1873, and
give lessons in water-colours, on the strength of the
skill and prestige I have acquired. Now don't you
think it is a good plan ? Everybody does to whom I
have mentioned it. I should spend next summer in
some picturesque place (south of France), where I
could make good sketches to show when I got home.
... I have told Edward, and he approves. . . .
TEACHING SCHOOL IN BOSTON 81
So if you see any let or hindrance speak now, or
forever after hold your peace — for I am amenable
to kind treatment — and, if any better plan can be
suggested for my immediate future, am willing to
adopt it. I think there is no doubt I can live on six
hundred dollars, or less, at Stuttgart, say, and I have
enough besides to pay my passage both ways. I
should think I could, and I should like it, correspond
for some newspaper, and tell how many francs it
costs to have garlic in your washing, which would be
lucrative. I should n't wonder also if I fell in with
some lucrative occupation there ; at any rate, the rest
and variety would set me up immensely.
Write your views. . . .
Always yours,
Susie.
CHAPTEK IV
Studying art in Europe — Accompanied by the
Misses Bursley and Miss Harriet James, after-
wards Mrs. John C. Bancroft.
(1872-1873)
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
Paris, Hotel Liverpool, rue Castiglione,
October 1, 1812.
dear lttcretia, — Volumes, of course, and no true
place to begin. So busy in London, and so tired
at night that it was impossible to write, so my nar-
rative is far behindhand.
To-day, I have your letter. What rapture — but
the first from you I did not get, in London, pish!
though Baring had continual hot drafts at his
J-t^t?L» • • •
I keep thinking of so many little side-things to tell
you, that I think I must devote this sheet to them,
and begin my regular narrative on another, although
I long to record all of our interesting sight-seeing in
London.
But think, my dear, of my actually being here in
sweet Paris. I do love it, so much more than Lon-
don, and feel so much more at home with the sweet
French than with the English, whose cockney con-
versation I really could not make out so well as this
French. My hair, however, is now dressed upon a
true English model, which I shall adhere to till I
have sufficiently studied the French one to go into
tnat/. . . .
STUDYING AKT IN EUEOPE 83
Narrative {of London)
I believe I left off last Wednesday p.m. What
ages ago it seems! . . .
Thursday after breakfast Annie and I started off
to find B. F. Stevens, 17 Henrietta Street, Covent
Garden, W. C, that address burnt in upon my
brain and stamped upon all my memorandum books,
through directing thither things for Charles. Imag-
ine my feelings at seeing the familiar words staring
at me from the corner of a house, and very near
Stevens's sign.
Stevens proved to be a love, as you will see by the
Sequel. He kept reminding me of J. Aug. Johnson,
— a little, in his appearance, but chiefly, in his ex-
tremely cordial way of making us have a good time.
He asked our plans at once, took right hold and
thought up what we had better do and see, and laid
out a programme for all the rest of our time in Lon-
don, part of which he proposed to share himself. It
was very nice, and Annie and I came home in great
elation ; but first he walked with us through Covent
Garden Market, an enchanting place full of flowers
and fruit, and such a variety of vegetables unknown
to us, as to make one for the first time understand
the Institution of "Green Grocers." I bought a
little bunch of sweet English violets for twopence,
and a bag full of plums and grapes for nothing at
all to speak of ; and Annie bought shrimps, which we
afterwards got the maid to show us how to eat, which
she did, through opening them with a pin, and break-
ing off some of their legs and biting off others. Very
good. . . . Westminster Abbey interesting, but rather
in the Louvre line ; a delicious guide, in a black gown,
as if he were a minister, who showed everything in
the richest cockney, which I shall imitate for a Brain
Club. Don't tell, but all abbeys are just alike (I
84 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
have seen two). However, the English History is in-
tensely interesting, and Carrie and I, especially, are
constantly looking up all the points and reminding
each other of them. It is interesting to stand by the
Tomb of Edward the Confessor, also to see Mary
Queen of Scots and Elizabeth really lying on their
backs in the same building, with nothing but a chapel
between.
But I should like to take these things on full gal-
lop, instead of dawdling along gaping at them. I
get fearfully tired, and a very little Abbey goes a
long way with me. ... In the evening I went with
Mr. Stevens to Co vent Garden Theatre. Saw a deli-
cious fairy-piece by Boucicault. All the others
backed out, which was unwise, for I had a splendid
time. Stage changing all the time, like that thing
we saw in Paris. Only the English are so English,
and even the fairies had their front-hair spatted down
as mine is at present.
Friday, we had such a good day. Mr. Stevens met
us in the coffee-room and we went to the river, di-
rectly behind our hotel, where we took a penny boat
(steam) down the Thames to London Bridge. A
foggy, murky day — the towers of St. Paul's dim
and vague against the Yellow Cotton Wool, called sky
by the ignorant English; passed Somerset House;
saw water-men, evidently from Dickens, fishing for
dead bodies and the like. We landed at London
Bridge and went through odd, crooked streets, all
with histories and associations we recognised, pointed
out by Stevens. Through Billingsgate Market, where
every kind of fish was lying, where the smell was not
of roses, and roughs yelled at each other, and a man
poked at Carrie with an old fish-knife. So we came
to the Tower, where an old beef-eater took us in
custody, and expounded matters. (See "Murray's
Guide.") The historical places are very interesting,
STUDYING AET IN EUROPE 85
and many make your blood run cold. To see the
Water-Gate and the Traitor's Gate ! — and the
very spot where Ann Boleyn had her head cut off.
We think English children have immense advantages
for learning these things, and envy the governesses
who can point their morals by taking pupils to the
spot. But they take delight at all these places in con-
cealing the most interesting points, and showing ever-
lastingly stupid things. At the Tower some idiot
has taken all the old bits of swords and firearms left
over after fights, and made them into sort of worsted-
patterns, flowers and things on the wall ; and you get
fearfully tired of them, but the guide is so fond of
them, that he lingers over them far more than
" Jane," cut in the wall of his prison, by Lord Guild-
ford Dudley!
There was a truly grey cat out in the yard, and a
raven that I liked about as well as anything, and
ivy on the walls, and the air was very sweet and
sunny in the old courtyard. Mr. Stevens left us at
the Moorsgate Street Station of the underground
railway — and off we went through tunnels and
worms-eye ways to Gower Street, where we got out
and walked down a long street to the British Museum.
Terrible great place. Impossible, of course, to do
it justice. The thing, for me, my dear, of course,
was to see the tablet of Abydos on the wall, like a
piece of the Puzzle Map, lost alas ! to the dear Egyp-
tians. There it was — and the "Murray" says,
" This is of but trifling interest to any but the archae-
ologist." I liked it. Lots of Ramses there. It made
me mad to see them uprooted from their natural soil,
which becomes them so much better than this British
Roof. Elgin Marbles : very much knocked to pieces,
and, of course, modern to us. The books one could
do nothing about in one glimpse like that. I thought
of Edward revelling there day after day.
86 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Annie and I sent the other girls home by a short-
cut carefully explained to them on the Map, — and
we took a long course up Oxford Street and home
by Eegent Street and Pall Mall. This was about
the only chance I had to shop. We went to Rowney's,
— delicious ! — and I bought two squeeze tubes.
Winsor and Newton's was too far off; but Rowney
is meme chose; there were water-colours there, and
every mouth-watering material of Art. Paint-box
like mine, such as Maud hankers for, for about $8.00.
Home late and shrecklich tired and footsore, and to
bed at eight o'clock.
Saturday, I went round by Stevens's to leave the
little parcel for you and Charlie. Carrie was with
me, and then we walked down to Prout's, Strand,
where we met the other girls, and all went to St.
Paul's. A service was going on, and we heard a
choir of boys intone the creed and things. Very high,
as also was the Whispering Gallery, which we after-
wards visited. Then we went out to the Crystal
Palace, where we had a high old frolic. It is such
a gay place. Saturday is the popular day, and chil-
dren were rushing about blowing tin trumpets, eating
buns. It reminded me of the Exhibition, Lucretia,
because we did the same way — ate things at a res-
taurant; heard two concerts', lead by Hullah; were
weighed in a kind of chair (I weighed 138% ; gained
half a pound ! ) ; saw the picture-gallery, aquarium,
tree-ferns; bought nougat, wandered in the grounds
— got to the Low-Level Station and found our re-
turn tickets were High-Level, and had to go miles
back again. All this, railway tickets included, for
2s. ! — except what we ate.
We came back to Victoria Station. ... I took
cab and hurried home, dressed and got to dine at the
Rodman's at six-thirty. Very cosy little dinner with
much chat; they had tried for theatre tickets to see
STUDYING AET IN EUEOPE 87
"Money," the crack thing; but all were engaged for
a week. They sail for home the 17th Oct. Mr. and
Mrs. S. K. Lothrop arrived in London that day! I
saw them not ; Rodmans told me. Home in cab — so
convenient — only a shilling. It is not the thing
for ladies to ride in a "Hansom," which broke my
heart. Dare say I should have done it, if left to
myself, but no matter.
Now Sunday was our sweetest but most deadly
day. Walked to the Foundling Hospital Service in
the Chapel by six hundred children. Fearful stupid
sermon. I kept thinking how Edward would have
preached to those children and not at them like this
man, whose sermon was (I really believe it wasn't,
though) " The sins of the fathers shall be visited
upon the children." After the service, Mr. Stevens
(again!) met us, and showed us the little things
eating — their beds and all that — most touching;
in a glass case, the little souvenirs found when they
come, pinned on them (ever since 1600) to identify
them! Lovely grounds outside.
Railway (with Stevens) from Waterloo Station to
Hampton Court. It was lovely weather — have we
not been lucky ! — and the grounds were simply en-
chanting! and the Court itself the most attractive
old place I have seen. Reeks with Henry VIII,
etc. We passed many hours there. Then, think of
this, were rowed in a boat, down to Surbiton, a sta-
tion nearer London. This was the best of all the
things we did. The lovely river — exactly like pic-
tures by Mrs. S. C. Hall — men punt-fishing in
chairs, lovers in boats, cows on the shore ! I shall
never forget it — all in the sunset light. We left
Stevens at Surbiton and took train for London.
Weary evening packing. . . . To bed at twelve and
up at six in the morning.
Monday, sl fearful heik getting off. . . . My dear !
88 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
the Channel was smooth as a lamb ! None of us were
sick, although you would have been, for some were,
— but we sate on the highest deck and watched the
Cliffs of Dover recede, and La belle France come into
sight. It was a long and very tiring ride from
Calais; but we had very funny companions, and de-
lighted in their French, an old woman with the gout,
and a cat in a basket; — and a voluble little lady
who told me her whole history. Capital practice.
My French works admirably, though 'tis fearful
stuff. The train was late; after dark when we
reached Paris; and I don't see how I lived through
getting the baggage and all that, tired as I was; but
we reached here at last. Our apartment is charming.
Good-bye.
Your loving Suse.
To Miss Lucbetia P. Hale
338 rue St. Honore, Paris,
Monday evening, October *28, 1872.
dear creche, — . . . My dear, the James Lowells
are here! and I am having the sweetest time with
them. Mary Lodge told me their address, which
was right on my way home from my lesson, so I
stopped there to see them, and found them very
cordial, especially James, and they made me come
and breakfast with them the next day. They are
living very near the river, and not far from here in
a quiet hotel where there is a table d'hote. I arrived
to breakfast at ten, and found James waiting for me ;
the table d'hote is in a room just on the Rue; soon
Mrs. L. came down, and we had a very enchantingly
pleasant talk, also rognons sautees, chops and fruit.
Mr. Lowell is very funny about talking the French,
— and the dishes. He kept saying, " Now, Susie,
this is the nicest thing that has happened, that you
STUDYING AKT IN EUROPE 89
are here while we are." He is perfectly happy, root-
ing in book stalls for all the books in Old French that
exist, and having them elegantly bound, cheap. They
are living with economy, and he wants to stay all
winter, and she never wants to go home. I went up
to their salon, and stayed till twelve, he monologued
while smoking; there was a little fire, flowers in a
pot, and Mrs. L. had her sewing. It was very nice,
and, besides, James was so sunny and genial; read
extracts from letters about Carlyle, talked of old
times, etc. I am to keep going again. Is it not an
odd chance?
That's that; now here's this. Hatty and I went
to Theatre Frangais Saturday night! My knees
knocked under me a little as I went to buy my tickets,
in the afternoon ; but the odd thing is that a woman
keeps the box-office, overlooked by a gendarme. No
difficulty at all — and after dinner Hatty and I just
dropped down to the theatre, next door to Palais
Royal, on foot, walked up and took our seats, which
were in " the family circle," as we should say, for
cheapness — perfectly respectable, and surrounded
by decorous French of both sexes. Do you remem-
ber the polite ladies in caps who tend the boxes and
tickets ? It was hot and close — but such bliss —
" The Cid " ! and exactly like Rachel, only her part
omitted, of course. I enjoyed every minute. . . .
So French ! — but such exquisite French, such enun-
ciation, far superior to that of the shops. Perfectly
good acting throughout. Do you know, there's no
bell for the curtain, but three thumps with a kind of
hammer, which made all the people in the pit turn
round from ogling about like a picture in the Illus-
trated London News, and settle themselves to the
play. No orchestra, nor music.
I should like to go every night. It was not over
till eleven, and even then the " Precieuses Ridicules "
90 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
was to follow ; but I thought Hatty had had enough ;
and it was a shade late, so we came out and quietly
walked home through St. Honore Street, rang the
bell, the big door swung open, and we rushed up to
narrate our adventures. The other girls were afraid
to go; but now we have proved it can be done, we
shall take a loge next time, which holds six, and costs
fourteen francs — less than our seats, which were
three francs each. It is so easy to do this here, for
nobody stares at you at all, and the streets are full
of women (of respectability) at all hours. Perhaps
it is just as well, however, not to yawp much about
our going alone, as it may be considered loose in
America. All our French friends here think it per-
fectly comme il faut, and seem not to know what we
mean when we doubt about going without a man.
The fact is the women have got the upper hand en-
tirely in this town — and the men are of no im-
portance at all; Jules makes the beds and Madame
scolds him.
The next thing was a Heavenly Concert yesterday
p. m. to which I went all alone, for the girls had not
got their steam on. I had the most delicious time.
An orchestral concert of the largest orchestra in the
world; they played 5th Symphony, Traumerei of
Schumann, the Oberon overture, and a Mendelssohn
thing. In future we shall all always go, for they are
every Sunday. I find out about these things by talk-
ing with Madame Leviss, who is Herst's other Sieve
on Cours days ; I think she is very high in the social
scale, though her hair is ill arranged. . . .
Paeis, November 9.
We are beginning to pull out the bolts and let our-
selves down from this blissful Parisian life, where-
upon despair falls upon me, for I hate to stir, and
still more to plan stirring. We shall be here all next
STUDYING AET IN EUROPE 91
week, and till Wednesday of the next ; and if I were
alone, I should float on till a week from Tuesday
and then skedaddle (I think you have this word,
have you not ?) — but that won't do; of course there
is oceans of farewell visiting to do — and winding-up
in general, and endless discussing of routes and the
like. I shall take my last lesson of Herst next Sat-
urday. He says, " He has never parted from any one
with so much regret," — % flattery, if not %, but
he is very good to me — and I have immensely en-
joyed the lessons. Long to show you the things he
and I have done. . . .
Just as I came out into the rue, an omnibus came
by — pas complet, so I sprang in, without that prayer
and fasting which should chasten the mind before
risking it in a French omnibus. " Correspondance
pour la Place Vendome" I said to the man, and he
took it calmly. I paid six sous, and he gave me a
little square ticket. We rode vast distances and
crossed bridges and passed fountains, and exchanged
whole cargoes of passengers at different places, still
he said not to get out till I reached Place de Chatelet.
(Pitch-dark, you observe.) Here I alighted, and
went in to the Bureau and said again, " Correspond-
ance pour la Place Vendome" which worked again,
for the man gave me a round thing. I went back to
the side-walk, but how the divil (this is a quotation)
was I to know what omnibus to take, for they were
rushing by as thick as the flies in Spates's dining-
room. I soon got a great facility in reading the
labels — and when one came that said " Rue Rivoli,"
I thought I would risk myself on that. A whole
joule of bonnes in caps, old gents and ouvriers were
of the same mind. We crowded up to the omnibus,
the Guard yawped, " Nobody but ' 47 : can come
into this Bus." An old woman darted forward and
showed " 47 ' on her round ticket, and got in.
92 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
" 48 ! " Then " 48 " got in. I was " 50," and mine
was the last seat! and lots had to wait for other
omnibuses. I gave him my round thing, which he
seemed to expect, and got in and was having a very
pleasant little ride in the dark when I perceived
there was a great jangling of bells in the Bus, and
the Guard was yawping that somebody hadn't paid,
and after a great deal of gabbling it turned out it was
me! Then all the people turned and rent me and
said, "Ah, Madame, vous navez pas de Correspond-
ance" and I said I did have correspondance and then
the Guard got very mad, and there was a buzzing of
voices and all pitching into me and " Correspondance
— pondance — pondance !" resounded. Then I made
my first Maiden speech before a French Audience
and told them all exactly where I got in and
what I had done — and then they all said, " Oh !
she left her ticket at the Bureau ! " Seems I ought
to have kepi the square thing I got in the first bus,
— whereas I thought I was to exchange it for the
round thing!!! "Ah oui, certainement" I replied,
and pretended to think that settled the whole thing
— but the Guard continued to grumble, so I asked
him if he still expected me to pay and what sum, and
gave him six sous over again, murmuring something
about the cruelty to " voler the strangers." I think
the sentiment of the house was with me, and my
neighbours spoke soothing words. This skirmish took
so much time that we soon reached rue d' Alger, and
I left the Bus — showing the difficulties in managing
les correspondences. But you know, now, I think
I know how to do it ; and what I really think is, that
if you get into any omnibus in any street going
either way, it will take you where you want to go,
if you give it time. . . .
All the Parisian women go about with neat petti-
coats of black moreen just to the tops of their boots.
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 93
Then they hold or hitch their dresses quite out of
sight. They are either with a flounce or not, trimmed
with rows of black velvet ribbon or not. I have just
got one, — to wear instead of any kind of crinoline
except a bustle at the top. I think it is the neatest,
sweetest fashion for a long time. No French woman
dreams of letting her skirts drag in the mud or dust,
and you can tell them from the Americans in a
minute by this difference. Black moreen, and really
short, not very full; mine is flounced behind, but
smooth in front. . . .
By Jingo! — excuse me — but it just strikes me
that though I have written to Edward since, I have
not told you about dining at Sophia's and going to
the theatre, — have I ? That was Monday. I don't
believe I have written you since Sunday. Mercy!
Well, Miss Whitwell asked Susan, Hatty and me to
dine and go to the theatre with her and Horatio. We
went to the Gymnase. Saw first, " Je dine chez ma
mere," and then , simply the most tremendous
play of sentiment you never saw, utterly impossible
in English. Quite improper because so intense. But
so well acted. The man is a cold-blooded kind of
, the woman, a passionate, conscientious, plain
woman! How French to have her not handsome.
There 's a love scene — We — No use talking
about it. Fancy one of Cherbuliez novels, or even
M. de Camois, acted out on the stage. I never got
wrought up — in the same manner — by acting.
Simply, the people were the people they imperson-
ated. It was just as bad and exciting, not vulgar
or coarse, as it could be. " La Gueule du Loup," a
new play with a great run. . . .
I don't mention much a running fire of calls from
Mrs. Ritchie and James Lowell and Charles Dorr
and Homans's and ainsi de suite, because I am not
here to catalogue Americans; but it all takes time
94 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
and complicates the getting away. James Lowell is
always lovely ; I must breakfast there once more. . . .
Good-bye.
Yrs.,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Paris, 1872.
. . . Sunday morning I breakfasted at the James
Lowells' again, and with dear Mr. R. W. Emerson,
who is there — very beaming, and meekly lending
himself to claret for breakfast. He is with his
daughter, Ellen Emerson. Lots of love from
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
388 rue St. Honore, Thursday, p. m.,
November 14, 187u2.
dear lucretia, — We have been so upset by the
news of the Boston Eire, that for a day or two it
seemed impossible to write or do anything as we had
been ; and we are all very impatient for details, which
we cannot get even till we are at Weimar; for we
shall leave here before those mails can arrive. Mean-
while I try to persuade myself that the accounts are
exaggerated, and that if anything very dreadful had
happened, you would telegraph. We have to sup-
pose that Mr. Fessenden's Store is gone in Federal
Street ; but that by no means implies the loss of his
fortune. The girls think their important papers were
all there; but we hope there was time to get them
out. You see we knew nothing about the horse9
till after we heard about the fire. All came in a
day; . . .
Well, Monday after my lesson, Susan and I started
off to wipe out calls, and went to the 's, who,
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 95
confound them, had left their card on me in call-
ing on the B.'s. We met Mrs. just coming out.
" Of course you have heard/' she said, but we had n't ;
and had to endure her rambling and incoherent ac-
count that All Boston was in flames, but it was no
consequence as the house in Beacon Street was
still standing. We flew as soon as we got rid of her
to the Legation, rue Chaillot, near by (near the
Arc), and there Col. Hoffman was very kind and
sympathetic. I have not seen him before, though
he has called here three times! He showed me the
latest telegram, — the fire had just broke out again — ■
and told us that we could probably at nine o'clock
get the Times with more news. We stopped at the
Homans's coming home, and found them bursting
with all they had heard at Munroe's, etc., and they
told us of Bowles Brothers' failure. You can im-
agine the ferment of all the Americans here. Ladies
going for money and finding Bowles closed. Are we
not glad we are not with them — though they soothe
us by saying All the Bankers are shaky.
We flew home and found none of the party had
heard about the fire. Hatty rushed down to Sophia's
to hear what they knew — the Whitwells — and, in
fact, they have lost lots of money, and Horatio has
had a telegram. There are many private telegrams,
and crowds of people are sent for home. We had
a gloomy dinner at our Cafe. It was raining hard.
But Carrie and I had bought our tickets for the
Theatre Franc, ais, and we. thought it foolish not to
go — so we kept on and enjoyed it immensely, al-
though every time the curtain was down our thoughts
went back to Boston. Col. Hoffman said, " It seems
there was something the matter with the horses " —
but that sounded so like a French canard that I took
no interest in it. But next day we had our letters and
several papers. Only think, Edward says, " In case
96 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
of iire the engines will be manned by men again
as in old times," etc. How dreadful about the horses !
. . . All that day and yesterday we could not do
much but go to banks and Galignani's; oh, Monday
evening at nine, the girls sent Jules up to the Kiosk
at the Grand Hotel; and he brought back the Times
with, a column of telegraphs from Philadelphia, very
interesting, but we hope exaggerated. Yesterday
Charles Dorr came round to talk about it, and see
how we felt, and cheer us up. I thought it was very
pleasant of him. He seems to think he has heavy
losses. When I got to the Atelier Tuesday morning
M. Herst met me full of interest, — you see every-
body hears of it, — and I had to explain the thing
in Erench — in fact, I understand it better in French
than English, all about the laine cru that was in the
Magazins de Gros, and tout cela. And Tuesday eve-
ning Herst called again to console. It 's a lie to say
that we were absorbed by it yesterday, for we had
many other things to do and did them. After my
lesson, I had a lovely breakfast at the Lowells'.
James was very entertaining, and so was Mr. Holmes,
who had commanded an immense quantity of French
oysters (raw) in my honour. So the breakfast began
with that, and they are very good, which is odd, for
they taste exactly like copper cents soaked in sea-
water. J. R. L. says the reason is that the oysters
feed on little boys wearing copper-toed shoes, who
have been drowned in their vicinity. We also had
delicious Chablis to drink which was Mr. Holmes's
treat; and then rognons sautees and chops. Mr.
Holmes (you know it is brother to Dr. O. W. H.)
and James Lowell were full of Jack, chaffing each
other and going on, and it was very nice. I stayed
a long time — and agreed (not really) to go up the
Nile with them, as their Dragoman, next winter.
My dear, it was snowing when I came away, or soon
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 97
after, and as cold as Greenland and Raw as the Beef
Fullum used to buy for He. I went round by " Au
Louvre ' ' and bought me a little paletot for forty-two
francs. I don't like it very well — but I had to get
something. My idea was to put off a thick coat to
buy in Leipsic, for I don't think the Parisians under-
stand the subject. . . .
Always yours,
Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Frau Biber's Erfurte-strasse, Tuesday
evening, December 3, 1872.
dear lucretia — ... Perhaps the most won-
derful moment yet of our travels was this p. m. when
I bade good-bye to Hatty at the corner of Schiller-
strasse (having previously put Susan into a droshky,
— kissed Carrie and Annie, — paid the bill and
" tipped" the waiters) and walked off with my
waterproof over my arm, and my umbrella in my
hand, to my new Wohnung. . . . When I got here
I crossed my bridge, and the nice stout Dutch Magd
came out and let me into my room, where a fire
was in the stove and the sun shining in very
pleasantly. . . .
All the time we were learning our way about
Weimar, and here I must tell about it, for you have
no idea how pretty it is. We were at the hotel on
a Platz called Der Markt. . . . Oh! wonder! the
other side is a huge paved place with the Schloss
on it — that is the Castle where the Herzog lives ! !
Oh! dear! I can't make you know how it looks,
for, of course, you won't believe it really looks like
this, just within a stone's throw of where I've
been living a week, and that I hear the clock strike
all the hours and halves and quarters, and that the
98 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Duke's band was playing the " Tannhauser " while
we were packing this morning! Now this Schloss
■kind of backs up on the town, but looks forth on a
broad and lovely park with the Ilm running through
it, — and here we can walk continually. The Ilm
is so like the Ashuelot that it might be it, winding
through that wild country over by West Mountain,
— for the Park is not like the Public Garden, but
wilder than Uncle Tom Lee's woods, only a great
deal larger and with graceful bridges, arched, of
stone, across the river — oh, it's as large as Brook-
line — you can walk miles in it. Sunday was a
warm spring-like day, with the frost coming out of
the ground ; Annie and I walked long in these wind-
ing paths, and plucked little English daisies still in
bloom. There is lovely sketching there — old trees
with green moss on their trunks, stones and arches,
and running water. Who could have thought it
would be so lovely. The Rathhaus is a pretentious
ornamented building, and in front of it is the broad
Marht — it is all very still here — paved with hobbly-
stones and next to no side-walks ; and there are in
all Weimar almost as few horses as Jerusalem (which,
indeed, it looks like, only clean). But when we had
been here several days, Susan called out to me one
morning as I was dressing, "Look out of window,
Susie " ; there I beheld the whole place alive and
swarming with the Market, which comes only twice
a week. We went out and prowled about it. It was
so exactly like a scene on the stage, that when the
band on the balcony of the Rathhaus began to play,
we felt as if we must take an attitude and begin to
sing. The women sate in long rows with absurd
things to sell, like the Cairo shops, only more like
a German picture-book. I bought a gingerbread bar,
and a writing-book, and two apples; and laughed,
and tried to talk, with the jolly women. The most
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 99
dreadful thing (to look at), which they had to sell,
was in a barrel, and was pink cabbages with a great
deal of juice. They dipped up the red juice in dip-
pers and poured it into Seltzer jugs for those who
wished to buy. They sold lovely flowers, but also
wreaths and crosses made out of dyed immortelles
and worked in with paper roses. There are two
bunches of them in this room. Most of the women
had live geese sitting by them, and there were a great
many dogs. Wasn't that singular? What surprises
me more and more about travellers is that they bear
up so well under the strangeness of these things, and
bravely avoid mentioning them, while they confine
themselves to the price of food.
Another morning, about nine o'clock, we looked
out of window, and saw a band in uniform forming
themselves in a large circle under the hotel windows.
They played for half an hour most lovely music.
When we went down to breakfast we asked what it
meant, and they said, " Oh it was in honour of the
Mayor of the town. His sister dwells in the hotel,
so this band comes often to play before her." . . .
In the evening we went to the " Meistersinger,"
which was delightful; the orchestra is splendid, and
I enjoyed the music immensely, although it needs
several hearings. It was very well acted, in an un-
affected kind of way, as if the singers sought not
to glorify themselves, but the music they were ren-
dering, entirely different from the display of Italian
Stars. I can't give you the sort of feeling I had, as
if any body in Weimar would have been willing to
get up and help, and could have done it — that is,
partly because the language is the vernacular, and
because all the scenery and chairs and tables were
just like the real ones. In one street scene there
straggled in a little girl at the back, quite in keeping
as to costume and all that, so that I thought she was
100 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
part of the opera; but she was only a Weimar child
that had dropped in, I suppose, to see how her par-
ents were getting along.
I must n't write such volumes ; and yet I must !
Yesterday morning I took my first painting-lesson,
and lor! it is very funny. Professor Hummel is
very much, to look at, like Dr. Hedge; and he has
his "Atelier" as he calls it, all about in two little
parlours. When I went in, so found I two ladies
puttering away, and a gentleman with his neatly
prepared drawing-board painting. (Wouldn't Ed-
ward like it!) He proved to be the Prussian Am-
bassador; for you must know that there is an Am-
bassador from Prussia to this small Court, which is
much, I should think, like having an Ambassador
from Vermont in Delaware. They are all under the
Kaiser, but they do a little "ambassing" among them-
selves. Well, he is a handsome man, a little like
Nathan, very hoflich, and pretended he thought I
was German; my Deutsch was so good. However,
he had then heard very little. The Professor had got
me a table and copy all fixed out, and I sate down
to copy a study of Rocks in Sepia. Alas, dear Herst !
this man's method is totally different, and so old-
fashioned and arriere! To copy every darned line
in pencil before the colour ! !
Of course, I did it so perfectly well that the little
man was staggered — for he asked me first if it was
" zu schwer" and was a little nettled when I told
him I thought not; but he had to acknowledge that
I zeichnete sehr wohl, und besser als die Damen
gewohnlich ; however, he succeeded in picking out a
small place where I hadn't drawn it just like the
copy ; so got India rubber, and had me rub that part
out and do it over again ! ! He is a worthy little
man, with only the natural antagonism, in which I
entirely sympathise with him, against anybody who
STUDYING AET IN EUKOPE 101
does pretty well to begin with. I have a private
impression that with Herst's lights, I could teach
him a great deal more than he can me; but I don't
want you to let on to any one this, only let it be
known that I am taking of the Best teacher in
Weimar, which means the Best in Germany ; for this
is what they really all say; I don't feel at all as if
I were wasting time, as I don't in the least object
to going for once through the conventional routine.
Of course I don't really think I know more than he
does, — and he works extremely well in his own way
— but alas, Herst ! he looked at my brushes — sniffed
at all, especially at the apple of Herst's eye (which
he gave me as if it were his heart's blood on account
of its fine point) — and said they were none of them
small enough ( ! ! ) and is now buying me smaller
ones to putter with. And, my dear, what do you
think one of the Frauleins was doing? Tracing a
group of Ludwig Richter's figures, yes, with thin
paper ! — blacking the back, and then marking it
on to a wooden box — how Nelly would scorn her!
— and then " the Professor " came and sandpapered
the box himself where the black had crocked it!
Funny to see Dr. Hedge sitting and rubbing old
sandpaper on a box, and having that called "High
Art " ! The Professor himself is painting away on a
great allegoric oil-picture with temples and cactuses
in it — and he sits smoking and painting, but occa-
sionally starts up and takes the tour of the rooms,
tells me to make more lines, tells the Gesandte that
Hooker's green won't do for his T annen-trees , sand-
papers the box, etc., etc. It must be just like Mr.
D.'s classes. But in the midst he went off and had
Fruhstuch in the next room with his family. Evi-
dently there was company ; for we heard much clank-
ing of forks and talking, — and the Gesandte kept
groaning at the long breakfast, because he had got
102 LETTEKS OF SITSAE" HALE
stuck. The Professor popped in his head from time
to time, criticised all, and went back to his Fruh-
stuch. His small son was in the room, eating prezels
and things, and came and proffered me two roast
chestnuts. That 's all about that. . . . Write like
dragons.
Yrs.,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
and
Charles Hale
Weimar, Saxe, Germany, Sunday morning,
December 15, 1872.
dear lucretia and charles, — " Brief e, Brief e,
gnddiges Fraulein," calls the stout Elise, apparently
in the middle of the night, and I come with alacrity
out of my singular little bed, and find that it is really
nine o'clock and beginning to be light, and that fire
and coffee and letters are waiting. To wit: yours
of Thanksgiving Day, and Charley's brief enclosing
one. . . .
I am getting more or less settled, but am not yet
in routine, which I very much wish to establish, for
at present things are conducted much in the hurry-
skurry method of 91 Boylston Street. It seemed a
fatality to be dressing for the Von Gross spree in
wild haste, and hooking up that black silk, as it
always is fastened, with desperate inattention, while
searching for gloves and seizing handkerchief. The
days are very short, — and you see it makes more to
do when you wish to sacrifice much to the language.
I consider that I am " fattening" the time when I
am merely talking with my sweet little Frau Biber.
She is so nice. Is it not nice that she is nice ? The
Germans use " nette " a great deal. It corresponds
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 103
to " gentil" in French, and "nice" in English.
Laux! this German — it is fearfully hard. But I
must concentrate.
I don't think you understand about my Singular
Bed. It is so small that our Single Beds in Brookline
were Giants to it. In fact it has occurred to me to
say that while those were single, this is single-er. Do
you recall the furniture in wooden boxes, particularly
one set I had in the Baby House. It was the very
bed that Sealingwax had in her room at Mrs. Winder^
mere's, until her father, Charles, made another bed
out of cigar-box, with dark-green cotton velvet glued
on it, for her. Then it was moved down into Nut-
ting's room. Well that is my bed ; and there is also
a washstand just like the washstand that came with
that. There is a very good mattress in this little
trough, slanted up at the head. Then a wobbly pil-
low with red ticking and no pillow-case. Then there
is a thick quilted comforter, which has white cotton
buttoned round it, so that the under side is white,
and the top looks like this — Well % —
Well, — don't you see that big (.) there ? That is
all! That is all the bed arrangement, — except the
Poultice or Eider-down Thing which is the size of
the Bed, but which no feller can sleep under without
being turned to jelly. The Bed is never made up at
all; that is I find this red thing neatly folded up
on the foot of the entirely bare bed. Then must I
tuck it in all round, or it falls off in the course of
the night, which is why I always wear my purple
dressing-gown to bed, and such other clothing as the
weather seems to require. . . .
But I must tell about the party at the Von Gross's.
I think it was made for me ; but nobody exactly says
so, and I don't know whether they take it for granted
that such was the case or not. Anyhow I got myself
up with! my best back hair, black silk, and three-
104 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
buttoned gloves (ours are the only ones in Weimar),
and at eight with a somewhat low heart I repaired
to the spot. Frau Biber was invited, but she never
goes anywhere. The Van G.'s live an premier.
Numerous servants in white chokers threw open
doors, and a neat maid, in a small room full of rows
of pegs, took my things and hung them on the same.
It is a series of rooms en etage, and reminded me so
of our Alexandria parties. I shook hands with Herr
and Frau von G. and was introduced to Fraulein
von G., sister to Herr, a very plain, German-looking
woman of forty, perhaps, dressed in a green satin,
quite flat behind, but sumptuous. Everybody that
came in asked to be introduced to me, and I talked
in German with them ; among others were three gen-
tlemen, whom we had always seen at the table d'hote
at the hotel, and I thought it spoke well for the ele-
gance of foreign manners that they all sprang forward
and asked Frau von G. to introduce them to me, as if
they wished thus to sanctify the slight nodding ac-
quaintance. One was an Englishman of a rather
ordinary type, another, an Old Wig of great impor-
tance in Weimar, and the third, a Heavenly Officer in
great gold epaulettes from Altona. With all of these
I talked and exulted in showing the Englishman
(whom I despise) how fast my German has got on.
My dear, I was introduced to at least twenty-five
Germans, — most of them sort of Kays and Tods like
the Alexandria people. The pleasantest was Herr
Berlow who is the Editor of the Weimar Zeitung,
but a Great Man, with an order in his coat; then
there was a grey little man who I think is literary,
for he talked about Longfellow, and was pretty well
up on our country. They all declare that Greeley
is dead, and that they have read about his funeral.
There were different rooms, and there seemed to
be a sort of order of progression, for Herr von G.
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 105
kept coming and poking me up, and putting me in
another room. They sate round a table in each
room, and at each I was introduced to the circle,
and then held forth (in German!) to the circle, fall-
ing afterwards into talk with my next neighbour.
You must know that the Erb-Prinz has just started
for Egypt, and so I have a great card in my Egyp-
tian Reise, — for they look with peculiar interest on
that subject. To ascend the Pyramids and describe
the Camel in German ! They are more amazed here
than in America — and Egypt really seems here far-
ther off — for most of the people here have never
been in Leipsic — which is two hours off by railway,
— and as for Paris ! — nobody. They think I am a
furchtbarre Reiserinn. . . .
My other piece de resistance, of course, is the Von
Gersdorffs, and I hold forth about them to all these
people — and also the Boston Fire, and whether the
Von Gersdorffs were probably burnt up in it. . . .
Well, I was talking to a very gabble-tonguey man who
was very illegible, when there was kind of a move
made, — as if for supper, and Gabble Tongue offered
his arm, — and we stood up, but hung back, — for
Precedence, of course; but it soon appeared that I
was expected ; and in another room we found a little
table set with eight plates only, and I was motioned
to one end, while Fraulein von G. took the other.
We sat as by cut:
. Fraulein V. Gross
Herr?
Frau?
Herr Gabble
Tongue?
Bottle
of wine
Herr?
Frau?
Herr Berlow
me
The conversation was general at first, but my men
both talked to me. At last when they were all jab-
106 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
bering together I couldn't follow at all — very be-
wildering. We had salad and pate de foie g. handed
round — but pray don't think anything tastes or looks
as at home ! — and afterwards ice-cream, and white
and red wine, and tumblers of lager beer, constantly
replenished. Meanwhile all the others sat about the
other tables, and were fed, but from trays with plates
brought to them, I think, as in America. Ours was
the only previously set table.
By and by all pushed back their chairs, and then
all bowed and curtseyed to each other and said a little
Pater Foster of some sort. It was just like balance
to corners and turn, for they shook hands with each,
and then went to another. I supposed we were all
going home, but, on the contrary, after they got over
doing it to everybody, the spree went on. Was it not
singular and alarming ? Pretty soon everybody began
to go. I made my adieux, had a few sweet words
with my officer, found Elise below, and walked home
with her. Forgot to say that tea was constantly
handed round all the time and strange kinds of little
CJrlKCo. ...
Lots of love — and merry Christmas, if this comes
in time.
Your Susie.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Weimar, Wednesday evening,
December 18, 1872.
my dear mary, — In this dreadful land, every
moment not devoted to the fearful language is a
waste of time; and, therefore, every English letter
a wicked indulgence, but I am about to plunge my-
self in that dissipation, for my Soul has been going
out to you through the cracks of irregular German
verbs for some time, — in fact, at intervals ever since
STUDYING AKT IN EUROPE 107
I received your letter, which, it was angelic to write
and most refreshing to receive. Go and do likewise.
In Weimar, I think of George's comment on Min-
nesota,— it would be easy to tell them what the
fashions were three years hence. They don't wear
big hoops, because big hoops have not yet come to
them, and their dresses are long, — not because Mrs.
Gordon Dexter draggles hers, but because they have
never been short. They speak of Beads as a fashion
to come. If I knew the German for it I should say,
" Good Lord, my dears, I have just been through with
that, and luckily have brought a few."
But you don't want to hear about Weimar fashions,
— only I thought of George. And is it not curious,
when they are so near dear delightful Paris, that
they are so in the dark concerning her habits ? It 's
very like some little boys that have caught a Bull in
a rabbit-trap. They don't darst to go near him, and
they leave him out in the barn where they found him,
but they think it's very fine all the same to have a
Caught Bull. Excuse the mixed nature of this
simile. If I hadn't forgotten the English expres-
sions, I would make it better. We had Hare for
dinner to-day (speaking of Bulls). He was served
skinned but roasted, with his little back bone and
hind legs. Awful good ! So is Beer-soup, sweet, with
cinnamon in it.
I take it for granted that you get snatches of my
letters from time to time, and are therefore aware of
my being, doing, and suffering (grammar again !
psh ! ) . I ought to have written you from Paris, for
I thought of you there very often, and it was very
blissful to be there so long, and to talk their lovely
idle language, which, as it seems, in comparison with
this terrific tongue,
" Gentlier on the spirit lies
Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes."
108 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
I believe all my correspondents will think I make
a most uncommon fuss about this German language,
and upon my word, I will say no more about it.
Mind, I've got it, now, so that I can do everything
in it, and am the wonder of Weimar for my Fort-
schritt; but I continue to think it's damned hard.
So is my Bed; and I hate them both. Everything
else in Germany I like, and when I get used to the
above exceptions I '11 let you know.
Weimar is the Keene of Germany. I keep saying
to myself, " There now that is just like Keene." So
select, so self-possessed, aesthetic, and small, and yet
it is not like Keene to have a regular wind-mill up
on a hill behind the house, and a Schloss with tin,
I mean real, soldiers, standing in front all the time,
and a theatre. But would it not be good fun to have
a theatre in Keene ? Your father, now, might set
up a theatre. This belongs to the Grand Duke, and
he pays the salaries of all the actors and -tresses.
Naturally he has it all his own way, and naturally
also the price of tickets is small. Is it not ridiculous
that I have a season ticket ? I and one of the other
girls. The tickets are brought to this house every
morning, with the Zettel, which means play-bill, and
the bill for Sunday has the plays for the week at the
bottom. . . .
There's another respect that makes Weimar like
Keene! Men are skurce! The popular report says
forty-five single females and three men. Strangely
like Brookline, also! But no one would think it to
see the prachtige epaulettes every evening at the
theatre. However, I am told that these come over
from Erfurt where there is a camp, ... or some-
thing,— just as good, I should think, for practical
purposes. The Grand Duke is not very good to flirt
with, because you can't get at him. It 's rather mel-
ancholy about his daughters; they are very liebens-
STUDYING AET IN EUROPE 109
wurdig, and have good broad German backs and not
uncomely faces, — the oldest is twenty-five, — they
can't possibly be married, my dear, because there is
nobody in the world of the right rank for them.
Is n't that hard ? You see it is perfectly well known,
for, of course, they have their Gotha Almanacs every
year, with all the first families printed down in it;
and a husband can't be born all of a sudden to them,
because now he would be too young. Is it not just
like Old Maid when only two are playing ? Of course
you know exactly when you 've got the card. Some-
body's wife might die, to be sure, and there is an old
cove about sixty-nine years old, who has just lost
his fourth wife, the Prince of Hockenpockenhaus or
something, but Princess Elizabeth wont marry him.
So even she has refused somebody! The princesses
can't go out alone, and they can't mix even with the
Court circle familiarly. They have all their clothes
from Paris, and their Papa, the Grand Duke, him-
self, lays out every day the dress he thinks proper
for them to wear. I don't know whether they decide
about their own stockings or not.
To return to the men ; it 's very well that my days
of heeding that sex are over, I encounter so few of
them. I have established a passing weakness for an
officer from Altona who was at the hotel ; and after-
wards became introduced to me at a party. I am
told he is " munter" and he is very tall with lovely,
lovely epaulettes. I can't help wishing to be em-
braced by him to see where they would bump, — but
as yet he is rather afraid of me and my German, I
fear.
Good-bye, my dear Mary, I must fix my hair for
the opera. Don't show this letter to too many, for
it is silly, on purpose, partly to relax my German
mind, and partly to make you laugh, which I wish
I could hear and see von do it. If I conclude to send
110 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
for Lucretia and live here always you will come and
visit us, won't you ? Meantime write.
Your always remembering,
Susie Hale.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Merry Christmas!
Weimar, December *25, 1872.
Lord ! Pardon, my dear Lucretia, the strength of
the expression. It seems justified, as I hope you
will agree later, by the occasion.
You see the Biber Christmas, in this house, was
all knocked in the head, because Gertrud has the
measles. No sooner was this known in Weimar than
all were aroused to be sure I did not lose my Christ-
mas. First Frau Hummel (wife of the Professor)
asked me to come to their family tree. When I got
home, I found Frau Hettstedt, who lives up-stairs,
had asked me to her tree ; and it turned out she felt
so dreadfully bad at my not coming that it was ar-
ranged I should go first to that tree and the Hummel
tree afterwards. Then sweet Aunt Manderode came
and asked me to their tree, which, of course, I
couldn't; so am to dine there to-day, instead, and
Frau von Gross would have invited me to her tree if
she hadn't understood, etc., etc. The Waitz family
hoped I would come to their tree, and the Feltz
family were sorry I couldn't come to their tree.
My dear, every human being has a tree. It makes
no difference whether there are children in the
family.
The market-place and principal streets have been
full for a day or two of Tannenbanms leaning up
against the houses. I should think the whole Thur-
ingian Forest would be laid waste to supply Weimar
alone. The girls were to go out at six to seven last
STUDYING AET IN EUEOPE 111
evening and walk along the streets to see a tree in
every house — a pretty sight; but my engagements
didn't permit. . . .
I got myself up richly in my Vigogne, with pink
bows, and at six went up to the Hettstedts'. She, you
know, is the leading lady at the theatre, and he is
the Warren (and last Sunday evening in a burlesque
danced the " Cachucha ' in a short pink satin with
black lace; stuffed to be fatter than Mrs. Jarley),
but Frau H. is a very refined little woman, and I
think is a little sensitive about her spouse's position.
Off the stage he is very pleasant, and kind of pathetic,
because she snubs him a little mite. They have a
son Emile, fourteen years old, and he had a friend
present at the tree. No one else was there when I
arrived, but soon in came, with great noise and laugh-
ter, Fr. Loth and Fr. Something-else, both Schau-
spielerinne in the theatre, the first a prominent one
that plays the young heroine. It was kind of a B
H set, don't you see, only that in Weimar, they
lose no caste at all by being actors. It ?s as if I and
Nat. Childs ran the Globe and continued to dine with
Mrs. John Lowell. Both these Frauleins had short
frowsly hair, though on the stage they have every
sort of postiche and chignon to suit the part. They
were a little rantipole, and said, "Ach! du lieber
GottP even more than the Manderodes and Bibers.
In a little while the tree was ready, and it was
sweet pretty; but they did not pretend to look at it
much; in fact, there had been no concealment; for
the boys themselves had geputzt it, and there was no
locking of doors and bursting in. It looked just like
our trees ; although Frl. Ludt said, " Of course in
America you can have only imitation Tannenbaums,"
thinking that the American trees all grow of paste-
board. The tree had lights and balls and candy on
it ; and the presents for each were set about on tables.
112 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
I think Emile had seen his before. Herr H. appar-
ently had none. The Frauleins had sweet things laid
out for them. I thought them rather rude; for
though they cried, " Ach! du lieber GottP and " wun-
derschbn" they said generally that they had got the
things before. Fran Hi. looked at her pile with in-
terest. She had a black moreen petticoat and a fire-
rug; — and a pen wiper made out of a little black
doll, and dressed gaudily, which they all thought
was " reizend" and a bottle of " Rancher "pulver"
which you sprinkle on their stoves to partially avert
a kind of burnt iron smell inherent in their natures.
Were not these touching things? More, but in the
same sort.
Now they brought out champagne, of which we
drank a good deal — and ate Pfefferkuchen and little
cakes cut out in odd shapes, cocks and dogs, men, etc.
I had to leave before Tisch, which occurred later. I
had a great deal of talk with Frl. Loth. She reads
English novels with great gout. You 've no idea how
hard it is to understand their English words. She
said she liked very much "Ai dotto Roovecht," but
she didn't exactly understand the meaning of the
title. I made her repeat it frequently, and finally
leaped upon "A daughter of Heth," — which was
right, — and I explained to her about Heth being
in the Old Testament, a work which, doubtless, she
has not carefully perused in any language. Well, we
parted with expressions of mutual esteem, and I
hasted to the Hummel occasion, where I was to be
at eight sharp. As I reached the house I heard a
great uproar, and it turned out that the Grand-
mother's tree was not quite done with, so I was in-
vited in to that, although previously only by the Frau
Professorin. The Grandmother lives unter; and
there was great jinks going on. Hatty James was
there. A tree just like the Hettstedts' — but all the
STUDYING AKT IN EUEOPE 113
presents in piles, just like our New Year's, and all
the Verwandten screaming and carrying on, exactly
as we used to ; how it reminded me of it.
" See my lovely Kragen! " — " Have you seen my
pile % " " Look at this Brioche, the Grossmutter
made it selbst" — all at the top of their lungs. It
is so nice of them to have such touching things. Each
of the Frauleins had a new gown, Merino, nicely
trimmed, and Johanna had made and trimmed a hat,
black velvet with a rose for Gustel — and the boy
that goes next week to Leipsic, whence he will only
come back next Christmas for the holidays (it is two
hours by the train ! ) had a trunk ; and new trousers
and a knife, and six pocket-handkerchiefs marked in
red. Everybody had a packet of Pfefferkuchen, —
and there was no end of worsted-work. My dear,
there is not a horizontal line in Germany that
has n't got a lambrequin on it ! Were they not sweet
things? and the family were all so sweet to Hatty
and me, " Liebe Miss Hale, have you seen my Korb
that Tante Anna gave me ? ' Can you live to hear
that there was a fly-flapper embroidered out of the
Bazaar ? In that snipped-out flannel of different
colours, with sewing-silk gestickt style. It's just as
we always said; they live and move and have their
being in the Bazaar.
Soon we walked off and left that tree (oh, the Help
came in, one woman, and the girls quietly gave her
her things, just like us ! — a collar and sleeves, and
apron, etc.) and went up-stairs to the Professor
Hummel house — and here was another tree. The
funny thing is that they don't themselves take the
slightest notice of the Tree; and when we politely
stand back and praise it, they say, " Oh, yes, I sup-
pose you don't have them in America," much as if
we should break out in admiration of the side of
a house. Fact is the Germans have no politeness.
114 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
I find it a fearful misfortune that they cannot lie,
under any pressure of circumstances. It might be
said that their constant use of " reizend' and
u wunder sch'on" was an exception; but I'm confi-
dent that these words have no more real force than
"rather pretty" with us. But they were all in a
hurry to see their piles, for each had here another
pile. I don't know exactly how this was managed,
but I guess these piles were what Mr. and Mrs. Pro-
fessor gave. But we can't get on farther without a
Genealogy.
Downstairs lives:
Grossmutter Hummel, cet. 80! with her two
Grandchildren, Johanna, cet. 27 (teaches Hatty
German), and Gustel, cet. 21.
Up-stairs lives:
Professor Hummel, son to G. Mutter, with his
Frau, his son, Karl, 15, and his son Wilhelm, 6.
Guests :
1. Erau Harkmudt, sister to Frau, cet. 55.
2. Her son ( ?) cet. 21, and 3. ( ?) cet. 17.
4. Frau Red-nose (I don't know her other name),
also sister to Frau, cet. 52.
5. Her daughter Anna, 26, betrothed to
6. Herr Schmit, who sat next her at table often
with his arm round her waist with no concealment,
and who was always addressed and spoken of as der
Brautigam !
7. Frau Generalin , another sister to Frau,
cet. 60, and more gorgeous, with rather fine manners.
8. I most forgot old Grossmutter Harkmudt,
very shaky, who sate beside the other Grossmutter.
Harkmudt himself is deceased.
There, I think I 've got them pretty well. Harriet
and I were nine and ten, and besides I have not
STUDYING AKT IN EUEOPE 115
numbered the family. You see it made a goodly
crowd. Bless me, I 've forgotten " The Frommenac,"
who is bosom friend to Johanny Hummel and the
most conspicuous of all. I thought her odious. She
has been the leading singer in opera here, but has
now retired to heirathen. A stout, noisy, short-
haired person who talked fearfully loud. But they
all screamed, and all talked at once. So did we, I
remember, at Thanksgivings. They all called her
"die Frommenac" thus: " Ach! du lieber Gott! die
Frommenac! Sie muss ein bischen mehr Gurke!"
I 've got ahead of myself and to Tiscli, which was
wrong; because that omits the sweet Professor pre-
senting me, with a bow and pretty speech, Ludwig
Richter's "Summer" — wasn't it lovely! and to
Harriet, a box of bonbons. He himself had lots
of outside things. A liqueur-stand, the image of
Charley's, from Frl. Pappenheim, one of the paint-
students, accompanied by verses in German, which
der Brautigam read aloud, very badly. How they
screamed! and cried, " Reizend!" The little
"Willy' (so they call him!) had millions of pew-
ter-soldiers, in wooden boxes. In his pile, and
Karl's, were bright new thaler pieces, — from some
Uncle Alexander, I suppose, don't you % The Frau
Professorin had a set of night Jackcken made by a
niece, etc., etc. But I must get on. Pretty soon we
sate down to a long table. The Professor put me and
Harriet on either side of himself. You know I think
it was lovely of them to have us — and when I say
there 's no politeness, I mean as well that the things
they do do and say come right straight out of kind
hearts. There was great screaming and yelling about
dividing the males, but the boys all wanted to sit
together, and it was finally fixed with a great deal
of Grandmother settled at the bottom, or one end,
and a frothy mass of boys at the other. We were at
116 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
the middle side, and the Frommenac directly oppo-
site. Der Brdutigam next Anna, and frequently
hugging her — but all very decorous. Such a meal.
First came raw oysters, a great rarity, so far from the
sea — but very good. (They all eat with their
knives, don't tell, and have only steel forks — very
handsome ones like our old best ones. There is a
little fence by the side of every plate where they sit
(the knife and fork) between courses, and are never
changed ! )
Then came macaroni, done with cheese. Long
pauses between each — but lots of white wine and
St. Julien to drink, and perpetual drinking of
toasts, standing up and clinking glasses, and crying,
"Hoch!"
Then came a dreadful thing. You must eat it for
the Grossmutter selbst made it, and was with the
cook (or in the kitchen, I don't know which, the
words are so near alike) twelve hours, — and if you
eat it at Christmas you have viel Geld all the
year. Herring Salad, — a spatted-down, chopped-up,
worked-over, messy fearful combination of poor sar-
dines and beets and raisins and pickle and oil, and
perhaps veal, bologna sausage, etc., etc.
Must be helped twice. It reminded me of the
Hassan wedding and your pocket. The elder Hark-
mudt youth rose and made this speech, " Ladies and
Gentlemen, inasmuch as it has been insinuated that
I and my brother have stated that we feared that the
Herring Salad this year would not be equal to the
Herring Salad of previous years, I wish to pronounce
this a foul slander, and to declare that I never
doubted for an instant the continued prowess of the
Grossmutter in making Herring Salad; and that
now, having tasted the Herring Salad, I assert that
it is the Best Herring Salad that the Grossmutter
has ever made, and I propose again the health of the
STUDYING AKT IX EUROPE 117
Grossmutter." Most of the younkers got up and
ran to clink glasses with the G. M. and they all
yelled " Herring Salad ! ' Herring Salad is the
Marlborough Pie of the family evidently. Was it
not delightful ? This is only an instance of the
speeches and jeers.
Next came a regular piece of roast beef sirloin,
deliciously roasted, which the Brautigam cut up,
after which the great slices were passed round. It
tasted awf ul good — for I have n't had any real beef
here. What they call beefsteak is a kind of croquet,
it seems to me. We ate it with potato and gravy and
pickles, and " Compot," which is Sarce of different
kinds, in a little plate at the side.
That was all. Is it not funny this not having any
pudding course ?
By this time the Frommenac, with much urging,
had consented to sing — ah, no ; — but the little
Willy got tired and left the table and he came and
got me to look at his tin soldiers. In fact he was
perfectly devoted to me and there was a general
move. Fran and Herr went off and made the punch
in the kitchen, then we all came back to the table,
sat helter-skelter about and drank the punch, which
was good and very strong, with much clinking of
glasses. Then the Frammenac sang in another room,
not previously opened, which was rather in a clutter ;
but the piano was there. She sang lovely German
words with a fine contralto voice, in a bawling style
too dramatic for a parlour. Then it was eleven
o'clock, and we came away, though they urged us to
stay; but our Stout Marie and Elise were waiting
for us in the kitchen. We parted on the doorstep
with the simple English expression, " Did you ever ! '
When I got home, lo, on my table was a great dish
full of PfefferJcuchen, apples, nuts, and candy; —
and besides sweet gifts from the Companions. They
118 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
have also trifles from me. So it was quite late when
I got to bed, and I felt this morning rather Katzen-
jammerische.
To-day is the real Christmas — but you see these
doings are all for "Heilige Abend" There are, how-
ever, three " Fest Tage " which they call 1st, 2nd, 3rd.
This is Zweite — people go to church and have some
particular thing for dinner; — and all these three
days the shops are shut. But the great time is
Heilige Abend.
That is about all and I must now go and dress for
Erau v. M.'s. If I had time, of course, I should be
low — for these Anniversaries are very bad; but I
hope you are all having an
amusing and pleasant time.
I ?m glad there is no German
for " Merry Christmas ! " as
it w'd be likely to stick in the
throat. They have no form
of greeting for the day appar-
ently. Guten-bye, lots of
love.
Yours ever,
Susie.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Weimar, February 19, 1873.
MY DEAR DINSMOOR, The
only superiority of these
stoves over our regis-
ters is that you can
flatten yourself up
against them in all
your length and breadth, as it were upon the breast
of the beloved, when cold, or low in the mind. In
this latter condition, as I thus clung just now to this
STUDYING AKT IN EUEOPE 119
poor exchange for a sympathetic bosom, I must think,
" What would the Constituents say to see me now ? '
The idea was sufficient to make me depict the scene
for you. I can't imagine a more forlorn image. But
she would travel! The best way really is to flatten
your back to it.
Later: I have had my nap, and had my coffee
with the widows, but I don't know whether I am suffi-
ciently in force to write out my long-, for you, con-
sidered essay on " Why I don't like Germany." I '11
try it and see, always premising you know that I
might write another, " Why I do like it." But this
is the
Don't
In the first place, the Bed. You have none of you
any true conception of it, and Lucretia has hinted
that she thinks she might like it, — not she ! There ?s
a total absence of tuck in to the German bed, which
no effort can remedy, and I have spoiled my best
nail trying for it in vain. (By the way they take
not the slightest interest in finger nails.) Lucretia
thinks she would like the feather bed on top, but the
thing is, it is so very on top, while underneath
every blast of heaven howls and whistles all night,
as they do round Park Street corner. First comes
a sort of cold flap- jack, too small and stiff to tuck
down, and on top the feather bed. The picture seems
not clear.
120 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
a is the feather bed; b, the cold flap-jack; c, a
vacuum visited by the winds of heaven ; d, the Victim.
I may add that, this preparation is just the thing
for chillblains, and that we are all suffering there-
with the torments of the d d. In the morning
I am awaked, in this receptacle, by the clatter of the
door. I sleep in a little dark closet, but that I like,
— the little door stands open into the big room, and
Frau Baier, Morgen frith, comes in to make the fire.
Her idea is to do it softly. Her first care is to shut
the little door, which has a peculiar squawk only
attainable in Germany. She then clatters away at
the fire and leaves. There 's a clumsy great lock on
the big door and a handle like a stop-cock which
kills your hand and spoils your glove. In about ten
minutes Mrs. Baier comes in again to look at the
fire, and goes out again. In about five minutes Mrs.
Baier comes in to get my boots to clean. After five
minutes more she comes in to bring back my boots.
That is all she comes, unless she forgets something,
in which case she comes once for each thing she for-
gets. Oh, no, let me tell you, she opens the little
door with a squeak and comes into my closet and
stealthily takes my water pitcher to fill, and brings
it back with another squeak and clatter.
Quarter of an hour later Elise begins. She don't
practise stealthiness, but advisedly makes as much
noise as possible. You 'd think it was somebody fall-
ing off a house with a sewing-machine and a trunk,
five stories into the street, — but it 's only Elise with
my bath-tub, — a regular wash-tub, which by great
persistence I have attained to, although all Weimar
thinks me insane, and Mrs. Baier, wherever we go,
tells that I wash myself all over in cold water every
morning. " Yes," said an elderly lady last evening,
"when one is so gewohnt it is necessary. I used to
wash myself once but I have got over it — " much as
STUDYING ART IN EUROPE 121
you'd speak of a person who, having acquired the
fatal habit of smoking, is obliged to leave it off
gradually, and not of a sudden. I don't mean to say
but what they are clean and neat enough, — as a
general thing I think they always wash their faces
once a day and their hands, say, twice a week, when
they are going to a party, but not so often with soap.
Well, Elise bangs the tub down at the foot of the
bed, stops and takes a good stare at me, and goes off.
Shuts the little door, squeak ; shuts big door, clatter.
Comes back with a pail full of water, and da capo, —
stare, shut little door, squeak, shut big door, clatter.
Third time, second pail of water, squeak, clatter.
When I am pretty sure the coast is clear I come
out, draw to the little door and proceed to bathe. It
is generally then that the postman comes. Walks in
(to the big room only) without knocking, and leaves
letter on the table. My dear, they never any of them
knock ! and I can't teach them to. I can only suppose
that the reason is that they are determined to come
in whether I want them to or not, and therefore think
knocking a useless affectation; for if the door is
locked they stand rattling away at the handle until
I come out of bed, or bath, or nap, or whatever, and
let them in. That 's a bother, so now I have given
up locking the door. All my party have had the
same experience.
While I am still in the tub, Elise comes again with
my coffee ; and this is very nice, that throwing on
a few clothes I now come out, sip my coffee, munch
my bread and rejoice in my letters. This would
be delightful, but — in walks Mrs. Biber — without
knocking — and always at a different time, so you
never can tell when to be girded up for her, — per-
haps I am stark naked, in which case she says, " Ach !
das schadet nicMs!" aber it does schaden for me;
for although, as you are well aware, I am somewhat
122 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
loose about clothes, I will not converse with, a German
woman in her own tongue, without any. She is a
dear woman, you know, and I am very fond of her,
but so trying in the morning, when one is just stag-
gering under the renewed burden of life. Lucretia
would go mad.
"Ach! liebes Fraulem! how hot it is here."
" Oh, do you think so," says Susan, feebly; "I
have only just shut the window. I thought it was
too cool."
"Nein, it is too hot."
Or, on the other hand,
"Ach! liebes FHMein, how imprudent! You
have the window open. It is here schrecMich
cold."
" Is it ? I thought it was hot and opened the
window."
"Nein, it is cold, hose Frdulein! " and she goes
and shuts the window and piles on more coal.
My dear, there's a finality about this German
Nein that is appalling. That young man, you know,
that learned to say, " No," has been a good deal
cracked up, but our " No " is no negation at all com-
pared to this " Nein " they have here. I 've got so
sensitive about it that I try to frame my sentences
so that they can't answer with "Nein." It comes
like a bucket of cold water over the most innocent
inquiry. " It 's quite muddy to-day, don't you think
so?"
"Nein! It is not muddy; it is dry."
I never saw anything like the point-blank way they
contradict each other as well as me. We have a civil
question mark after our "No" (nicht wahr?), which
allows some reprieve — but the Germans say, "Nein"
See that Period ? that 's the end of that subject, —
there's no appeal. Tell them anything about Amer-
ica,— how many inhabitants in New York, etc.
STUDYING AET IN EUROPE 123
" Nein . . . das ist nicht moglich" And that settles
it. Acini a narrow-minded people.
She gets come up with occasionally and then I'm
delighted, — for you know I never can discuss, and
I leave her always with her Nein. The other day I
was rushing off to the theatre, and she asked me to
wait for her as she was going out.
" Mit Vergnilgen, liebe Frau, only it is a little
late."
"Nein, it is not late." So I waited.
" Liebe Frau, perhaps you will allow me to say
that your clock is slow."
" Nein, it is not slow."
" Aber, liebe Frau, excuse me for mentioning it,
but on account of Gertrude being late for school, I
thought you would like to know."
" Nein, your watch goes ever vor."
" Yes, that is true, but for that reason I watch my
watch."
" Nein, you never know the right time."
" Excuse me, liebe Frau, but I have every day my
Fenster auf, in order to set my watch by the town
clock."
" Nein, you cannot hear the only clock that is right
from your window."
Very well, we let it go.
The next day, Gertrude came howling and weep-
ing back from school, at quarter-past nine, because
she was late! and the door was shut. The penalties
here are something fearful. At dinner that day,
Mrs. Biber said, " Only think, Gertrude was late
to-day ! ! My clock goes back ! I can't think what
ails it ! ! " Not the slightest reference to my warn-
ing ! I did n't say, " Told you so."
Time to go to the theatre, my dear, and my tirade
comes to an untimely close. You will think my
trials too trivial to detail; but these things make up
124 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
the sum of human life. I wonder if George had a
similar impression!
Next morning: I see, my best Dinsmoor, that I
got led away from my Essay to discuss that fatal
" Nein." I had meant to give you a faithful picture
of the strict surveillance under which I am kept by
my widow. It would enrage me more, only that it
amuses us all so much to see me in harness. Fullum
and Rebecca would froth at the mouth to see that
control, which even they have had only partial suc-
cess in attaining over me, completely exercised by
this small German female! It can't last, and even
now I occasionally break loose. But that makes the
rein tighter afterward.
Good-bye, lots of love. I hope there's a letter
from you on the way.
Always yours,
Susie Hale.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Bruxeeles, Tuesday p. m., June 3, 1873.
{Finished much later.)
my dear creche, — How much I think of you in
my room here. It looks so much like our dear Hotel
du Rhin up at the top, although of course not like
that. Brussels is a heavenly town, my dear. I like
it better than any I have seen! How odd that one
takes a fancy or dislike to a town, just like people,
at the first glance. I couldn't abide Antwerp.
Brussels is a Corrected and Improved Edition of
Paris, for the pocket, with the impurities omitted.
It seems as much like Paris as Boston does like Lon-
don, and that 's a great deal. My adventures, of
course, are amazing. Seems as if I must begin on
to-day, and write backwards, but of course it would
be better to begin at the Departure from England.
STUDYING AKT IN EUKOPE 125
That leaves a gap of the Derby ! ! ! ! I know — but
I can't help that. Put that in a postscript in an-
other letter. But to-day has been such a day ! Noth-
ing could be lovelier than the alacrity of the Stevens
at getting me off. I do love them both. . . . But
this is a long chapter and has no place in this travel
journal. B. P. is just the dearest and kindest man
in the world. I can't conceive what tempted him to
do so much for me. The fact was they liked me. It
seems odd; but it was very convenient.
On Sunday morn, I rose betimes to finish that
packing which had been sadly neglected in the hurry
of Saturday (see History of that day, as yet unwrit).
You see I left my trunk in London ! ! and am
launched upon the Continent with only my portman-
teau and shawl-strap. This is because it is insup-
portable paying Extra Baggage for all our party. I
have set the example and all have agreed to do like-
wise. I paid ten cents yesterday for my Extra B. !
That is worth while. (There is something laughable
about pens connected with this letter, but it don't
pay to write it; but I sympathise with your stiff
one.) I don't get on at all in the narrative.
Got well packed, both to leave and take, before
breakfast — a dear breakfast; Mrs. S. plucked the
first rose in the garden to give me at parting. Mr. S.
to the station. Met one of his young men at Lon-
don. More about the getting to the wharf, very in-
teresting, but must be omitted here. At last the
Baron Ozy was underweigh, — from the very Kather-
ine's wharf where I landed, on a Monday morning,
six weeks ago ! Dear me, what a good time I 've
had in England; I think the best in my life! For
quiet, easy, do-what-you-like-a-tiveness, you know.
Well, that 's over now — I was rather blue, steam-
ing down the Thames, especially as it rained, and
one could n't stay on deck, and the dinner was nasty,
126 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
at one o'clock, only I sate next a very dear German
of about fifty-five summers with whom I talked first
in German and afterwards in English. ... I must
tell you that my German has been fifteen years in
India ; — he has come home because he is losing his
sight, and he can't see to read. Lie spoke pathetic
broken English ; and told me finally that he got a
letter the last thing on leaving England, which he
could not read ! Of course I offered to read it to
him, and blundered through the crabbed German
handwriting to his satisfaction. Honour, of course,
forbids my mentioning the contents ; but, perhaps, I
may add, that they were not at all interesting.
When we arrived at Antwerp, I didn't know ex-
actly what to do. That's the bother of travelling,
however well you " know the ropes " at one place, at
the next, it's entirely different. Lots of sort of
ouvriers came on board, and I poked one and told
him, in French, I wanted a carriage to go to the
Hotel de l'Europe. He said " tres hienp took my
things, and walked off, with me behind. But he kept
walking and walking after we got on land, without
stopping at any cab, and I saw it was his idea to
walk to the hotel. That seemed very well, if it was
not far ; I was only afraid we should not arrive with
sufficient eclat. But after a brief walk, we walked
into the courtyard of the hotel ; the landlady received
me with the usual cordiality, and took me to a room.
She spoke French well enough. The spire of the
Cathedral was just outside my window. She said
if Madame liked, the ceremony of Woggle-woggle
was about to commence in the eglise, perhaps Madame
would like to hear the music, which was very fine.
So Madame, just as I was, went into the Cathedral —
where is a masterpiece of Rubens, and quite pretty
for him — and then heard a wonderful ceremony;
beautiful music by boys and instruments, and three
STUDYING AKT IN EUROPE 127
priests like boiled lobsters with fluted skirts doing
higher jinks than I ever saw before. It appeared
as if they were rather tired, but planning charades
to amuse the people, which they did from time to
time, when boys in white night gowns put other wraps
over them — and it was more like magical music,
when they all tried kneeling, and seizing candles, and
running round with books; and when they did the
right thing, the music suddenly stopped and rang a
bell. At last they thought they would play " button-
button," and came down among the audience with
hands together for that purpose, and then they went
back and took coffee, as it were, from the boys in
night gowns, and helped themselves to sugar. But
that was incense, I know, for I smelt it.
Great Interruption
CHAPTEK V
A summer in Europe with Rev. Edward E. Hale,
his daughter, Miss Ellen Day Hale, and Miss
Mary Marquand, 1882 — Visit to Frederick E.
Church, the painter, at his home on the Hudson
River, in 1884- — Trip to Mexico with Mr. and
Mrs. Church in 1885 — Summer at Matunuch,
1885 — Mexico again in 1886, with Mr. and
Mrs. Church, their daughter and Charles Dudley
Warner.
(1882-1886)
To Miss Ltjceetia P. Hale
Seville, Tuesday, May 23, 1882.
Oh, my dear ! We are sitting in our big room that
looks out on a real Damascus courtyard. Molly is
drawing the opposite corner of it from our long
window, — where she sees a doorway and a railing
with flowers, and some going up-stairs — and Nelly
has just finished in charcoal a lion which is part of
the ornament of the railing. Below is a fountain
with goldfish, and a great banana-tree with bending-
over fruit; the walls are whitewashed except where
they felt like painting them bright blue in spots.
Such is the Hotel de l'Europe where we arrived at
nine this morning ; but I must seat you there and go
back to my last date, if I can think what that was.
Oh, there is a great manola (magnolia) in a tum-
bler, which I bought just now in the street, about as
big as two hands put together. I think I shut up
my last, Friday p. m. That day Mr. Reed, the
charge d'affaires, called, a very pleasant man, ador-
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 129
ing James Lowell. He urged us to call on Mrs.
Hamlin in the ev'g (letters having been delivered,
etc.), and we went after dinner. It seemed so con-
sular, my dear, to go up two nights of chalky stairs,
ring bells and be shown into a yellow damask apart-
ment with a round divan in the middle ! Mrs. Ham-
lin is a very agreeable woman (from Maine), easy,
pretty, and cordial ; I guess glad to see " Americans '
as amenable as we were. And Papa Hamlin, a dear
worthy old gent, much farther on in years than
she. . . . She offered to take us to drive — which
did not occur till Sunday, as it rained Sat. I may
here say that though we have lovely weather enough
to do everything, it is continually raining in burst-
ing showers. People say, as at Cairo, that it never
rains in Spain. It is good, for everything is fresh.
Well, on Saturday, we felt equal to the Gallery.
You must know we stayed longer in Madrid than
we had meant, for several reasons, first, that our
rooms were very pleasant, and second, that we were
enchanted with M. It is so gay, so crowded, and
amusing, utterly unlike Paris or any other capital
we know. The pictures are perfectly satisfactory.
Think of me liking them ; what a reform ! ! But we
were very judicious. The Museo Reale is an im-
mense place like the Louvre, reeking with long pas-
sages and rotundas ; we flew at once to the Velasquez
and Murillos, and hard by to the Salon Isabel II
which (like the Salon Carre) contains gems. I will
write more about the pictures later, for we are going
back to Madrid, — suffice it to say that the Velasquez
are all they ought to be. The great horses on which
Isabella and Philip sit are lifelike and the portraits
of Philip IV wonderful. Don't care so much for the
Murillos. They are more like the ones we have seen,
but we haven't seen any Velasquez till now, worth
speaking of.
130 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Molly was rejoiced to see that p. m. the King going
to church. He required three glass coaches drawn
by six horses each, and a cortege of twenty sort of
Arabs on horseback wrapped in white with spears.
For even Madrid seemed Moorish — but, oh, lor!
nothing to this that follows, I mean Andalusia, etc.
On Sunday there was a bull-fight, as usual. Now
we do not attend bull-fights; but Mrs. Hamlin, after
a pretty drive on the Buen Retiro Paseo, took us
to the b. f. place to see the crowds as they came out.
It looked for all the world like a cattle show. The
great amphitheatre is a cheap modern building, not
exactly Yankee looking with windows ; but the crowds
and omnibuses waiting were like those at a fair, —
and when they all came streaming out it was very
amusing. The picadors (not being dead) rode forth
on their horses, looking just as they do in pictures.
The King was n't there, so he did n't come out. This
lasted so long that it was after seven when we got
back to our hotel, through streets packed with people
waiting to see us (and the King) return from the
bull-fight. Our dinner was waiting, our train was to
go in half an hour ! I mean our cabs to the train.
But we were all packed, and Papa Edward on
hand champing the bit and stimulating the prepara-
tion of the addition and with rather a scrimmagio,
we got to the gave, the baggage was weighed, but let
me tell you, by dint of moving myself into Molly's
trunk, and leaving most of our mutual effects at
Madrid, the scales now announce no extra baggage !
a great relief to our purse. . . .
Another night in the train — but this time we had
a herlina, which was that coupe you and I came to
Marseilles in, back to the horses. We slept pretty
well, and had great fun tumbling out in the middle
of the night at a fonda (buffet) where we had thick
chocolate and flat sponge-cakes, the latter being all
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 131
there was for spoons, with which we dipped up the
thick stuff and ate. A ruffian stuck all over like a
pin-cushion with knives of a lovely sort. We all
bought them. You will be delighted with mine, it
is so Moorish. We must appear like maniacs to more
sedate travellers ; there is no adventure that we stick
at, nor form of language ; and we are all so jolly. . . .
But why do I dally before the delights of Cordova
where we passed yesterday, — the weirdest kind of a
day. Arrived about 10 a. m.. Were driven through
a wholly new kind of town, with crooked white-
washed streets, — now beginning to look a little like
some of Alexandria — but tiled, not flat roofs. The
bus stuck between the two sides of the street once,
and wormed itself through with difficulty. After
Almuerzo (whereby hangs a tale) we went with a
Moor, the only Arabe now left in Cordova! who
speaks French, to see the wonderful mosque, with its
one thousand marble pillars, arched with striped red
and white; the nasty old Christians have spoiled it
by thrusting in a whole chapel in the middle, at
which Charles V was wroth, but didn't make them
take it out again. Here we began our acquaintance
face to face with the dear Moors and all their works :
and of course it reminds of Cairo, etc., but this
mosque is miles beyond those we saw in the East,
in sculpture, it is bereft of almost all mosaic and
tracery, except in one or two lovely spots.
We walked back through the middle of the crooked
whitewashed streets, meeting an occasional donkey,
but few other inhabitants; stopping a long time at
a garden like all those in the Arabian Nights, with
fountains, carp ponds, steps and arbours, and all
blooming with scarlet pomegranates ! ! roses, jasmine,
the young figs on the trees not ripe; but a strange
fruit like a persimmon, which they let us eat. This
garden is on the place of the ruined palace of the
132 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Moorish kings, with a few traces left — and from a
vine-hung (in blossom) sort of turret, we looked
down on the Guadalquivir, a bridge built by Romans,
and some Arab mills.
Now you must know that at breakfast a stout man
sate opposite me with his wife, with whom we had
no traffic, until I took a piece of cheese and began to
eat it, before engaging upon an orange. The man
now accosted me and said in French that it was dan-
gerous to do that, as they did not join well in the
stomach. This began a friendly conversation, which
was continued by an invitation to his jardin to see
his strawberry beds — and it ended in our passing
a long p. m. in his lovely garden. He is a most dear
man, jefe of mecaniciens to the R. R. — Alsacien, but
his wife from Malaga speaks only Spanish. If you
could have seen us all, hobnobbing in these languages,
— and receiving handsful of the most delicious fat
roses, jasmines, orange-blossoms, gillyflowers, lark-
spurs, pansies, all the time the beaming man telling
us how he loved to have us see his garden, and his
strawberry bed, which bears all the year round. It
was not such a very big garden, you know, but very
pretty, with a fountain in the middle. Our inter-
preter was there, the Arabe, who stayed round to
come in for his share of the fun. The Signora, his
wife, a stout lady with a velo on her head, beamed
and essayed hospitalities in Spanish which we strove
with might and main to comprehend. A muchacha
was set to gather strawberries ; and by and by when
we struggled to get away we were led into the worthy
house, where was a piano, which they forced me to
play on, while a hasty repast of fruit was prepared.
We then sate round and partook. The strawberries
are small and delicious here, — wide and in profu-
sion. His especially so. He took great oranges from
his own tree, cut them in two, and squeezed them like
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUISTUCK 133
a sponge, over the strawberries with lots of sugar.
This is the true way to eat both. H(e then brought
out wine of his own making from his own grapes.
The others thought it horrid stuff, and it was n't first
class. We all touched glasses, and sipped ; and finally
got away with mutual expressions of regard. You
can't imagine what a dear, stout, radiant man he was ;
and he seemed to act as if we were the only people
he had ever loved. Wasn't this an amazing ad-
venture.
And now, most dead ; for you see we had had no
beds the night before ; we came back to the hotel, and
went betimes to bed — to rise at four this a. m. to
get off at six — reached here at nine, through a de-
licious road lined with agaves, apparently made of
tin and painted, but really real things with tall can-
dlesticks for blossoms looking like asparagus the size
of telegraph-poles ; oleander in blossom, fluffy yellow
acacia, etc., etc. — and are just settling here for a
week or so. I send this off in haste.
Your Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Granada, Sunday, June 4, 1882.
dear luc, — I'm really feeling so very English
that I 'ope you'll be able to see the truly English
eccent through me writing even ; for you know there
are several English in the 'ouse 'ere, and among
others a lady all hung about with silver beads, which
everybody is wearing at present, and rings on all her
fingars, — indeed, I dessay, bells upon her toes, you
know. I was eating strawberries and sugar, with
orange squeezed on them, and as I was in the very
ect of squeezing the orange, she said, looking me full
in the face —
That must be very nasty ! "
u
134 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
" On the contrary," said I, " I assure you that if
it were nasty, I should not do it; it is very nice."
But she is really no great part of Granada —
which is truly ravishing. . . .
But, oh, my dear! we have reached the heavenly
culmination of our trip, — for Granada is the dream
of Aladdin's Lamp, — and a lovely place to be in
for June. Let me say, also, if I haven't, that we
have had no bugs, nor fleas, nor flies, nor dust, nor
bad food, any of the time. A smell or two, for those
who seek them; — but Spain must be greatly im-
proved since the complaints were made. As for heat,
it is cold enough here for woollen clothes, and
blankets at night; for it is over two thousand feet
high — about like Crawf ords, White Mountains, and
a cool, fresh, brilliant air, that makes us sleep like
dogs. Snow on the Sierra Nevada, opposite us.
Thermometer 72°, Edward says, as I write.
Well: at Malaga we called on Marquis de Casa
Loring, Banker, who is uncle to Seraphina Loring
(ask Bursleys). He has an enchanting Alonzo Cano
" Virgin and Child," and many other fine pictures,
and bits of rare china. He seemed to like us, and our
praise of his pictures, and promised me a photograph
of the Alonzo Cano ; but alas ! it did n't come, and
we think, perhaps, it was a Spanish compliment.
The Cathedral at Malaga is deteriorated in style, but
contains a beautiful Cano ; — Nelly and I are setting
up a great ardour for his work — and a fine Herrera,
of St. Anthony dying.
The road to Granada is wonderful; the railway
lately built, so that the Welds and other constituents
have n't seen it. It crosses great ranges of mountains
in tunnels innumerable; these tunnels have gaps
which flash upon you suddenly, a cliff and a gorge,
of great size and bright orange colour with purple
shadows — very exciting. We arrived at eight, down
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 135
in the town ; our nice Juan, who is still with us, put
us in a kind of omnibus like a sleigh on wheels, and
merrily jingling mules rattled us up a very steep hill,
through a narrow street, to the top, which is a won-
derful place like Catskill even for height — and
here the huge grounds of the Alhambra, which it
seems is not only a palace but a fortress, — whose
walls enclose quite a little city; and outside these
walls are the two hotels, like great White Mountain
hotels, extensive and pretentious, with their own gar-
dens and fountains, and stained glass windows, and
white-choked waiters. Our landlord is most friendly,
and after the first night, which we passed in a kind
of turret, in red-walled rooms, with barred windows
overlooking a hanging garden, he transferred us to
a higher up but larger suite, where we have home-
like, delightful rooms ; one, a big salon of a catty-
cornered description, with windows looking all sorts
of ways upon orange-coloured ruins. Oh my! it is
delicious. And the nightingale really bulbuls all
night long ! It appears he is the male bird, who sits
and sings all the time while Mrs. is on the nest hatch-
ing the eggs. We think it is very friendly of him,
and something like reading her the Transcript o'
nights, and quite different from the Bulbul accosting
the Rose, or Philomela lamenting her lost state.
Here we are content to let the time slip by as it
will. There is everything to sketch, only it takes so
much lake and indian yellow. The grounds are open
to all — broad roads leading up and around the walls
and castles, with tall trees, thickly shading them, and
streams of rushing water everywhere (like Damas-
cus), being the Darro and Genii, which the Moors
made to irrigate things.
We have been through the lovely Alhambra palace,
and were there by moonlight. The lions are very
wTorthy in the Court. The Moors didn't know how
136 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
to make them very well, so they are quite chunky.
But the tracery and arches, and the views from win-
dows are exquisite. The style like the Alcazar, only
more so; and we are glad we saw that first. From
these windows we look down a steep precipice, and
across at the Sierra Nevada (eleven thousand feet)
with snow on it; water rushes, tall cypresses stick
up, and the white town of Granada is below. There
are lots of different towers and gardens, which we
have not yet begun to see; but we mean to be here
some time.
At the table d'hote are some quite amusing, agree-
able people. The season is over (as usual when I
reach any place) so there are but few other inmates.
Yesterday we drove to the Cathedral in the town;
it is Spanish and fine; and bought at a shop a few
Spanish characteristic things. There are three cats
in the Cathedral. Much love from all.
Yr. Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
The Sheaves, Surbiton", Monday morning,
September <25, 1882.
dear luc, — Such peace ! Everything here just
as I left it, June 1, 1873. Dog a few years older,
all of us a little stouter, more ivy against the house,
if possible; the house, too, has grown, for they have
added an L. My old jokes still remembered and
quoted, and the welcome as cordial as possible. The
only danger is, a creeping sense of settling down now
to take all the tired of the whole summer, instead of
waiting till I crawl into my own hole wherever it may
prove to be. That won't do ; must brace up and run
the machine well into the station first. Don't fancy
that I 'm used up in the least, by this line of remark,
only you know the sense of repose that comes on after
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 137
travelling. As soon as B. F. Stevens turned to the
porter and said, " Take these boxes to the Sheaves "
(instead of my doing it), I gave in my Nunc Dimit-
tis. We were tired, too, for we had a wild week in
London, perfectly delicious. I can't think of any-
thing better conducted. You know Molly and I had
the whole top-story at Mrs. Alflatt's. Every morn-
ing Eliza brought my bath, and 'ot water for Molly ;
?alf an 'our afterwards we came down and found a
nice little breakfast and the newspaper. As soon as
we could afterwards, we sallied forth, looked in on
Nelly, and then took bus for our affairs. . . .
Eor Monday, after breakfast, Molly and I took our
first bus and rode to Piccadilly Circus. ... As soon
as we reached Trafalgar Square we were received
into Stevens's arms; he was real nice, and so glad
to see me that nothing much ensued but a long im-
mense talk in which he thoroughly shrived himself.
So at one he just put us on top of a bus (which Mrs.
Merritt thinks very shocking, perhaps you 'd better
not mention it) and we came back to Kelly's lunch.
Her studio is awfully nice. It is such a pity she
can't take it to America. When we got home we
found the vouchers for our stalls at the Lyceum thea-
tre, which I had written for. Molly now rested while
I put on war paint, and Nelly and I took hansom to
Mrs. Alma-Tadema's p. m. tea, which Mrs. Howells
had given us cards for. For now I see I forgot to
say that Sunday p. m. Nelly and I went to Pelham
Crescent to call on the Howells, and that Sunday
evening Mr. H. called on me. They are just done
with London, and were leaving the next morning,
very jolly, delighted with London, themselves, and
the world in general. The C. D. Warners dropped
in at Mrs. Howell's, very friendly, in gorgeous
clothes, being just on their way home.
So we went to the Alma-Tademas'3 a sweet aesthetic
138 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
house on Regents' Park, and there was Mrs. A.-T.,
my first real aesthete. Oh, my! Her gown was
strainer cloth worked with Holbein stitch. It was
cut half low, with hunchy sleeves; a bow of faded
maroony lilac, such as used to be in the ribbon-bag
in the Hamilton Place entry-closet, at the front, and
a double row of beads of somewhat the same colour ;
her tawny hair was scruffed in front and knotted
low behind. She is very handsome, and all this was
very becoming, and her manners were simple and
charming, and, in fact, made you feel, in that house,
that she was all right, and we were all wrong, espe-
cially Mrs. C. D. Warner (who again came in with
Mr. C. D.), who was all got up in peacock blue and
bangles from Paris. The two gawky daughters of
Alma-T. did n't become their aesthetic clothes so well,
but they were well bred and pleasant. The only other
person there, was Millet, our little Frank Millet of
Boston and New York. The A.-T.'s affect and en-
courage Americans. Square cups of tea were in-
stantly served, which we drank out of the corners;
and then Mrs. A.-T. let us go up to the Studio,
although it was not a show day, as Mr. A.-T. is away.
And in the evening, we saw Irving and Ellen
Terry in " Romeo and Juliet," perfectly enchanting,
the scenery absolutely faultless, but I must leave that
till I get home. . . .
All my sketches (fifty) are at Winsor and New-
ton's being mounted. I guess they are horrid.
Always yrs.,
S.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
[Boston], Friday, December 15, 1882.
Caroline, dear, — I got the picture ! I don't
know if we can do anything with it, but it seemed
a waste to let go all that good paint, paper, and frame
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 139
for twenty dollars. It is much loaded with gouache,
which will make it hard to meddle with.
Now let me describe my truly American Adven-
tures in the Expedition. Of course my couturiere
called before I finished breakfast, to be instructed
in ripping and remaking my old brown skirt; but I
got rid of her, and dressed, on the doorstep at nine-
twenty. I say " dressed," but of course my gloves
were in my hand, my purse in my muff, my door-key
in my mouth, and my handkerchief at my nose; so
that when the postman came and thrust a letter at
me, there seemed no good place to put that, but I
squeezed it between my muff and my stomach.
A car came along, and I climbed up on it with
difficulty, to find it was jam full and people sticking
out of the doors and windows, — so I had to stand
outside amid the jeers of the populace, and the severe
invitation of the conductor to "step inside." This
I would gladly have done but that there was no inside
to step to, it being au grand complet. When we
swung round the corner I nearly fell off, for you will
remember I had no hand to spare to hold on by ; and
thus became an object of loathing to the other men
on the platform who didn't want me. Before we
reached West Street the car stopped. "What 's this ?"
asked a man. " Wal," said the conductor, " I guess
the horses are tired." As they seemed likely to re-
main tired, I alighted. It was a pretty even thing
all the way to Winter Street; and the race was in-
teresting to those inside the car. At Winter Street
they got the advantage, for I had no third horse to
get me up the slope. However, I won, and rounded
the Bromfield Street corner 'ere they passed Park
Street Church. Let me mention that the only thing I
had time for on the car was to give up my ticket, by
which the Met. R. R. Co. is now the gainer. It was
now simple to find the picture, and give my order.
140 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
I returned to Tremont Street. Never a car. I
suppose the horses were all tired down below. I had
got myself together a little by this time, and had a
hand to spare, which was lucky, for my bonnet, tuned
only to Parisian zephyrs, now clean left my head,
and I found myself in the teeth of a howling blast !
Mr. Sam Johnson found and pitied me, and we strove
to touch the heart of a cabman, but he was "en-
gaged," so again I faced the situation. Only at
Temple Place did I gain a car, and temporary repose.
There was a seat. Thus blown and blowzy I reached
my home, just ten o'clock, just in time to let in a
pupil on the step of the door. All but Honour lost !
But my pledge fulfilled. The picture has come, and
I paid 35 cents to the expressman. Come and consult.
Yours,
S.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Olana, June %9, 188 4.
dear luc, — ... It is lovely here, real woodsy
and wild, though the house or villa is gorgeous ! Mrs.
Church met me at Hudson, and we drove up here,
several miles — through thick woods, like the ascent
to the Alhambra. In fact Olana is placed somewhat
like that, on the top of a cone-like height command-
ing the Hudson. The house is large and all open
on the lower floor, with wide doors and windows
a deux battants, so that everywhere you look through
vistas to shining oak boughs at hand, and dim, blue
hills far beyond, middle distance omitted because so
far below. The air is all perfumed with wild grape
and hay-like scents. It reminds me of Thisselwood
in this boskiness. There are no noises whatever, but
old squirrels yapping, and hermit-thrushes and robins,
in unalarmed profusion. At present the household
is old Mrs. Carnes ; Mr. Church, very stiff and lame,
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 141
but lovely; Mrs. Church, very pretty in soft white
curcan; the boys, Winthrop and Louis, and their
tutor, "Mr. Scudder," and Downie; these last have
gone to church ; the rest of us are writing in different
rooms on different Persian carpets, with different
pounded brass inkstands, and different oriental stuffs
hung about on easy chairs of antique or artistic
shapes. There are a great many animals attached
to the house, donkeys and dogs and cats and turtles
and a new owl just out of the egg, with great eyes
that turn with his head. We have talked a great deal
about Mr. Appleton, Mexico, etc. It is that real
warm inland out-of-door weather, soft, not too hot,
regular country, not at all seashorey, suggestion of
muslins. I wish I had more. I think I shall be
happy for a month. . . .
Yours,
SlJSE.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Olana, Sunday, July 6, 1884-
dear luc, — ... It is a lovely, quiet life, and
suits my own minor state of spirits better than an-
other place and better than this would at another
time. They are certainly the loveliest people that
ever were.
Breakfast is very punctual at eight. The neat
maid twangles a triangle to summon us, and we meet
in the superb dining-room which is a picture gallery,
with a Salvator Eosa, the Murillo "Santa Kosa,"
and many other pictures. The walls are all window-
less except on one side where the light comes from
above the great fireplace. Up there you see the
branches waving — but below it is cloister-like. Ex-
quisite flowers arranged only by Mrs. Church are
always on the table, and every plate and pitcher and
napkin is chosen for its beauty or prettiness. De-
142 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
licious cream, and perfect coffee, burnt in the only
machine of its kind in the world; vegetables, fruit,
cherries, raspberries, currants, all from our own
gardens, and so on.
Prayers are always after breakfast. Downie gets
the Bibles and we all read round. Then I retire
to write in my room. I have just finished " F. F."
and sent the whole thing off to Lothrop. Break
ground to-morrow on the Memoir, and take this
Sunday interval to write you. When I get through
writing, I dart off alone for a sweat-bath and to re-
cover my tone. The place is so large I. can walk
miles without going off of it. It is very pretty, great
avenues of trees, a pond, nooks of shade, and always
the wide view of the river and mountains. It is a
little monotonous, in that just so much as you go
down you have to climb up again, being on the very
top of everything; in this reminding me of Monad-
nock Halfway House.
We meet at lunch (which nobody can eat but me
and the boys. It makes me appear a ravenous wild
beast) ; but retire for naps or novels. But between
three and four we come out richly dressed and as-
semble on whatever piazza, porch, or ombra com-
mands the best advantages for seeing and coolness, —
and then talk, talk, talk till dinner at five-thirty,
and then the same all evening till about ten o'clock,
bedtime. We are all, in fact, very agreeable, and
nobody takes up a book much, though every form of
literature is lying round. Coffee is served after din-
ner in little cups with exquisite little spoons, each
one different, in the shape of some flower or leaf;
all these things are Mr. Church's taste. . . . Close
in haste.
SlJSE.
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 143
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Olana, July 27, 1884,.
dear luc, — I write now my last from here.
After all, how alarmingly fast the month has gone.
I have got half my book done (in pages) and have
read it aloud to the Churches who are delighted.
This part consists chiefly in condensing and copying
from early journals, and I have done all that. It is
well to be through as I need not cart these heavy
books to E. G. — but the rest will be much harder.
It is as if a heavy curtain went down in front of an
actual scene of what Mr. T. G. was doing, and now
I must grope about to find out the facts of the greater
part of his life. . . .
We have had a quiet week here — only a Mr.
Austen, friend of Mr. Church, great traveller in
South America, for a few days. The children all
left us on Thursday. . . .
Our family thus reduced to a quartet of elders.
The chief interest is the sweet little owl. The boys
let him loose, he having reached full size, but the
angel comes back about dusk every night to get fed.
His little twitter is heard, and he floats softly into
the room, alighting on some chair. He is perfectly
tame, so I catch him, or somebody, and we give him
water in a spoon, and bits of raw meat. He revisits
his cage, takes a seat for a minute in his little round
basket bed, and then, having thus shewed his friend-
liness to the family, soars off into the night on silent
wings. Is it not sweet of him ? The great black cat
Cyrus who rodes about at night causes us fear, for
it would be sad if one of our pets should lie down
inside of the other. . . . Much love from
Susie.
144 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
To Miss Ellen Day Hale
Boston, February W, 1885.
dear nelly, — As I write the date, I feel all the
things I wish to write you about trooping out of my
head to unknown parts. Don't you ever? I hope
they will come back, for there are stacks of them,
and I do not want to fill up my letter with twaddle,
of which there is always plenty afloat, of course. . . .
I want to tell you about my story, you know, that
I read to you and Phil. I sent it to Harper's who
sent it back saying there was rather too little subject
for so long a story, and that they were overburdened
with tales of that length. Now this rather comforted
me, for I hate to write such long ones, and had much
rather do two short than one long. So I think to
pluck up strength to send a brief one chock full of
meat, would n't you ? Then as Alice Jepson was just
returning to England, I poked off on her the Mss.
of this story, asking Stevens to send it to some or any
London mag. ! The English may have different tastes,
at any rate it 's out of my sight, so that 's that.
Meanwhile, Tilton has kept me the whole winter
puttering over the decorating book, which is now
really going to press at once ; he will pay me twenty-
five dollars more, which makes a hundred. And Mr.
Amory is sweet about Mexico. ... So that I can
really get off for Mexico and apparently shall, in the
Alexander steamer of March 26, via Havana for
Vera Cruz, where Churches will lay hold of me. I
think to be gone till about May 20, and then come
back here and write here in 97 B, — and not move
till about July 1 to Matunuck, getting there in time
to receive my boarding family and you when you
return, nest-ce pas? I believe your mother holds
firm to the scheme; but I am awfully afraid of some
treachery in the serfs ; — for what a sell it would be
EUBOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 145
to get saddled down there with Katy and Ellen and
Mary! Your father is bold as a lion about it. . . .
Che che ne sia, as Giannone says all the time, I will
hold to my bargain, and long to be far from the in-
trigues of the Court, although 'tis sad to think that
Jack and I shall not have another winter in these
rooms, which are nearly perfect now.
My Headings from French Novels, which I feel
always indebted to you for the idea, are a great suc-
cess. Everyone thinks it is " perfectly wonderful"
how I can do it — but in reality, it requires no more
preparation than in English, for in either case, I
always have to read over beforehand, by the clock,
the extracts I have made. It is funny, I find I hurry
the French more than in English, a sort of feeling
that slowness will appear like hitching, but this is a
fault which I am correcting. I have bought several
French things for this purpose, which you will like
— Marivaux, Marianne, Diderot, etc. I 'm sure I
could do it in German, Spanish, and Italian, if the
audience were up to it, but although they praise it,
they don't quite take in what a boon to them it is,
to be yanked over three volumes of foreign literature
in one and a half hours.
I am thinking that at Matunuck in July and
August, I might have a sort of Round Robin course
of " readings " for the same folks that belong to the
Pier talk, anyhow I will try Mrs. Weeden on it, when
I get down there.
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Vera Cruz, Monday p. m., March 80, 1885.
. . . You must know they keep vultures here to
scavenge the streets, which they do very nicely, and
these great beasts are sitting all about on the roofs,
146 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
window-tops and gutters, and making a most delight-
ful skwawk all the time; as if our sparrows and
pigeons should have been the size of great turkeys;
and they do keep the streets clean, for they shine with
neatness, paved, with a narrow side-walk and a gutter
in the middle of fresh water, and sort of bridges at
every crossing, so as not to tire your feet on the
cobble stones. It is all very Spanish but kind of
worthy as well. The hotel is on a plaza made of a
bunchy kind of tree I don't know yet, and palms.
Down-stairs it is outdoorish, with arcades, up one
flight the hotel begins, with brick tile floor, all open,
one end of the great place is the dining-room, and
round that, high double doors open into the rooms,
which are very high, the partition walls merely
planks; the door has a great key as big as a house
and a ring to lay hold of for a handle, and a great
bolt beside. The window opposite is a deux battants,
opening to the floor with a balcony with a green
wooden railing, and a rock-chair in it. It had a can-
vas awning when I came, but as it has got cool they
came and took it clean away. There are three little
beds in the corners, small (ugly) rugs by each, the
rest brick, in diamonds. A very praiseworthy bureau
of pine painted indian red, and wash-stand ditto, but
a slop-pail and plenty of water. Below in the plaza
the inhabitants are cooling themselves with their hats
off. The town is very quiet, except for these vultures
conversing, and I have a cage full of canary-birds of
my own at the window. I don't mean I have bought
them, but they come with the room. A " nagur " who
speaks English sits at the door to do anything I want.
I wish to live here always, and I hear Mrs. Long-
fellow does likewise.
There are horse-cars running through the straight
street we are on, but let me call your attention to the
fact that they make not the slightest noise. You
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 147
merely hear the click of the muleses feet, which draw
them, and a low sort of rumbling, but no clatter, nor
jingling of bells, only an occasional toot of a horn
which harmonises well with the vultures. The street
is only two stories high, yellow ochre with bright
green blinds, projecting balconies with shelves over
them for the vultures, which are painted red (vul-
tures very black). Around the square are several
pretty towers and a dome with coloured tiles, and
flying buttresses, atrocious architecture, I dare say,
but very pretty, all very liglit, bright, and pleas-
ing. . . . Must leave off.
Yours,
SUSE.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
City of Mexico, Easter, April 5, 1885.
dear luc, — I must begin again to grind at the
writing-mill, or I shall get behindhand. This morn-
ing I tackled the " Family Flight " and to-morrow
shall have finished all I need send home to " Cocky-
wax, " so that will be off my mind. I am in my nice
room at the Cafe Anglais ; a great soup-plate full of
white roses interspersed with dark sweet-peas is on
my table, besides a heavenly little glass jug (6*4
cents) containing fuchsias and pansies. I bought
these all in the market this morning with a sweet old
basket thrown in for two reales. We had melon to
begin' Almuerzo and strawberries to finish. They
have the latter all the year round here. These were
not very good, but were not the stomachics of
commerce.
Friday was Good Friday, which, they celebrate here
as a day of great rejoicings; all the world is in the
street. We sent out to the Zocolo or square to see
the crowds, and it was great fun buying little cheap
things at the booths. This country is a great place
148 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
for children's toys, especially this anniversary, for
they make a great time about Judas (Iscariot). The
streets are full of hideous images called Judases,
most of them full of fireworks, and on Saturday
at ten o'clock in the morning these are all set off amid
pealing of bells. There are Mrs. Judases as well.
Someone gave Mrs. Church a little silver Judas; it
is" a Devil ; — the man who sold it said, " Yes, Devil,
yes, Judas, same thing." They are all sizes and de-
signs. I have several choice ones which we can set
off on the Fourth of July. Then every being has in
his hand a sort of watchman's rattle, which makes
a noise called grinding the bones of Judas, and these
are of every imaginable design, frying-pans, bed-
steads, locomotives, flower-vases, birds, bath-tubs, and
then there are little wooden carts, with wheels that
grind the bones. The true thing is to buy your
Judas, selecting him with care from millions, and
to put him in his little cart and draw him home. We
saw countless children doing this, the little carts
decorated with real flowers, and the children so
pleased !
Then there is sold everything to eat, — sugared
banana, flat cakes, pink confections like in Egypt, —
and cooling drinks, some a bright orange colour,
which Nathan says is very good, I haven't tried it
yet. A band was playing in the Zocolo, and people
swarming, all classes, ladies in mantillas, il Rag-bags"
in rebozos; — I am going to get you a rebozo. I can't
decide whether maroon or blue will be best. . . .
Saturday was Judas-day, and we saw from our
balconies crowds of Judases carried to their doom.
These big ones are the size of a man, made of frames
covered with tissue paper or what masks are made
of. One was hung across corners of our two streets,
he had a grinning face, they had put a straw hat on
him and festooned him with bread and bananas. He
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 149
had a placard on him in very bad spelt Spanish, saving
among other things, " Adios amigos, voy a morir."
But we couldn't stop to see him morir, but all
hastened to the Zocolo, where we got separated and
I was alone in a street leading off with, an immense
crowd all waiting to see three Judases set off. They
were hung on ropes stretched across the second story,
and the crowd pleased themselves with throwing mis-
siles at them, with yells of joy when anything hit;
but very gentle and polite, and very nice to me. At
last one went off and then another with a great rush-
ing sound, and snorting smoke and flame which issued
from the boots chiefly. Then I got away in the wake
of a horse-car that cleaved the crowd, — and found
the Longf ellows in the Cathedral where there was n't
much but a smell of incense. . . .
Yrs.,
SlJSE.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 15, 1885.
dear Caroline, — 'T is rather late in the day for
me to thank you for taking my very broad hint about
Rev. E. E. — but so it is with my letters as you well
know. I was sure you would be like angels to him,
and so he says you were, and it seemed a shocking
waste of material to have him turned loose in a hotel.
He depicts your house, its hosts, and everything about
it, in the most glowing colours.
Well, now, my dear, I want to know if you would
like tc have me come over for the very last week in
October ? Perhaps it will bore you to have anybody
there so soon before you shut up for good, in which
case, pray say so. You know I don't mind being in
a scrimmage, and perhaps I can help, and anything
irregular about food don't trouble me, stilly just as
150 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
like as not it's not convenient. The reason for in-
viting myself so late is that I can't leave here before
October 4 on account of writing several books which
could n't be done in connection with housekeeping, —
and Mrs. Church whom I have put off all summer
leaves her place the twentieth, so I have to go there
before. Besides, you know, I fear to go to Newport
earlier on account of clothes, which I haven't any
of a butterfly nature. I 've had this on my mind all
summer, but have been so hard worked there was not
an instant to stop and say it in. Eamily generally of
ten persons, chiefly hungry boys. Three very " lame
ducks " in the kitchen. It has been a great success.
Everybody singing my praises. I have made bread,
— invented a breakfast cake, — stuffed tomatoes, —
baked gingerbread, — and besides this, and by far
the hardest part, looked after the wants and whims
of this tumultuous family in the way of hats, bats,
rackets, bathing clothes, saws, scissors, novels, Bibles,
pens, ink, gloves, bicycles, wheelbarrows, water-pails,
microscopes, telescopes, tennis shoes, pumps, shirts,
handkerchiefs, overcoats, undercoats, pins, needles,
soap, vaseline, poetry, prose, dictionaries, cyclope-
dias, fly powder, paint, screws, hammers, putty, muci-
lage, lining silk, envelopes, blotting-paper, corkscrews,
wagons. This is all I think of, things called for at
every moment, and always left on the entry table after
use, and expected to be close at hand the next time.
But I love it, — and feel that my talents are only
fit for taking care of a large household. It really is
lovely here, and I mean to come back here for No-
vember after coming to you, if you want me, end of
next month. You know I long to see your house.
Haven't heard a word about dear William Amory,
have you?
Always yours,
Susan.
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 151
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Ehode Island,
November 13, 1885.
dear luc, — ... I am really writing twenty
pages a day on Spain, and this leaves me scarce the
fingers to grip the pen, so you must not expect me
to dilate much, or grumble if the gaps are long. The
life is enchanting, but the days so short. To-day,
weather perfect, — oh, yes! just perfect. I have
never seen anything more lovely than this soft,
dreamy sky. None of your crackling October snappy
days with the water indigo-colour and everything
sharp and clear, but all tender, vague, and yet dis-
tinct, and the colour of everything wonderful —
cesthetic (Liberty) greens, reds, yellows, the prevail-
ing tone that of the fallen oak leaves which lie in
masses the colour of our check-books. And so
still! . . .
Here comes Jane, with dinner, which is laid in the
parlour close to the open door on to the piazza.
Roast chicken, potato, cabbage, pickled walnuts, —
baked quince and cream.
After dinner. — This is the true Indian summer.
It occurred to me while dining, how much the In-
dians must have preferred this to the other summer,
but then whose summer do you suppose they called
that ? I am now waiting for my p. m. tea, which I
have early, in order to get out among the hills before
three o'clock, for, look you, the sun sets at four-thirty-
two to-day ! ! And I want to mention that the sun
rises now this side of Point Judith ! Over the water !
Can you believe it? So far south! Seems as if it
would get so far south as to rise in the west. How
confusing this would be. This seeing the sun rise
and set every day gives me a new and firm confidence
•in the permanence of things. Here is something
152 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
which really does happen, straight along, on which,
you can rely. Pretty sure, as the old Bird goes down,
that he'll be up again round the other side.
You'll think I'm drivelling. Guess I am. But
how resting it is not to hear a horse-car, — or eke
now any scraping thing, for the grasshoppers are
dumb. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Off Frontera, Saturday, March 6, 1886.
dear luc, — And this, my dear, is the Tabasco
Biver, which Cortes went up, where he had his first
fight with the Indians, and picked up Marina. It
is far off from us, and more faint and dim than I
have made it, being only deep blue against a grey
sky, but very pretty. It is overcast to-day, and
Ernest thinks it very disagreeable ; and as usual, they
were on the wrong side of the ship for the breeze
last night. The rest of us think it a refreshing
change from the hot glare of yesterday. We are wait-
ing for tugs to come off shore.
Yesterday we were lying off Campeche. It was
blazing hot, and no breeze, so we had to wait a long
time for boats to come out. When the government
one came, it brought a party of ladies, and we had
great fun with them all day, and much excellent
Spanish practice, for they pervaded the ship and
came into my cabin where Miss Sharp and I scraped
acquaintance. They were a mother and three daugh-
ters, and a friend in cherry-coloured silk, named
Bafaela, who was dressed as if for a ball, with a
pink feather fan. JSJone of them had any bonnets nor
wraps, and the buxom mother had black silk slippers
and black stockings a jour, their feet and hands very
small. They looked untidy, and were heaped with
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 153
powder, but were evidently gentlewomen. They
could all tocar the piano, and the mother could sing,
and was fain to do so, but no one could play her
accompaniments. We all did our best to entertain
them. Mrs. Gross brought out Huyler candy, and
Mr. Sargent opened a bottle of champagne at lunch.
At about 2 p. m. I fled from them to my cabin,
being weary of translating, for I was the only one
of us who could do any Spanish. But, lo! they fol-
lowed me there, to ask me to tell the stewardess a
commission they wanted her to entregar from New
York next time. This was, — what do you think, —
false bangs for their hair ! All the dramatis personce
assembled here in my little room. Two senoritas
on the sofa next me, Cherry-Colour on the bed, the
stewardess gabbling her fool English in the middle,
the madre in the doorway, Miss Sharp looking on
amazed, — and looking in at the window Senor
Vanete, being introduced to me, and several raga-
muffins also assisting outside.
There was, moreover, a child, cet.
about thirteen years, whom I must
describe. She came on at Havana
with her small brother, in this
loose, black garment, with no hat,
and no other baggage than a box
of cigars under her arm, from
which she smokes at her leisure.
They are orphans, and going to
Vera Cruz, where relatives will take care of them.
Of course we were all filled with compassion, and we
treat them most friendly; but she is amply able to
take care of herself, a regular Tilly Slowboy, with a
tin-pan voice, and yelling Havana Spanish all over
the ship, leading about her adopted son, and setting
him down hard on benches and thresholds. Neither
has any other garment under these black ones you
154: LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
see in the picture, and his little legs are bare. This
pair assisted in my stateroom, and when the madre
took my portfolio to write her address, Slowboys held
it up to steady it, watching the pen with amazement,
while the child poked his little nose into my nail-
closet (pour soigner les mains, I mean). Wasn't it
rich!
Miss Sharp and I tried to persuade the Senoritas
that bangs were passes, but, no, they wanted them.
The stewardess has brought them before, to these
parts, and very likely to their friends! So I drew
pictures of curly bangs and straight, and they chose
the curly. The stewardess cut off bits of their hair
to match. I introduced Sefior Vanete to the stew-
ardess ; for he is government agent at Campeche, who
must come on board every trip, and she will give the
bangs to him, and he will entregarlos to the Senori-
tas. I had just learned this word " entregar " in my
meisterschaft, and very useful it was.
They gave me the Mexican pesos (the wretch of
a stewardess pretended the bangs would cost five dol-
lars a piece) and I gave it to her. The Senoritas put
on fresh powder at my looking-glass, we kissed all
round, and they put off for shore, while we got up
steam and sailed away. This alone would have made
a stirring day of it, and we went joyfully to dinner
after their departure ; but had to leave coffee and fly
to the bow, for an annular eclipse was going on ! We
were just in line for it, as it wasn't visible above
Tampico. It was wonderfully lovely, a sight for a
life-time. It came on gradually as the sun was set-
ting, and at first we could only look at it through the
captain's sextant, it was so dazzling. Just as it
touched the horizon it blazed out in fiery splendour
to the naked eye from a cloud which had hidden it
a minute or two. It was almost fearful, such a new
sign in the heavens. Then it sank, becoming like a
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATLWUCK 155
fairy car; then it disappeared gradually till only the
upper horn was there ; then a gleam like a lighthouse
and then — gone ! The brilliant after-glow had gaps
of darkness in it as we sometimes see at Matunuck.
Our good captain was greatly pleased at the success
of his entertainment. I think I had best wind this
up now, as we land to-morrow early, unless we catch
a norther before reaching Vera Cruz. . . .
Yrs.,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Patzcuaro, Wednesday, March 17, 1886.
dear luc, . . . On Friday about noon we alighted
at this hotel. I wish I could accustom you to these
porte-cocheres leading through the house to the patio,
the stairs let into the house opening on the upper
gallery, which is adorned with great red wooden pots
of blooming plants. On this gallery open all the
rooms with glass double doors, and the rooms lead
through to the square, where they overlook the scene
from little balconies. There was a good deal of
scrimmage with our big party, before we got settled
into the rooms. The hosts knew absolutely no word
of any known language but Spanish, and the mozos
are Indian, who are slow to comprehend my conver-
sation. The hotel is lovely, clean, odd, and different,
but the beds are fearful ! a simple board, really, with
no spring to it whatever, and on top, a thin sort of
mattress, and two bolsters like logs of wood. My
little pillow, therefore, is very grateful. The food is
also very singular, and the delicate stomachs of the
party touch nothing of it. I don't mind that, but I
must say I regret the bed, for it has started up my
sciatic nerve, and it is agony to turn over. However,
it wears off daytimes, and I merely mention it as
an incident du voyage. I am interpreter for the
156 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
party, although Mr. Church does perfectly well about
ordering things, but you know it is always on the
one that knows most that the brunt falls. Mr. War-
ner is rather funny but perfectly distracting in mix-
ing up words partly on purpose. He tells me to order
beer, for instance, and then just as the mozo has
grasped the idea, he says " leche v to him merely for
a joke, and then is disappointed when milk comes.
In fact the rest of Friday was rather trying all round.
It was very cold. ... I thought sadly of my trunk
full of warm things at the Morelia station, which I
might have brought just as well, since we had the
whole coach to ourselves coming. There is a howling
wind at Patzcuaro which swoops down the open top
of the patio; in fact, this is not the right season to
be here; they say the winds cease in April.
However, Mr. Brown and I carried the thing
through by our lively spirits (perhaps a little forced
for the occasion), and by an early hour we were all
on bed, with towels and water and more blankets
ordered by me in all the rooms.
Saturday started better. They were rested and
began to see the delightful charm of the character-
istic village. We look down on a great plaza planted
with old ash-trees. The natives squat about selling
things. There is a great fountain in the middle —
and when we clap our hands, Vincenzo runs out with
two great tin pails, and dips up ice-cold water. I
began a sketch down by the front door, and all Patz-
cuaro came round to look on. They were very nice,
and when they pressd too close I waved them back
saying, "No puedo dibujar" then the little boys
would smile with their white teeth, and whisper, " No
puede dibujar/' and when new ones came they would
explain it to them. They found a natural screen
from the sun which grew hot, — they didn't smell
very well, but that was no harm. When it was all
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 157
over, and I had come up-stairs, a man appeared
below, whose conversation I understood with great
difficulty. After a long time it came out that he had
rim to fetch a soldado to protect me from the crowd,
and lo! there was the soldado with musket (fife and
drum, not these latter) clad in the white uniform of
the country. They were quite disappointed that I
would not come out and dibujar some more to utilize
the soldado. Meantime Downie with Messrs. Warner
and Brown skipped up to the top of a mountain
where there is a delightful view of the lake, and all
had good appetites for the singular food furnished
us. No sooner had we arrived than people began
to call on us, who had known Mr. Church here before.
At every minute I was called from whatever I was
doing to interpret these visitors, and it happens so
still, so that I have very little time to write or sketch.
Of these amiable gentlemen of Patzcuaro I will select
two for mention, as they have become our intimate
friends. One is Senor Pablo Plata, who keeps the
diligences between here and the railroad. When I
consulted him about expeditions, he said he would
furnish horses, mozos and everything to go to Tzint-
zuntzan. This seemed passing strange before we
found out he was the diligence man. You see the
Churches can't do much, but Mr. Warner is wild to
be heiking about. To cut short endless discussions
in Spanish and English, Mr. W. and I started on
two horses Monday morning, to make that expedi-
tion. The Browns left at about the same time in
diligence on their way home to Estados Unidos, via
Mexico, so that was the last of them.
I was very averse to taking this trip partly through
fear of the horse, partly on account of leaving the
Churches, and also because I had absolutely nothing
proper to wear on horseback, all my thick things, as
previously remarked, being at Morelia. It is a long
158 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
trip of thirty miles, there and back, and I was by
no means rested yet since the steamer and the rapid
transit hither. But Mr. Warner was determined I
should go to do his Spanish, and Mr. Church also
urged me to, as a chance not to be lost.
So with a heart low in my boots I descended to the
patio to subir my caballo. Now what do you think
I had on for a riding habit ? — my striped blue and
red dressing-gown! I wore under it my old brown
satin skirt, and looped up the tail of the wrapper
over this in walking, but on the horse it hung down
quite long and clingy. It was belted with the maroon
belt of my travelling dress, and I wore my old " land
and water" felt hat (maroon, of last summer) firmly
pinned and tied on. Furthermore, Senor Pablo, by
request, brought a serape which I wound about my
legs, and then clomb from a chair into a sorry saddle,
boosted by two Arabs, — I mean Indios; Mr. War-
ner, you may well believe, was fully occupied by his
mount. My sciatic nerve made my left leg so stiff
that it was only with agony I got it in the stirrup.
I was ready to cry, really. Mr. W. and Don Pablo
started off at a lively trot out of the archway, and
I and my caballo came after with the mozo. Just
as we reached the street my horse planted his feet,
began to back, turn round and do other sudden things
like the camel, which swayed me in my uncertain
seat. All the Indios began to " shew " and " shish '
at him, which made him act worse. I suppose I
pressed my foot too much in the stirrup, snap went
its strap, and it clattered down on the pavement!
This was lucky, for it was a rotten old bit of leather.
I was now in despair. Mrs. Church was leaning on
the balcony above, and I cried out, " I don't believe
I can go! " (You know I had never wished to for
an instant.)
However, mozos had run after Don Pablo, and they
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 159
came back ; a small piece of string was discovered
somewhere in the town and my stirrup tied on again.
I beseeched Mr. Warner not to go off so far again
(not that he was any good, but Don Pablo was), and
we all set off. Mr. Warner was on a great, beautiful
black mule, and he was utterly happy. And now the
tone changes, for in a very few minutes I became
used to the saddle and the horse, which was very
gentle. The rest of the straps seemed stout and
strong and there was no further difficulty. The ex-
pedition was most interesting; the day was lovely.
Pablo and I prattled lightly in Spanish all the way,
and Mr. Warner was kind and attentive, and as al-
ways very agreeable. As soon as I tasted blood of
being on a horse all my ancient love of it revived,
and coming home I trotted almost all the way with-
out the slightest fear.
Tzintzuntzan is a very ancient Indian village.
The palace of King Caltzontzi was in the neighbour-
hood ; we saw the pile of stones, its ruins. The town
was the seat of the earliest bishopric in Michoacan,
and the first viceroys built churches and made good
roads to it. All that has now gone by, but it is in-
teresting for its primitive Indian population, and
besides, there is a picture in the church well worth
seeing. If not by Titian, which is very probable,
it is by somebody who knew how. There is a por-
trait of Philip II in the corner, one of the figures,
and the legend is that he sent it over here to his
faithful subjects in Tzintzuntzan.
The Churches went over there to see it a couple
of years ago, in canoes on the lake ; but we were told
that now the winds are so strong it would be vain to
try getting there and back on the lake. Hence the
horses.
The lake, you must know, is twenty miles long, and
surrounded by beautiful mountains, which, as we, at
160 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
the foot of them, are over six thousand feet up, must
be ten or eleven thousand feet high. Our road went
winding along the shore, sometimes climbing spurs
of high land running out into the water. The weather
was delicious like our June, not too hot, but not the
least cold. The country is parched and bare wait-
ing for rains which begin in April. It all looks dry
and dreary; cracked and dusty, yet the peach trees
are in blossom, and wild cherry, and hawthorn, and
Eupatorium grows every where on bushes ten feet
high massed with white blossoms. The other things
look like October, thistles and asters gone to seed,
and the like. But there are lots of pretty flowers of
the labiate tribe, all colours, and a pale poppy with
prickly leaves. Then we kept meeting Indios bring-
ing loads of pottery on their backs, brown men, mod-
erately clad in dirty white, with bare legs, hurrying
along at a short trot they have,
which gets them over the
ground though it seems not to.
But this must go.
We left here about seven in
the morning, and got to Tzint-
zuntzan at ten-thirty. We
alighted from our horses un-
der a tree in the middle of the town, there being
no inn, and stood and looked about us. I strolled
through a tumble-down gateway into a snarly place
where great huge pink roses were sprawling on
vines, and two blue women with red jugs were
drawing water at a yellow stone well. Then Don
Pablo took us into the Hall of Justice where there
was a coat of arms of three Aztec kings with one of
them, Catlzontzi, quartered just as he was embracing
the Christian faith, — I mean quartered on the coat
of arms. After this we went to the church where
EUKOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 161
the picture is; it is in a waste place planted with
immense olive-trees so old they are tumbling to pieces.
The church has a quiet cloister with round arches,
painted pink and yellow as everything is here; the
picture is in the sacristy. It is fine and very im-
pressive, Christ borne from the sepulchre, surrounded
by the women, St. John, etc., a bit of very Titian-
esque landscape in the distance. It is startling to
see a picture so fine (whoever painted it) in this
strange place where all the church decorations are
of the most crude description, in a barn-like sacristy,
not very different from the Da Vinci " Last Supper "
stable. There is no date, no signature, and only
the scantest legend. The Republica seems to take
no interest in it, — it neither steals nor protects it.
The Indios stood about with heads uncovered while
we studied it, and Mr. Warner wrote a careful de-
scription of the figures. He, of course, is sight-seeing
to write later.
We then strolled down to a friend of Don Pablo's
to eat our food. . . . This friend of Don Pablo's
was a lady who lived in a corner of a street in a little
adobe house with tiled roof like the rest. There was
a little shop with counter through which we passed
to a great room with no windows to it, lighted only
by that door and another one which opened into a
bright garden. She was for shutting this door so
the perro needn't come in, but I said I would see to
the perro. The floor was but the trodden earth, the
sides of ramshakly wood; — the garden was very
pretty and sunny, contained, besides cactuses, of
which the woman gave us beautiful blossoms, a pig
and a dog, two cats, two children, and a little miss
of thirteen years, in a blue rebozo.
While my men went off somewhere with the horses,
I took our package of food put up at this hotel before
we started, fetched a wooden table out into the light
162 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
part of the room by the door, called for plates, knives,
forks, etc. The lady took these from a sort of shelves
she had, but she only owned two forks and two tum-
blers; there was a mug of Guadalajara ware we used
for the third. The children stood amazed as I did
these things, and the cats came round and mewed for
food. Our parcel contained one lean hen stuffed
with arroz, three hunks of Mexican bread, a piece of
hard cheese, and two bottles wine, — their claret, not
bad. I carved the hen with a knife and my fingers,
for the tenedor (fork) bent double as I stuck it in
the hardened breast of the bird. Then I summoned
Dons Warner and Pablo, and we ate rapturously of
our meal — giving the carcass and bread to the mozo,
and small bones to the two cats, who sate by and
mewed. The small child yelled and was spanked by
his mama. Then we thanked them all round and
went away.
We walked down to the shore of the lake, and saw
men pull in nets with which they were catching a
small white fish, which abounds; we went to several
pottery places where they always gave us pockets full
of little toy ware. Then I made a very hasty sketch,
we looked once more at the noble picture, and then
mounted again at about 3 : 30 p. m. to ride back. It
seemed perfect rest to get up on the horse again after
dragging round the ill-paved streets. Every body
wished us good-bye, and we trotted out of town
gaily.
The ride back was lovely facing the west, the wind
made ripples in the lake which broke like surf upon
the shore. Don Pablo went fast asleep on his good,
white steed, and I was glad of a let-up of Spanish
conversation.
This excursion, so successful, determined Mr. War-
ner to go on to TJruapan, forty-five miles off, on the
same mule, and he wanted me to go too. I was
EUROPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 163
tempted to, for we are all dying to get there, but
there is no road whatever to speak of, so it is out of
the question for Churches. Don Pablo agreed to go,
and to manage the whole thing, and in the end he
set out with Mr. Warner Wednesday morning; but
by great strength of will I succeeded in keeping out
of it. It would have been fearfully tiring, for they
come back to-morrow! One day to go, forty-five
miles, one to stay, sight-seeing and no rest, and one
to come back. I have rejoiced unceasingly that I
did not go, but Mr. W. was pretty wroth with me,
and tried to make the Churches make me go; but
Mr. C, in fact, the Mexicans, all said it was too hard
a journey. . . .
We now come to our second hospitable friend,
Sefior Pancho Arriaga, whose brother married the
sister of Don Pablo. Why he is so devoted we can't
imagine, but he every day devises some nice thing
to do. Tuesday he heiked us all forth early in the
morning to the lake, which is two or three miles away
from the town, Mr. Church in a sedan chair (my
dear! like yours, only blue!) and Mrs. C, Downie,
and I on donkeys. We went to the Hacienda de
Ybarra, which his father used to own, and there we
embarked in a canoa (or dug-out) and were spooned
about the lake, landed at a village where there is a
picture of some merit, a Madonna, date, 1702, but
not very interesting, except that it is in a sort of
pigsty, and belongs to a native Indian woman, hav-
ing been in her family for sixty years.
We loved the donkey business so that we arranged
for another trip the next day. That was Wednesday
p. m. I sketched in the morning ; at four Sefior
Pancho came for us, and the cavalcade proceeded
as before, Seiior P. always on his own horse, hung
about with lorgnons, guns, umbrellas, etc., and on the
lake he shot a Gallina, a strange bluish water-fowl,
164 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
which he presented to Mr. Church. The saddle for
donkeys here is a simple saw-horse, which fits over
them in a rather agreeable manner. It shuts up flat
when not in use, like carpet-chairs. We were all very
happy on our " donks.", and this expedition up the
mountain was lovely. It is steep, looking off on the
lake, and we stopped at a rock on which Baron Hum-
boldt erst stood. The donkey-man was an old rap-
scallion, with one tooth and a white beard. The rest
of him was brown, except such scanty portions as
were covered with ragged shirt and trousers long
since white, a red woolen faja girt about his waist,
his feet tied up in flat sandals with thongs, a leathern
pouch hanging down in front, and an old serape on
his shoulders — a torn straw sombrero on his head.
I had a great deal of talk with him, though, owing
to his tooth and extraction, he avoids every consonant
in his speech, which makes it hard to comprehend.
We saw the puesta del sol from the height, and as
we came back it grew dark and was lovely moonlight.
My saw-horse came all to pieces up on the mountain,
so I got off and walked down, — but resumed the
donkey in the streets, clinging on to a fragment of
the wood.
Thursday was passed peacefully. Our course here
is thus : Downie shares my room, she gets dressed and
out about seven-thirty, then I come forth in my
riding habit (the striped dressing) clap my hands
over the railing, and Vincenzio comes running out
with a red bed-blanket round him (which I'm sorry
to say is superseding the serape), "Aqua fria, y mas
toallas!" I cry. " What ! " says V., " mas toallas! "
as if the idea of fresh towels was an absolutely new
one. To-day he informed me that the masters had
gone to mass at Santo Calvario, and had locked up
the towels before leaving, so we all had to do without.
He runs to the fountain in the square, and dips up
EUEOPE, MEXICO, MATUNUCK 165
two great pails of splendid cold water and comes
running up into the rooms to fill the basins. Slings
the old water down into the patio, and leaves with a
radiant smile. " Now, Vincenzio, you know we
others desire the coffee immediately." " Ya ! ? ? ? "
He exclaims — which is to say, "What! coffee,
now?" "Why, certainly, we always have it at las
ocho ! ' " Oh, ya ! ' he says and runs away again.
This "Ya" is deja (French), but is used for "right
off," "hurry up," etc. I have just got the hang of
it. Vincenzio now runs up with tumblers for the
coffee and a lacquered waiter heaped with different
kinds of bread. Then runs again for the coffee-pot,
and a great pot full of hot milk. He always forgets
the sugar which is kept in the ofnce-and-bar-room for
some reason, so runs to fetch that. Mr. Church
comes out and we all fall to. At twelve or there-
abouts, the same struggle begins for our next meal.
" What, ya ! " says Vincenzio. " Yes, yes, tenemoz
mucho hambre!" (We are now in that condition,
and have been nagging V. for our dinner, but he is
making the beds and can't attend to it.) The morn-
ing goes to sketching, strolling in the market, enter-
taining Don Pancho, and the like. We have comida
down-stairs in a room with no windows, a big door
on the patio. Vincenzio runs with one dish after
another. Slight naps ensue or extension on our hard
beds, and then the burros come for these expeditions.
Last evening the sunset was superb, we saw it from
a point near the lovely lake, and walked home by
moonlight, always accompanied by Don Pancho, and
doing Spanish.
Mr. Warner will be back to-night, probably, and
the whole coach is engaged for to-morrow to take us
back to Morelia, or rather to the railroad, which is
halfway. We have been a week, and it has been very
amusing. Mrs. Church is lots better, and Mr. Church
166 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
is delighted with the place. Still I am dying to see
my trunk, which may be mashed under others at the
Morelia station, and we are both longing for letters,
which must be there, I think by this time. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
CHAPTER VI
Summer at Matunuck, 1886 — Winter in Paris with
her nephew, Philip L. Hale — Spring in Spain,
1887 — Matunuck, 1887 — Matunuck again,
1888.
(1886-1888)
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, May %9, 1886.
Month last evening I left Mexico!
dear luc, — Seems as though I had skurse writ-
ten you enough this week, as I have been terrible
busy with setting to rights and the Index of Spain;
so as I don't feel like tackling my daily jorum of
said index, and do feel like writing to you, I will
anticipate the Sunday, as I may not feel like writing
then. (Not that I generally write you on Sunday,
as that is your day.)
I probably feel like addressing you because it's
deliciously warm this morning. You know it is not
always here ; yet, indeed, there is much to be desired
in that respect, for howling winds prevail most of
the time, but this morning is simply perfect. I had
my breakfast in the front door, with the sun slanting
across the porch, and all sweet airs and sounds com-
ing in. The breakfast was excellent, faultless coffee,
rich cream, brown sugar, nice butter, fresh eggs (the
gift of Cornelia Franklin), dropped by myself on
toast made of bread, providentially driven to the
door yesterday by the Wakefield baker. My pretty
china, the fruits of Christmas presents in a great
measure, enables me to have all red ware, with the
168 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
sugar in a little red Guadalajara tub. Jane suc-
ceeded this morning in only introducing one dish of
a different pattern. This is her passion, though
there are plenty of things that match, to suddenly
spring on me a blue plate, with butter, in the midst
of my red group — though just as likes the night be-
fore when all was blue, the butter came on red. But
why mention these vagaries. I don't even regret
them. ...
I believe my idea was to tell you of my walk to
Cornelia's yesterday. The days are so immensely
long, that by starting at five-thirty there is time for
anything. So I finished my old green and red plaid
skirt (which I have all ripped, sponged, and ironed,
and put together again since I came), put it on, and
strolled forth. It is enchanting outdoors, just that
fascinating hint of green to come, on all the trees.
In the distance I saw Cornelia at her tubs. It
was a pretty picture. The sun was slanting over her
old house and a mass of lilac bushes, or rather im-
mense lilac trees which overtop and surround the
house. Her celebrated fly-honeysuckle is all in
flower, and there, close to it, she stood, such a good
bit of colour, brown herself, with a red gown and
her grey, short, crisp hair blowing about her fore-
head. " Well, there, Miss Susy, I heared as you was
come! " She is cleaning "haouse," as most of them
are here, which consists in setting everything out-
doors for the moment, beds, rocking-chairs, pots and
pans, and especially stone jugs, which seem a great
article of furniture here. She was really employed
in scraping the putty from a window-casement, and
washing the panes, which she had removed from the
house, and had resting across the wash-tub. Of
course she gave me plenty "loilacs" and honey-
suckles, and eke half a dozen fresh eggs in a peach
basket, which proved to be eight when I got them
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 169
home, which I did in great fear and trembling, on
account of so many fences to climb, as I came all up
round Long Pond, . . . pausing for the sunset on
Ingham's peak. It was a quarter of eight when I
arrived here, found Jane " loighting " the fire, not
yet quite dark.
I've got a great mass of lilacs and dwarf cherry
blossom in my Appleton vase, which, though broken,
lends itself to these uses. Real Solomon' s-seal and
eurigeron or robins' plantain in a blue beer-mug,
wistaria from Aunty in my red bowl. These two on
the mantelpiece. Fly-honeysuckle in my glass jug,
— and Margy's glass pail full of great jack-in-the-
pulpits, side-saddle flower, trientalis and two are-
thusas on my davenport where I write. Jander sits
on the corner shelf, and the donkey by the hearth.
'Palus keeps the bookcase doors to. Thus you see
how delightfully dawdling it is, — as I just stopped
to look out the Aster in the Botany. But I am busy
all day long; the great sticker is the length of time
required to read the newspapers ! I take in three,
the Daily, Prov. Journal, and N. Y. Coram. Adver-
tiser, which being an evening paper, gets here quite
fresh the next day, — thus I have news of three
periods, morning before, evening before, and same
day. As they all say the same thing, — spiders, with
eyes all round, would read them at the same time ■ —
since it is only necessary for the brain to grasp one
impression which could be done at once. (This sug-
gestion seems to me quite in your vein.)
You see I breakfast at seven-thirty. Pool outdoors
with killing aphides and the like till about eight-
thirty. Write letters till early mail, then do Index
till " abaout " noon. Then see about dinner, perhaps
cook something, otherwise clear out closets, drawers,
rooms, attics, of which there seems always no end.
Dinner table set anywhere it is warm enough, either
170 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
by sun or wood-fire, if required. Newspapers and
outdoors dawdling till 2 p. m. then sewing till five,
diversified by p. m. tea. Long walks or visit to
Aunty, or both, — home, as aforesaid, for evening
meal (slight) at eight — then more newspapers, and
whatever novel there is time for till nine, bedtime —
but last night I sate with Jander over " La Morte "
and crackling fire till ten-thirty! Ain't it nice!
Yours,
SUSE.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September H, 1886.
. . . The young people had a merry time here
through August and went off singing my praises and
those of Hotel Susan. But there is a good deal of
clatter and bang about running such a household, and
I now feel like a fool, or a squeezed lemon, or a
pricked balloon, or any of these things. There is
nobody here now but Philip, may the Lord be
praised! . . .
We have all been writing Lives of Great Men,
which all of course remind us we can make our lives
sublime, but also give us a good sum of money, for
a sort of text-book for schools, telling who borned
them and when they died. It was a great hack job
for a publisher, and Jack, Nelly, Papa, and I have
been cramming up and scribbling down at the rate
of two lives in three days, — Schiller, Rousseau, Car-
ry le, etc., etc., — eighty of them! We couldn't open
our mouths without a date or a fact coming out in
the life of some great man. We are getting over it
a little now, and don't mention an incident in the
life of Burns or Voltaire oftener than once in half
an hour. . . .
Susan.
MATUNUCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 171
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Ehode Island, Tuesday,
September 14, 1886.
dear luc, . . . We settled down to a nice little
trio, and I was glad to have Papa taste the sweets
of the small regime; we breakfast and dine on the
piazza, which he greatly likes, and don't seriously
object to the superior luxuries of cooking which be-
come possible. We at once (all three in fact) fell
to on " Lives," and nothing was heard but the scratch-
ing of pens, and some incident in the life of a great
man dropping from the cyclopedia into the mill. I
finished Schiller and Voltaire, and prepared the an-
ecdotes for Papa's " Victor Hugo." Phil, did most
of his " Goethe," and he himself (with dictation and
much reading aloud by me of Longfellow) did Burns,
Tennyson, Longfellow, Goethe, Emerson, and Hugo,
in the days between Thursday and Monday p. m.,
besides his leader for Lend-a-Hand and getting up
the oration for cattle fair!
Yours,
Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Chateau Lafite, Wednesday,
January 19, 1887.
dear luc, — It is raining, just simply raining as
it might any northeast day at Matunuck, and not too
cold for me to sit up in the fumoir to write. . . .
Vendredi, le £1, January, 1887.
Figurez-vous, ma soeur, la plaisir de me trouver
encore une fois sur le pont, apres deux jours d'un
temps affreux (but not dangerous at all). In other
words, the same day I was waiting, we found our-
172 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
selves le soir in le trou des diables, in English "off
the Banks/' for it seems we were not yet rid of New-
foundland. Such a racket and toss there was that
night, bang, bang, bang, slattery, rattly, everything
on the loose, and not a moment quiet till the morning ;
everybody sick again, and only " man commandant '
and me at breakfast. The trouble is, besides, that
with the deck so wet and everything shut on account
of great seas, it was impossible to get any air. But
last evening it was calm, and to-day, after a lovely
night of sleep, I mounted to find delicious sunshine
for the first time in five days, and the sky all fleecy
Avith delicious clouds. Philip and I have been walk-
ing about and afterwards basking on deck, and it is
just as nice as summer, with ordinary wraps. The
first time I have put on my boots for many a day,
slippers sufficing below.
I will now give you some account of our passen-
gers, who are really very amusing. (I feel, by the
way, that my voyage letter is always a mere repeti-
tion of the last trip I made whatever it was, but that
can't be helped.) The captain is very worthy. I sit
on his right ; he comes swooping along the deck from
his passerelle, to meals, like Neptune, in bad weather,
all done up in tarpaulins, which he sheds in the
fumoir. I am generally there getting a little air, and
perhaps Philip is, also, whom the captain encourages,
both as to his French and his mal de mer. You must
know there is a cat on board, the sweetest pussy, be-
longing to the captain. He is " verry " nice with her,
and she sits up in the empty chairs swaying from
side to side with the motion of the ship, like any old
salt, at all the meals.
Next the captain, a gauche, and opposite me is a
great personage we call Maximilian. He is Secretary
of State in Mexico, lives in Guadalajara, saw shot
Vempereur, apparently, speaks five languages, and
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 173
lies copiously in all. A very lively camarade, owns
to fifty-two years. Just the kind of man to exist on
a voyage or in a novel. He talks English very well,
but we use French on account of the captain, and the
yarns of these two on every subject, from the life of
the inhabitants of Jupiter to the habits of the por-
poise, are well worth listening to. Next Maximilian
sits the Dominie, a Scotch Parson born in America,
with a very slow voice. He tries to do a little French
prepared beforehand, every day, as, " Avez-vous oys-
ters en France ? ' to which the obliging captain re-
plies, " Oh, yes, so much ! ' Next is the Inca, or
Argentine, a young, handsome South American, who
has just had his fling in New York, and is going
back to B. Ayres via Bordeaux. He speaks a little
English, a little French, mostly Spanish; is very
intelligent about Chili and Peru, often discussed at
table; but I fancy he drinks in the evening by him-
self. Perhaps not. Next me comes Philip, but more
frequently goes — for he bravely each time places
himself at table to snatch the fearful joy of a chop,
and then disappears to get rid of it. Next him But-
ler, an Ohio boy, with great black eyes like a faithful
hound, and the same sort of patient endurance. He
isn't sick, but don't say much. Philip is fond of
him and I accept him, just as if he had been round
from the beginning of the world. He has found a
companion we call the " Laundry-man," who sits at
the other table. For this is the whole of our table
now described; at the other, are or ought to be, la
dame et son mari, sl little squealing Parisienne, nou-
velle mariee, who prefers to lie on the sofa by our
table all the time, and be petted by Maximilian, the
Inca, and her husband, Edouard, who is a poor thing,
chetif and pale; they are going to Barcelone, and
have a valet and femme de chambre, in the other part
of the ship. These play cards in the evening, and
174 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
talk disgusting French nonsense most of the time;
we have no great commerce with them. But the
table-talk is immensely amusing to follow and join.
Well, then, there ?s Sophie, the femme de chambre,
just getting over her sickness, Alsacienne, very loqua-
cious. She makes Philip talk, and thinks he will
soon learn French. Also Avril, a very worthy gargon
with whiskers, who takes an intense interest in us;
and " Maitre-d 'Hotel" the head (and only) steward,
who is sad and superior, but friendly.
Evenings, I read " She" in the salon to Philip lying
on the sofa there ; at eight they bring a vile stuif they
call "tea," with little biscuits. Everybody is there,
but such a racket of rolling, there is not much com-
merce. Only Butler plays sometimes, on the piano,
all sorts of things by ear, like Berty. But to-day all
changes with the lovely weather, and all the world
is laughing.
Et maintenant nous sommes arrives au dimanchey
23 d, — going on very well, with lovely weather.
We came out of the trou des diables all safe, and in
the balmy air of the Azores (three hundred miles
away) found a true del de Mexique as "Maximil-
ian" says. I find it a very agreeable voyage. . . .
I love to engage Maximilian in great yarns, when
he is not playing cards with the squealing French
dame et son mari. She has lately taken on a new
access of mal de mer, and don't appear. He is chock
full of Mexican tales, which, if I could keep them
in my head, would be great for my book, if, more-
over, I could believe them. He told us at length, in
English last evening, the shooting of Maximilian
which he saw, and how he himself escaped to Vera
Cruz afterwards and went straight to the Empress
at Vienna. His propriete is all in Michoacan and
Jalisco, and he has crossed from Guadalajara to
Patzcuaro over Lake Chapula, the very way Churches
MATUMTCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 175
are dying to go, only we didn't know how. He
swears the P. R. to Guadalajara will be done next
November, and promises me letters to sa famille and
all the notables of G. This will water the mouths of
Churches and Janviers! Altogether he reminds me
a good deal of T. G. A. in his endless resource of
anecdote, and cheerfulness. . . .
Va sans dire that he lies like a Mexican — Espa-
gnol, Francais, — but what does that signify to fill
up the time ? He is in the Mexican Corps Diploma-
tique, his title is Secretary, but he is not so high in
office as he should be, a cause de his imperialistic
tendencies. Spent last winter in Washington, and
is now sent to London.
Funny thing, as there is no printed list of pas-
sengers, nobody knows anybody's name. Perhaps you
do ! If you have seen any list of our passengers, send
it to me! P. S. His name is Pacheco. Good
name. . .
Mercredi, %6.
Well, well, my dear, ce Golfe de Gascoigne ! Since
writing this last we have been through a frightful
racket. It began to roll soon after I stopped writ-
ing above, and by bedtime things were very wobbly.
It seemed my bed was wet through with drippings
from the deck; so they changed me over to the other
side; but the fence to this new bed was not high
enough, so that all night, I slept but few winks, for
there was a devil of weather, rolling, clothing bang-
ing, and waking every minute to clutch at some-
thing, for I was really afraid of falling out into the
swamp, full of riparian reptiles, which we call my
carpet. In the morning I was the only one up. The
captain didn't come to breakfast, and Max, when he
arrived, was in a bad humour, on account of the
rough night, and his bed being wet; but this was
176 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
nothing to the day we passed later on, the worst busi-
ness I have ever had at sea. Phil, lay on one sofa,
I on the other, braced against the table by my legs
at right angles, to prevent falling off. Great seas
sloshing over the ship with a whang ! bang ! and from
time to time, crash! some glass broken, which let
buckets of water down to the entry pouring down-
stairs then leaping in here, and wetting all the floor.
By three it grew dark, for it was pouring and blow-
ing. The servants hollered French to each other and
sopped up here and there, shrieking for the carpenter,
who never came. We seemed sort of abandoned at
our end of the ship, for the deck was almost impas-
sable and the captain and all, were away off at the
other end. Finally the cook made his appearance,
and a great parley was held. Meanwhile Max, But-
ler, and I met in the salle a manger, holding on to
posts and chatted a little. At dinner time a brave
marin all in tarpaulins brought the soup, and after-
wards the other dishes; for you understand the
kitchen is well forward, and all the dishes have to
cross the whole length of the ship with great seas
breaking over at every moment. We had a merry
meal, holding glasses and plates not to slop. The
Laundry-man leaned back in his chair, and it broke
off all the legs, precipitating him under the table.
He got up with a pain in his back, and renounced
the idea of dinner. The Argentine was in bed, so
was la dame. The captain could not join us. Pussy
sat in his chair; she is very lovely, and slants with
the motion of the ship till she is nearly parallel.
Every few minutes, slash ! a great wave sweeps over
the ship, sets everything sliding, pours down every
crack ; the lamps swing and smoke, we laugh, or look
serious, and wonder what next ! Such is de Golfe de
Gascoigne. Heureusement, it got more quiet before
bedtime. I had a new plank put up in the bed, and
MATUNUCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 177
Butler lent me his pillow, mine being wet through.
A delicious quiet pervaded the ship, and we all slept
like angels, to the calm, regular motion of a reason-
able ocean. This morning the storm is over, the sun
shines, we are all on deck, and all the world is
happy. But we are detained by all this twenty-four
hours, and shan't arrive, apparently, till Thursday
night. . . .
Yours,
Sttse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
13 rue d' Alger, Paris, Friday,
February 18, 1887.
dear luc, — ... I will go on to narrate
Wednesday, which was a rather interesting day.
(They are all interesting as they go on; I am hav-
ing a splendid time, but not all worth writing about. )
I gat me forth after the labours of my writing, about
twelve, as usual, and started for lunch, stopping at
the tobacco shop to stamp my letters. The Church
St. Koch is just opposite, and people were swarming
in. " C est un enterrement? " I asked of the tobacco-
lady, — for it generally is. " Oh, no, marm, it 's
une noce." Une noce! so I thought I would go over
and see. I slipt in at the side door behind a cou-
turVere's girl going home with a bandbox, and found
myself in a somewhat crowd inside, but could step
up on a sort of height where I saw well the broad
aisle. At the door there were two gold-sticks in wait-
ing, in old gold and crushed-strawberry liveries, and
two by two the guests came in and stood in the aisle
sideways until it was all filled up in rows on each
side, understand ? These persons were pretty young
girls in light or white street costumes with hats or
bonnets, stout mamas, or praiseworthy fathers, the
latter in dress-suits, white cravats, and white kid
178 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
gloves. An old gentleman next me, who engaged me
in conversation, told me these were the "parents et
les invites" because they came in carriages, the other
people filling up what would be pews, only there are
none, were des curieux, like ourselves. This person
by the way, feigned amazement that I was etrangere,
"Mais vous habitez Paris, Madame!" We couldn't
talk much for the gold-sticks came down with a great
pung ! " Ce sont les mariees" my man whispered ;
the band, I mean organ, set up Da ! Da ! dy dar-dy
da-dy (i.e., Mendelssohn's wedding march), and the
party pranced up the aisle much as with us, and van-
ished among the candles far away upon the altar,
the bride with veil, on the arm of her parent or
guardian, the mother I guess with her gendre to be,
and then all " les invites" who had been in rows, fell
in behind and made a procession which ate up its
own tail so to speak, those being first which were
last, according to Scripture. I went away then, for
no use trying to get near the ceremony. All this
made me late to lunch, and the friendly Duval man
and maids said, "Monsieur est parti, Madame"
Deja!' I ejaculated, and ate alone. I then went
up Opera Street and across the town to our dreary
bankers to haul out some money. The usual moss
on the doorstep, signs of decay and decrepitude ; dust
in heaps on the book of arrivals, and our names the
last inscribed. The clerk waked from the nap he
dropped into ten days ago when we left him, and
handed me a letter which arrived just after that
event. Managed to find some aged billets de banque
for me, scraped the mould from the ink bottle and
furnished me with the first steel pen ever coined.
Forgive this waste of paper on this faded pleasantry ;
but such is Perier Freres.
Being in that region I accomplished a visit on our
excellent compagnons de voyage from Bordeaux, I
a
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 179
must have written about them, they were so cordial
in the train, and I had promised to visit them. They
are milliners, and have an immense great maison de
modes, " Madame Valerie Leopold," in a great sign
all across the building. I found her sitting among
customers and bonnets on sticks just like any grand
milliner chez nous. The madame she was waiting
on was telling her about her son's marriage which
she had just got nicely fixed, with a suitable dot and
unexceptionable daughter (joke!). She sighed as
she spoke and Madame Valerie heaved a fat sigh and
said,
" Le mariaqe ! c'est la destinee ! "
" Oui, Madame! c'est la destinee! Bonjour,
Madame"
" Bon jour, Madame."
Meanwhile I had been persuading the head wait-
ing-woman to do over my small green bonnet then
on my head (and they have sent for it, and it hasn't
come back yet), and then Madame Valerie, being at
leisure, sent for her mart and we had great epanche-
ments. I consulted them on many things; in fact,
they are useful friends, Parisian to the end of their
finger-nails, with no object in cheating me. They
told me of an apartment, big studio, bedroom and
kitchen, for five hundred francs, one hundred dollars
a year ! and if I were to live here with Phil., we could
establish a nice little menage. Not furnished, you
know, but as Madame remarked, mon dieu, the trifle
to throw in a bed and quelques meubles. But don't
be alarmed I shall be home by May 1. These folks
live over in Chateaudon, so not far from rue Ber-
gere, where I sort of think the Marcous were ; a very
good neighbourhood.
I then filled up half an hour with the enchanting
water-colour exhibition, second time seeing, and at
quarter of four took cab for Mrs. Greene who expects
180 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
us every Wednesday — but Phil, was busy. There
this time were Dr. Sturgis Hooper and Mary Ed-
mund Quincy again. She is really very bright and
nice. I say young — call it forty. After Dr. Hooper
left we had a great talk a trois, — just what Mrs.
Greene likes, gossip, politics, Jews, Buddhism, Bos-
ton, really very good fun, — interrupted by a young
Shaw nephew and his pretty wife, and I fled, for it
was late, and when I got home having hurtled down
the Eaubourg St. Honore on foot at a rattling pace,
Phil, had lighted the lamps, poked the fire, and begun
to wonder if I had abandoned him. You know Mrs.
Greene receives in bed, all done up in white lace with
white kid gloves on, the bed strewn with the latest
literature, newspapers, etc., a little table with tea
close to her side. (But all the rest of the week she
is up and about, rattling round to receptions, climb-
ing up-stairs, as brisk as you please — just my favour-
ite scheme of being bedridden.) . . .
Always yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
13 rue d' Alger, Paris, March W, 1887.
dear luc, — Strange things have occurred which
I must reveal before coming to the great fat budget
of letters we received yesterday, yours of March 6
and others same date, some of Phil.'s even Monday 7,
which is really quick, being within the two weeks.
Well, I am going to Spain ! I can't hardly believe
it myself, it seems so singular. It won't make much
difference to you people at home, as I shall not be,
I hope, much later in getting back, certainly before
June 1 and I leave here, — Paris, — just the same
time I had meant to. Perhaps you will have heard
of this in America and know more about it than I
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 181
do. You must know that Wednesday evening when I
came home from dining chez Mrs. Greene, I found a
telegram from ~N. Y. sent through old Periers. You
can guess if I was scared, as we were then (and are
still) worried about the accident on the Prov. R. R.
It was from Mr. Church and said : — " Will you take
a trip to Spain with Fanny and John Johnston
April 10 % Expenses paid." I was considerably
knocked at this and went to bed. Philip was out, and
I couldn't consult him till next morning, when he
visited me as usual after I had waked him at six-
thirty. ... I concluded to answer thus (by cable) :
" Delighted, if short. Must be home before June."
We then had an interval of great anguish, hoping
the Johnstons would fall out of window and break
their necks, so I need n't do anything about it — but,
lo! yesterday p. m. came the fatal flimsy, blue paper,
saying thus : " Delighted. Sail 26th for Havre ; hope
to start quickly for Seville. Johnston." . . .
You see it is a chance to go through my beloved
Spain again, and my idea is to come home in one
of those fruit-steamers from Gibraltar, so it will be
all on my way. If we get off from here the tenth,
I may sail for home by May 1 ! I suppose they are
let to ask me, because I can do a little Spanish. On
the whole, I think it is a lovely plan of the Churches
and Johnstons ; still you will pardon this goose-flesh,
caused by being so in the dark. Doubtless they are
all writing me letters to-day, which I shall get in
time to know what we are to do ; meanwhile, I don't
see my way clear about a few things, but they will
come out right, I suppose. Of course, the point is
expenses paid, otherwise I should not think of
1 i • * • •
182 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Gibraltar, Saturday, April %3, 1887,
dear luc, — Here we are, you see, under the pro-
tection of the Henglish Lion, which is a strange sen-
sation right in the thick of Spanish emotions. But
I must not describe his roar to you yet (though you
can imagine me with my very best English accent
on), for I am much behindhand in narrative. In
fact these young companions are such active travel-
lers that we have but little time to write. . . .
Sunday p. m. we had a lovely drive to Italica,
which I am delighted not to have missed. It is an
old Roman amphitheatre, which I have described
without seeing in all my works on Spain. The sweet-
est old overgrown place, with galleries and ranks of
seats still left, and traces of its old purpose, — but
poppies and all bright flowers growing in the crevices
of the old crumbly stones, and thick turf everywhere.
We came home through the fair grounds where every-
thing was in a merry state of preparation ; and
Monday morning, we were there betimes. It is
just like a great cattle show, exactly, only Spanish,
with gipsies and peasants; but, alas! they have all
given up their costumes, no majos, nor short petti-
coats nor even pannelas. However, we had lots of
fun looking at the things, booths with toys, etc. . . .
But, then, my dear, — then, — we went to the
bull-fight Monday afternoon ! ! Yes, Me, at the bull-
fight. It was perfectly horrible, sickening, disgust-
ing. I went because Miss J. was determined to go,
and you know we are interested in Mazantini, the
great toreador. On the whole it is just as well, be-
cause now I can use all my powers of speech to ex-
hort others not to go. That 's all I will say now. . . .
Rafe Curtis was on the seat in front of us in the
same box (son of Daniel, now an artist, used to be
MATUNUCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 183
little boy at my Chestnut Hill school). In the eve-
ning we went again to the fair grounds, and saw fire-
works, and then the thing to do is to walk from booth
to booth and look in. This is very amusing. These
are built close to each other along each street so to
speak (but slightly put up, as if on the Common),
and families hire them for the whole fair. Open to
the street, the three other sides are furnished with
looking-glass, sofas, etc., more or less, according to
taste, and here they sit, worthy people, inviting their
friends (or eke us) to come in. The fat mama in
a rock-chair, in mantilla and fan, and nice daughters
sitting round with guitars, and Peabody boys on
hand. These propose something, and from time to
time, you and Billy Bobby Ware (for example) get
up with castanets and dance the gavotte, while people
of all sorts crowd round the open entrance, but the
performers seem quite unconscious of these outsiders,
and when the dance is over they sit down and chat
till the spirit moves again. We hurried from one to
another to see as many as possible. There were hun-
dreds of these booths ! ! Sometimes Mary Hall would
obligingly sit at the piano, while Almira opened her
mouth and sang a kind of Andalusion caterwaul; at
others, it was as if I should do the Lapland cottagers'
song. Of course I use these names from lack of
knowing those of the Seville family ones. It was
very worthy — only they now wear, you know, just
light-grey or any woollen dresses cut like ours, with
waists, overskirts, etc., nothing like costume, except
occasionally the little children, and here and there
some pretty girls who had " dressed up " a la 8 evil-
Una, as we might at Thanksgiving — you know it
was not at all for pay, but for their own pleasure —
only hospitality demanded that the crowd should be
allowed to look on, — there was no franc or peseta
business about it whatever.
184 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
By this time we had had quite enough of the fair,
and Tuesday we were off for Cadiz, after such a wal-
lowing with Miss Butcher. She came to us, sur-
rounded us, swallowed us up; but was so kind and
useful that we loved her. You will find it hard to
picture Mary Curzon in a mantilla and prayer-book
taking Miss Johnston to see a Spanish Baron who
sells Moorish tiles ; but you must, for it ?s exact. She
wanted books to read, and Miss Johnston lent her
our Story of Spain! which she and her sister sat
up late to devour, so much they were pleased with
it . . . Good-bye, in haste.
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
" Alhambra " ! Granada, Siete Suelos,
April SO, 1887.
dear luc, — ... So I will compose myself to
narration. We are very happy to be settled to-day
in this lovely place without having to start off for
anywhere. Arrived late last night, and tumbled into
bed tired as dogs as you will see. This morning the
joy of getting at our trunks, changing clothes, etc.,
is so great that we have no thought as yet of sight-
seeing. In fact, it is simply enchanting to be here,
in a lovely salon with great windows opened wide on
little balconies, shaded by leafy elms, birds singing,
otherwise no sound but the rushing water, and an
occasional dear donkey setting up his bray. The
place has all the charm I hoped it would, coming
back, and no disappointment. . . .
We only spent one night at Gibraltar, Tuesday,
in solemn preparation for the Honda Hide. This I
want to describe to you with great detail, so I will
pass over a lively talk at the " Royal " with a jolly
MATUNUCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 185
old gentleman, who turned out later to be Sir John
Hanbury, an eminent physician, sent out to Gibraltar
for two months. He had just arrived in a P. and O.
steamer, and when the other passengers saw that we
knew " Sir John," they bowed before us in awe ; when
I turned to one of them and said, "Who was that
pleasant old gentleman who just went out?" they
gasped in amazement.
At five o'clock on Wednesday we were called, and
after the usual delays, we actually stalked out over
the clattering streets of Gibraltar on horses! Mine
was a very tall one. The procession was this: 1st.
The guide, called by us " Polonius " on account of
his characteristics. 2nd. Miss J. on a lively white
horse. 3rd. John J. on a brown horse. 4. Me, on a
great long-legged beast we named "Major Dobbin."
5. Two trunks on a mule surmounted by a man.
6. Another mule with all the rest of the baggage,
rugs, straps, etc., and our lunch. Fancy if it re-
minded me of our journey in Syria. I was fain to
compare myself with you, for, on calculating, I find
I am now four years older than you were then, and
far more decrepit ; still I held out well, and the com-
panions were very considerate of my infirmities. We
sallied out of Gibraltar towards Spain, over a nar-
row strip of land called " the neutral ground." There
is sort of a bridge there, and a toll-house; and here
my horse, who was walking very slow, thought he
would go back to Gibraltar. The others all went
ahead without noticing; I had no whip, and wasn't
sure about pulling the bridle, as it was a curb-bit.
There was a great snarl of people, donkeys, carts,
etc., and there we stuck with his head towards Gib.
" Don't be afraid ! " called the toll-man in English.
I saw Polonius galloping back, and soon he arrived,
seized, with great scorn (of my powers), the rope
round my horse's neck, and led us out of town. This
186 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
was rather a bad beginning, and ignominious, as
Miss J. is an experienced rider, but my terror was
so great that I didn't mind anything — it is so long
since I have been in practice, and this horse was so
very tall, it seemed a great distance to the ground.
I will hasten to say that Dobbin soon came to behave
very well, and I grew very happy with him. He no
longer had to be led, and, in fact, proved the best
horse of the lot on the second day, when Miss J.'s
lively animal began to flag. She, by the way, brought
all this distance a regular riding-habit, trousers, and
all, of light grey, while I climbed up my horse in
my usual dark-green travelling dress. But, after all,
.1 was just as comfortable as she was, and less bother
on touching terra firma to be in a Christian gown.
We soon began on that elation of spirits which comes
from being up early, outdoors and on horses. The
day was lovely. Gibraltar rose behind us, and we
galloped along a beach of the Mediterranean Sea
with little waves breaking over the horses' feet. (I
didn't much like this galloping business and was
thankful that ever afterwards there was no good
enough road for it, and we went on a walk.) Soon
we began to go up and up through fields delicious
with flowers, still views of the sea, but mountains
coming on in front, over a narrow bridle-path. We
rode perhaps four hours, and then stopped at a little
house to repose, — not even a posada, but just friends
of Polonius, as it were. When I came down off my
horse I was stiffer than a log, and so, indeed, were
the companions. They invited us to a pretty room,
where they set out knives, forks, etc., and by and by
when the mules arrived, Polonius brought out from
saddle-bags the lunch we had brought. Meanwhile
we were resting, wandering about a sweet garden,
gathering nasturtiums, which grow wild all through
here with a delicate sort of Dutchman's pipe, more
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 187
twining than that of 39 Highland Street. There was
a very nice Spanish cat at that place, a perro, a couple
of pigs, and hens, who all formed part of the family,
all worthy people. Again to horse, and jogging along,
the scene growing wilder. Our second rest was in
a lovely place, we called the oasis, tall trees planted
near a delicious spring, and a family living in a sort
of thatched hut with a donkey. After that we began
to follow the bed of a river, constantly fording it!
The first time we feared greatly, for the strong cur-
rent wet the stomachs of the horses, even my tall
Dobbin, but we soon got used to it and loved it. This
ri^er was very full on account of recent rains, a
brawling kind of torrent, sometimes flattened over
broad sand places, sunny, not too hot, and fresh
spring greens everywhere. The oleander, which was
so pink three years ago, is only in bud, but other
shrubs are out, and all manner of low-on-the-ground
flowers. Polonius, who is a stupid old person, ex-
pounded things in Spanish ; — he was a very faithful
guide, and knew all the right stopping places, etc.,
through constant doing the same route. We reached
the foot of the mountains about 5 p. m. After a last
rest, we began to climb, climb a very steep path,
meeting people that seemed like forty thieves coming
down with mules, scenery very wild, but not terrific.
At last awfully tired, after sunset we reached Gaucin
at the very top of everything, a beetling Moorish town
stuck up there for safety, years ago, with a Moorish
castle amongst it, the tiled roofs so brown and old
you could hardly tell where houses ended and cliffs
began. We clattered through the narrow street, all
Gaucin at our heels, and were lifted off our horses
to fall upon beds. It was a sweet hotel. The host
very worthy. A real fonda with up-stairs and down-
stairs, and a funny room for us women, with two
beds, we think belonging to the hosts themselves. In
188 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
the morning I was looking off a lovely little balcony
away down into the ravine, when a neighbour made
signs from his garden, would I like some lilacs. I
nodded, and saw him order a senora to pick them, and
then a muchacha brought them round, out of his
garden door and through a back street to our front
door. A great delicious bunch for each of us, a white
rose apiece, and a sprig of mint. All Gaucin as be-
fore was at the door to see us mount. The animals
came up from the cellar, where they had spent the
night, the packs were put on them, and after the
usual dawdling we were off for our second day on
horse, after an excellent breakfast the host made him-
self in the kitchen right off the dining-room, so we
heard him beating the eggs. I was pleased that the
hotel was so good, for at first it seemed I should have
to live there always, I was so stiff that first night;
but 'tis wonderful how a good sleep brought me round.
Thursday we were winding round a maze of moun-
tains sometimes up, sometimes down, but always
high, — now looking back towards Gaucin, now turn-
ing towards Ronda. Our lunch place was a posada
where the horses had the first place, ourselves next.
It was a paved stable, some men were playing domi-
noes at a round table, and we had a table given us to
eat our food on. All the town at the door, which
gave all the light, as there were no windows. That
day we saw few trees, and on the whole, the scenery
was not intensely interesting, not great crags, but a
great deal of somewhat monotonous up and down.
Still, it was all beautiful, flowers, flowers everywhere,
hawthorn, wild roses, no trees anywhere — at last we
began to see Honda afar off over a plain at the foot
of our hills. It took long to reach. Certainly a won-
derful place, and well worth the trip, even apart
from the fun of horses. It is very old to begin with,
Roman, then Moor, always with the reputation of
MATTOTUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 189
cantankerousness, on account of its fast position on
top a steep precipice of hundreds of feet. This again
is so mixed between old masonry and the rock that
you can't tell which is which. They built the wall
of the town into the jags of the precipice. The river
brawls at the foot, turning Moorish mills, and rushing
off to water all the fertile fields in the neighbourhood.
At last we reached it. It is a great handsome,
proud city, the new part with broad streets, alamedas,
churches, with all the honest dignity of a centre not
degraded by railroads — or even, you know, car-
riages ! In the middle of the town is a grand bridge
built over the tajo or chasm. This bridge is the
market-place and nucleus of the town. We saw the
splendid view from our horses, but next morning
went to search it thoroughly on foot. You look down,
down two hundred and fifty feet to the boiling river,
the sides are absolutely perpendicular rock worn with
age, moss-grown, ferns and cactus growing, at the
top, the houses built close to the cliff, — up the river
is seen the old Roman bridge, — down, you see, far
below, the Moorish mills, — and little people, don-
keys and things, hurrying about, the merest toys, they
are so far off. It is perfectly wonderful — I never
saw anything like it, and for once am satisfied as to
a gorge or chasm. They are usually so slanting, but
this is really perpendicular. Prom the plateau the
town is on, you look off of this jumping-off place, over
the fertile plain to snowy mountains.
The hotel is dignified and spacious. We had a
great room on the lower floor with a salon opening
from it, and a grated window looking into the street
with chairs in it on a raised dais. We only spent the
night there, got up early to go and look at the tajo
and town, and at nine, bidding farewell to Polonius
and our horses, mounted the top of a diligence for
Gobantes. We love diligence, and try to do all we
190 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
can thus. There is a splendid road all the way, in-
deed it is the bed of a railway to connect the Granada
region through Honda with Algeciras and so Cadiz.
We are glad we did it before it lost its flavour. But,
alas ! tell Nelly, how can she bear it, even at Ronda,
the costumes are all gone. Long trousers everywhere,
for men, with Yankee felt hats; plain waists and
skirts for the women, or little plaid ( ! ) shawls.
Pannelas are still worn but tied under the chin ! Is
it not sad ? We reached the R. R. at Gobantes at
two-thirty, and resumed the commonplace routine of
tickets, weighing trunks, tooting whistles, and smoke.
Reached Granada just as before, in the dark, and
drove up the lovely avenue, a small moon glimpsing
through the tall trees.
It is just as lovely here as ever, and the J.'s are
charmed. We were full willing to rest, as you now
can understand, and even to-day are doing but little.
In fact the charm of the Alhambra is to loiter round
the lovely place. We spent the p. m. there yesterday.
J. J. is too La Farge to be able to bear the renova-
tions by Contreras. In vain I suggest that the whole
thing would have tumbled down if he had n't.
Our rooms are enchanting, and to me everything
is still more beautiful than the first time, except we
Hales were so wise or so lucky in being late in all
these places. No fresas, reluctant nightingales (but
some), and the blossoms not so intensely profuse up
here — but still enough for those who do not know
better. On the other hand there is more snow on the
Sierra Nevada — and that little garden in the Al-
cazaba, Nelly, is more lovely than before, with a bed
of double anemones instead of those geraniums I
painted in my foreground.
That ?s the whole of our career up to this time,
which is Sunday morning. I am glad to have a little
room to revert to Tangier, which was very pretty and
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 191
very amusing, not half so Eastern as the East, but
enough so, and — from the fact of being a little got
up in a stagey way for the benefit of Europeans,
more Eastern than the East. For instance, the mer-
chants in the fireplaces were richly dressed in their
own best haiks, as a kind of reclame of the establish-
ment. The " Hassans " round the hotel overdid their
sashes, etc., etc. We had a very amusing donkey-
ride out into the flowery suburbs, sitting sideways on
saddle-bags. At the hotel in Tangier s is a very pleas-
ant Scotchwoman, Mrs. Lockhart. . . . And there
we met for the second or third time some charming
English people, man and his wife, who are just
turned up here again, and becoming our fast friends.
We only lately found out their names, — they are
the Lieut. Henns who were over in the Galatea for
the yacht races ! This accounts for their niceness
to Americans.
Well, well, we are just laying out the last days of
our route. I leave Madrid on Monday, May 9, for
Paris, and sail on the fourteenth, less than a fort-
night from to-day ! I long to see you, and shall not
stop in New York any longer than necessary. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Mes. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, July 2%, 1887,
(Alas! how fast it goes!)
. . . What bosh "A Week away from Time" is!
I should think Time, or anybody else, would keep
away from such a boring set of people. Poor old
Tennyson dragged in and Sir John Franklin. Have
you read " Love's Martyr" by Miss Alma-Tadema?
My young folks have been reading it with divers
opinions.
We are in full blast here. Papa turns out reams
192 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
of manuscript daily. Jack is raising worms under
glass, after Darwin. Robert paddles the canoe, with
Greta Marquand in it, a young woman of sixteen
I have thrown down to this cloud of youths, by which
I am surrounded. There is Billy and John and
George and Fred and Arthur and Herbert to come.
But no matter, while there is gosling in the larder
and broilers roving the hill. I have some nice ser-
vants, as I may have mentioned, and things go smooth.
Jane is stupendous. She has got on to the right side
of the baking powder, and her cakes and things are
so light they fly down your throat of themselves. We
keep up the form of making the bread, Robert and
I, but it 's only a ceremony, for Jane is really at the
bottom of the pan.
However, don't expect to see me at Newport, for
the whole thing turns upon my vigilant eye. Drop
a line though, now, do !
Your faithful Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, September 12, 1887.
Monday morning,
dear luc, — Sunday swept by without a minute
for writing, and eke the early mail this morning;
so now this will not get off till to-morrow, but I will
make sure of it now. My house-maid's work makes
me more busy than ever, especially in the first morn,
so I am terribly behind on letters. . . .
I will now describe yesterday that you may learn
that silence has not yet settled over Matunuck. Mr.
McElroy arrived Saturday, so he was in bed for me
to carry water to in the morning, then the whole
house to open and arrange, and breakfast table to set
for five. (Joe has ceased to come except sporadically
to fetch ice.)
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 193
Jane fears to be seen, you know, so that every time
anything is missing on the table I have to get up for
it. We are in the red room, indeed living there, for
it is very windy outside.
I washed the breakfast things while Jane made the
beds, and this with some attention to dinner, towels,
blankets, etc., took every minute till time to dress
for church and read over the Sybarite,1 which was
valiantly prepared by our three Hales, with a brief
furnished by Mr. McElroy, who is very pleasant, by
the way, and full of raconting his tales, all good and
some new. Papa was very good in tending him, but,
of course, he fell to me a good part of the time, and
what with that, setting the table and making the
salad, there was not a minute till dinner. The parent
Weedens went to lunch at the Strangs' ! so there was
no walk. Michael went off to get golden rods, and
came back so late that the tea was cold, the kitchen
fire out, and Jane gone. I scalded my hand trying
to heat some water in haste for his cup ; then saw him
and Papa off in the red boat, and took to my bed and
bag. As this had blown out of window and been
picked up by Jane, I had great trouble in finding it
poked under a newspaper in the kitchen, thus had but
just got on the bed with Ambrose and day-before's
Advertiser, which Michael had jackdawed in his
room, — when I heard steps storming up the back-
stairs, it was Papa all dripping. He had tumbled
into the pond at Julius' landing owing to a loose
plank, and was wet through to the middle of his
watch. I came off the bed, ran down and made a
fire in the red room, got hot water to make him a
jorum of his 59 ; took away his wet clothes, and then
re-began to set the table for a six-o'clock tea because
Jane wanted to go to meeting (of all things ! the first
1 A weekly paper written by the Hale family and read aloud
every Sunday after service.
194 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
time in her life). Mr. McElroy came and sate down
at the table to read me a poem of Bret Harte's, so
I folded my hands and listened to that with external
calm, as if I had absolutely nothing else to think of,
till Papa appeared in such dry clothing as he could
find, and we put him up to the fire to dry. Billy
Weeden wanted to stay to tea, so there were six, but
every one talkative and entertaining, and all of them
helped clear off the things. Jane got through and
away. Robby and I made bread. At eight the team
and Joe came to take the guests to the midnight train
at Kingston ; and at nine Hobby and I went to bed
after blanketing all round, for it was cold and rainy.
Papa seemed all right this morning, and his watch is
going.
Yours,
SUSE.
To Miss Ltjcketia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
December 29, 1887.
dear luc, — It is working splendidly, but abso-
lutely no time to write about it, for Jane and I are
busy cooking all the time that Franklin and I are
not making the beds. I wish you could get a good
idea of it. All the Weedens joined me in Providence,
and before all the Hales arrived Tuesday we had the
dormitory all fitted up. Berty, with John Diman
and George Clarke, drove up the hill with Joe Brown-
ing, and an hour later Greta with Edward (who had
waited at Kingston for her). There was a great
hubbub and a slight lunch, and then all swarmed off
to search for skating. . . .
I went out to find them about three, this was Tues-
day, and anything more lovely I can't imagine. It
snowed here all Monday night, but cleared off during
MATUNUCK, PAKIS, SPAIN 195
tlie morning. The whole country was exquisite with
a soft, iridescent sort of sky, and round, hazy sun
going down. Patches of white snow in amongst the
oak-trees, and yellow grass. The Salt-pond (that you
see from the piazza) had those houses sharp reflected,
as often in summer, but now in ice of an opaline
greenish tint. Up at the end of the little pond I
found them all skating round, or clearing off the
snow, or building a great fire, though it was warm
like summer. They all were picturesque in fur caps,
short trousers, good legs, — the girls in bright colours,
with furs, — and elated, with glowing cheeks — I
left them to come home and set the table, and the
scene outdoors was perfectly delicious. We dine at
four-thirty — Jane prefers it! says it saves her
trouble, and of course it does. The dining-room looks
sweet with fire, swinging-lamp, screen, set for nine
(our number). That night we had roast turkey,
Marlboro pie, cranberry, cauliflower, nuts and raisins,
all very jolly, — and passed the evening prattling,
with the banjo, — and forming great plans for spend-
ing all the next day on the ice.
The wind went round in the night, and in the
morning it was a pouring S. E. storm, raining so
hard that everyone who ventured out got wet through !
This was a strain on the resources of the house, but
the day passed merrily — and in the evening the boys
had a " Minstrel," performances with songs written
during the day, and a dance by Edward.
To reward them this morning it is clear again, and
new ice made, and they are all up at " Venus's Mir-
ror" skating again.
The men all sleep in the parlour with a roaring
fire, and four beds crammed as close as they can be,
and piled with blankets, washbowls on the window-
seats, and looking-glasses hung on pegs, — and up-
stairs Greta and Leila in your room, me in Papa's.
196 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Old Eranklin, all day long, goes from one fire to
another (five in the house), piling on wood. Time
for mail-man.
Yr. Suse.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Providence, April 1%, 1888.
dear Caroline, — ... I had a splendid time in
New York. People thought well of me! I had
lunches and dinners, eke flowers were sent to me.
The only objection was that the pace nearly killed
me, and I wish now to do nothing but sleep. I
stopped over for a few days with the friendly
Weedens here, to talk over the coming campaign at
Matunuck, but to-morrow I fly to the arms of Jane,
and long to be there, and to see the spring a bustin'.
I was so afraid it would or had busted before I ar-
rived, and looked anxiously from the car window lest
early golden rod should be appearing at the wayside.
By luck it hasn't quite begun, and patches of snow
still occupy the hollows.
I am much pleased with New York. There is less
gossip and more social life than in little Boston.
Your neighbours may be worse, but there is less said
about them. I really do think the interests of people's
lives are broader, certainly more varied. . . .
Always yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, October 7, 1888.
(Raining as usual.)
dear luc, — . . . Well, now, I will give some
account of myself since the Weedens' departure, only
I have elsewhere depicted that period, in letters you
may have seen.
MATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 197
On Wednesday, my dear, with great anguish I put
Clementina in the basket which contained all summer
the Globe-earned worsteds. She was so sweet ; seemed
to foresee her fate, ate a careful breakfast, and let
me put her in, although all tremblings, without a
struggle, wasn't it odd! The string was tangled in
her hind leg. She rose to adjust it, then settled her-
self on " sucking-blankets " placed at the bottom of
the basket. I carried basket down to Weedens',
speaking words of cheer on the way, and handed it
over to Nelly, the second girl. I learn that Clemen-
tina did n't stir or struggle all the way to Providence.
Nelly Balch met them at the station, and took Tina
in horse-cars to her new house; where Nelly Balch
wrote she was sleeping " comfort abils " on a couch,
not disturbed in mind by the journey. This is all
a great comfort, and an immense relief to have her
gone, though I miss her; but not to have to consider
open or shut doors, cold, the chicken bones, is a won-
derful relaxation, and as I can think of her happy
and contented, and laugh with Jander about her at-
tractive little customs, it's much better than having
her here. Nevertheless, as soon as the Weedens
were gone, I took to my bed, and stayed there all day,
and all night, without budging, or doing anything but
doze. I had quite a headache for basis of such ac-
tion, but was more worn out in mind; in fact, it
seemed a fit occasion to give up. Lizzie was sick and
in bed, unable to cook a dinner; there was nothing
in the house to eat, and no one to eat it. The Post-
office was gone, all the letters were lost, therefore
none to answer, and no way to get them anywhere,
newspapers, ditto. I had no money, and no means
of spending any. My clothes were all torn to pieces,
and a large hole in my only shoe. The Weedens were
all gone, Clementina was gone, Joe Browning was
gone with the Weedens. The Albert Sebastians were
198 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
all drunk. The Brownings had killed their large pig.
" Uncle George " was mad because the P. O. was
shut, and did n't come for the swill because there was
no Prov. Journal for him to read, besides there was n't
any swill. Now don't you think all the requisites
for giving up were here ? I gave up. ]STor must I
forget to add that it was cold, very cold, and raining,
of course ; and all the wood was so wet that none of
it would burn, so there was no fire. . . .
Bed was warm and delicious. I wasn't in a low
state of nerves, you know, nor crying, only calmly,
cheerfully, discouraged. Understand my night gown
on, and clothes all off as for the night, blinds shut,
a pleasing dark pervading the room. There was an
interlude at noon during which I rose and prepared
a delicious tomato soup out of chicken bone, put it
in two bowls on two trays with two slices of dry
toast, carried one to Lizzie's bedside and adminis-
tered it her; brought the other to my own bedside,
got into bed, and ate my own, put the bowl aside,
and much refreshed turned myself to the wall.
All was absolute silence about the house, and miles
about the country — . Suddenly, a trampling in the
entry ! I rose, and over the bannisters parleyed with
— Mr. Matlack, come to board for a week! . . .
I hawked him out of the house with a round turn
and down to Cashman's and silence fell again on the
house. By and by it was dark (a wet evening), and
then the long night ; I had a lovely rest.
And rose, at the usual hour on Thursday, a giant
refreshed. Tapped at Lizzie's door. " Lizzie, do
you feel like getting breakfast ? " " Yes'm ! " said
a hungry voice. So we began life again cheerily.
The mail-man came with letters from everywhere.
The sun came out, and I dined on the porch off
stewed duck, very delicious, with a wonderful pud-
ding Lizzie has discovered. Took a great walk in
±\1ATUNUCK, PARIS, SPAIN 199
the afternoon, and felt very happy, relieved from the
burden of humanity and cats. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, Tuesday,
October 16, 1888.
dear luc, — . . . All seems rounding well in,
now, and I am impatient to be off, although the
weather is lovely here. Saw a beautiful sunrise from
my bed this morning, having left the window open
for it, — and just two minutes after it was up, the
sun I mean, my clock struck six. The almanac says
sunrise was to be at five fifty-eight. It ?s a relief to
have the orb so punctual. At once, Lizzie came out
at your door, soon the whir of the egg-beater was
heard, and at quarter of seven, the grind of the
coffee-mill, as I sate chattering in my bath. Pond
perfectly exquisite at that window. At seven sharp
I seated myself on the porch to a succulent breakfast.
Since then, alas ! clouds and chill, and I have re-
tired to the red room and a fire. But I can't be writ-
ing you more. Only you may see how well done up
my affairs are to allow this dawdling. I read, read,
read these old novels at every moment. Let 's see :
All to be riveted in my head to stay till November !
Sir Charles 3,500 pages
Udolpho 1,700 pages
Cecilia 975 pages
Thaddeus 571)fl . .
Children of the Abbey . . . . 628)niie prmt
Yours,
Susie.
CHAPTER VII
Beadings in Chicago, Washington and New York —
Trip on yacht " Gitana " with Mr. and Mrs.
William F. Weld — Summer at Matunuch —
Another winter of lectures and readings, 1890.
(1888-1890)
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Chicago, Monday, November 5, 1888.
dear luc, — . . . The election is making a
hurrah-boys, and on Saturday there were but few at
Mr. Jones's Church, on account of two rival proces-
sions which encumbered the streets and almost pre-
vented our getting there in the cable-car, which might
be called remark-cable car, it is so fearsome.
When I get to Churches' I will try to write my
events, can't now remember where I left off!
" Udolpho " Thursday at Mrs. Babcock's was the first
great success as a reading, the folks had then found
out they were to laugh ; and it went off quite easily ;
same here the next evening, for Mrs. D. had me re-
peat it instead of Cecilia. There were lots of jolly
people here, and every one enjoyed it.
Saturday Mrs. Glessner gave me a stunning lunch,
of twelve ladies, all important. I sate between the
hostess and Mrs. Potter Palmer, a north-side mag-
nate of great importance, a very pretty little young
woman married to an ancient millionaire. We had
two butlers, and great display of table splendour, all
in good taste and as absolutely in the latest style as
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 201
possible. I like Mrs. Glessner much. She had on
a tea-gown of flowered yellow silk trimmed with rich
lace, and made smock fashion. The ice was in real
calla lilies, resting each on its own leaf in the plate.
The house is very handsome, built round its own
patio, from which comes all the light, the windows
on the street being mere slits.
Last night we tea-d ( dinner Sundays middle of day
here) at Baldwins', who love Papa Edward since
they saw him at Orange, New Jersey, years ago.
Very jolly people, we had a great deal of lively, easy
talk. Their house abuts the lake, with only a great
high pillar between, which contains on its top Fred
Douglass, preparing to dive into the lake. The lake
is perfectly enchanting, the saving of the place
for natural charm. In the morning we went for
virtue's sake to the Unitarian Church, formerly
Brooke Herford's, and heard an unutterably dull
sermon. Mrs. D. prefers Salter, who does Ethical
Morality, and married a Gibbens, sister to Mrs.
Willy James.
Dr. Dudley is delightful, I take great pleasure in
making him smile. He is full of good stories, which
I will try to remember.
Altogether 'tis very strange and amusing, some-
what fatiguing, to have to cram a novel each day, and
read it each night, but the task is waning, only three
more. Oh, I expressed on Saturday, to Belle Wil-
son, all the books I have done with, for her to return
to B. Library; and eke with them, to get it off my
mind, my own " Sir Charles Grandison," which she
may keep till December.
We are all goose-flesh about the election ; Dr. Dud-
ley is Republican, and almost every one I see is;
calling Cleveland a beast and a brute, so 'tis a very
agreeable political atmosphere. If the Reps, win,
and Chicago is sure they will, 'twill be terrible fac-
202 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
ing the mugwump Churches and Democrat Osborns.
Hark, the door-bell ? No — but ?t is time, so farewell.
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
1820 N Street, Washington, Tuesday,
January 8, 1889.
Oh, my dear, I must now again take up the labour-
ing pen, though I am most dead ; I guess writing to
you will rest me more than casting myself on the
bed. Last night was the " Elixir," a great success,
after a tumultuous day. We were not home till
twelve, so I feel like a rag to-day — but cough, let
me hasten to say, much better, and voice malleable,
without black-in-the-faceness. . . .
I dressed for 75, and Hutchinson, English maid,
and I repaired in a herdic (which we sent back) to
the Berrys'. Mrs. Van Rensselaer Berry is sister
to Mrs. Nat. Thayer. The house is very handsome,
and al] lighted with candles. Not very good for the
purpose, being long, old-fashioned drawing-rooms
(like Uncle Edward's in Summer Street), but I had
a small platform, and it did well enough. Arthur
was there, M. Hurtado, a little French attache, came
to get his orders (in French) for playing the entre-
aties. He did nicely. Hutchinson was perfect, in
dressing me, and it went without a hitch; lights,
rouge, powder, clothes, very becoming, I guess, and
all satisfactory. Do tell Miss Bolger that the blue
dress came out stunning, and that back looked young
if nothing else did. Obedient to Hutchinson, I re-
sumed that to appear in company, only fancy! with
the feather pompon atop of me !
There were swarms of real friendly souls there, so
that I was quite at ease and surrounded, and plenty
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON", NEW YORK 203
new ones introduced. Alexander Bliss, Cabot Lodge,
Langley again, young Dodge, and Eebecca, sons of
Leila Gilman, that Bristed girl I used to teach, now
married to Griffiths or Griffin, Emily Tnckerman,
her mother, — the whole Bailey Loring tribe, him-
self, Madame, and Sallie ; — it 's so long since I Ve
been at a party, it tired me bellowing at them all ;
Kitty Everett ; her young son, Leo ; Cousin Hopkins,
abandoned by all his females ; Mr. Graham Bell, and
Mrs. (who understood every word of the
" Elixir"); Mr. Eugene Hale, very demonstrative
in his praise of it; sweet Miss Clymer, I knew here
before, and her mother; my feeble mind refuses to
recall more — all very complimentary, and all ap-
parently coming to my reading this p. m.
'Tis a pity; they have so oversold the tickets that
we have moved the readings into the Sunday-school
room of the Unitarian Church. Many deprecate
this, and none more than I, but they seem to think
it can't be helped. Anyhow it's their own doings;
but it's harder for me to be colloquial from a great
platform, reading desk, and so on, than in a pretty
parlour; a little more platform last night, and less
to-day would be more to the purpose. . . . Hastily
closing,
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
1820 N Street, Washington, Friday,
January 11, 1889.
dear luc, — I will now attack another big letter
to you, for there seems signs of delightful calm.
Mrs. Hobson, wisely, plans nothing for our morn-
ings— unless I have calls from specialists, so to
speak, I have the whole morning in my room drop-
204 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
ping down on her in hers occasionally, to exchange
(literally) notes we receive, asking us to things, and
confer generally on the outlook.
I have my second reading this p. m., so seclusion
is especially well, to cram my "Female Quixote," and
rest my voice, which by the way is almost in its
normal; my nose-cold still hangs on to the great
detriment of h'd'k'f's, but that's, of course, a minor
evil.
But to the charge. I wrote Anne B. somewhat
about the first reading. It now seems seons ago. It
is terrible having it taken out of parlours and put
into a horrible Unitarian Sunday-school, but it went
off much better than I hoped, and now I have ceased
worrying about it, for it really makes much more
money. They took seventy-seven dollars at the door,
over and above the hundred or more season tickets
they had worked off beforehand ; and more are ex-
pected at every reading, as it is town-talk. Mrs.
McGuire, whose mother, old Mrs. Taylor, is one of
the earliest inhabitants and a mighty Unitarian,
offers me her cab to drive to every reading. Mrs.
Stone (president of the charity) sent me flowers,
which furnished my front. I had on my black silk,
and black French bonnet with flowers in it. When
we reached the place, I was put in a little side
" study," and here came in to me the Rev. Rush
Shippen to minister to me. He was to introduce me
(and did it very well, by the way). All my hand-
maidens had left me and I was alone with him, when
an infernal button at the back of my neck, which
holds the plastron of my shut-up waist, came undone
— no looking-glass or anything, my gloves all on.
"Mr. Shippen," said I, in despair, "can you do
a button ? "
" Well, I don't know," said the man, in a maze ;
he looked at it utterly helpless. "Ah — I — I —
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 205
will call one of the ladies," said he ; we looked out at
the door into the passageway. Luckily a swarm of
women I knew were there. I summoned them in and
amongst them they fixed me, in great merriment, —
Emily Tuckerman, Harriet Bancroft, Grace Kuhn;
and the latter (so nicely) said, "You look charm-
ingly, Miss Hale, your dress is just right." Was n't
this kind of her? — a Boston woman too! Harriet
was also very nice; they passed off to the hall, but
she came flying back in a minute, saying, " Susan !
you don't want to stand up, in a pulpit!!"
" Heavens, no ! ' She flew off again, hailed Ship-
pen to the task, they moved the pulpit, got a great
chair from the church, got a small table, glass of
water, etc. (All so shiftless this not done before-
hand ! ) I now advanced through a crowd of seateds
on each side a narrow aisle, and ascended the plat-
form. It was appalling, so ugly, and the chair was
a high-backed, slippery horse-hair sort of throne, my
feet hung down in full view of my audience, which
stretched back into dim depths of distance. My heart
sank, but I took it in both hands, and began to talk
about Sir Charles in the airiest colloquial way, as
if I were perfectly happy and at my ease — had to
bellow to fill the place, and 'tis hard to bellow col-
loquially. The effect was magic, a broad smile broke
out on every countenance, and after that every one
was just as charming as possible, and I really en-
joyed their sympathy with all I said and read. Was
not that nice? Kept seeing lots of friendly faces,
all looking real pleased, as if they thought it was
going well. It lasted two good hours, and no one
rustled or moved or got up to go. Chief trouble is
that I have to speak much slower than in a small
room, so had to omit lots I had marked to read, and,
in fact, wound the dear characters up with a round
turn, scarce dwelling on the courtship, punctilio, and
206 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
wedding. But all seemed delighted, and swarmed
about me after it was over to compliment. I can't
say too much of the niceness of Emily Tuckerman,
Harriet, Susie Loring, and a dozen others, who sate
literally at my feet and sort of egged me on by their,
what you might call, tender applause. It was a fine
representation they say of old residents, and solid
worth. Mrs. Cleveland was not there, but old Mrs.
Eolsom was, they say. I move, you know, chiefly in
Republican circles, yet not to the exclusion of Gov-
ernment people. . . .
Yours,
SUSE.
To Miss Ltjcretia P. Hale
1820 N Street, Washington, D. C.?
Tuesday, January 15, 1889.
dear luc, — ... At three, Mrs. Secretary Fair-
child came for B. and me, and we were admitted to
the White House by private entrance, that curved
perron at the back, by the way, the monument being
done like Bunker Hill and Cleopatra's needle and all
other obelisks on top of each other ; the view there is
the finest in the world.
We knew by the swell of human beings that the
reception had begun, indeed the outside was black
with masses of well-dressed people. We joined the
file and entered the Blue Room, where Mrs. Cleve-
land stood in the doorway, and along next her a row
of richly dressed young dames. Our names were given,
we shook hands and were yanked along this line, and
then let in behind, to stay in the rest of the room
while the presentations went forward. The receiv-
ing line were fenced out, as it were, by backs of sofas,
which left the Blue Room open for the favoured one
hundred or eighty, like us, while the crowd were
passed along into the East Room, and so out. More
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOEK 207
than a thousand thus passed. Meanwhile, it was a
party, where we were, of pleasing people, all unheed-
ing the stream; except we could go and watch Mrs.
Cleveland at it. She is really very distinguished
looking. Had on a white party gown, with fluffy
white feather trimming about her stately throat, but
all open and low necked. She rested her left arm
on the sofa-back, holding in that hand a white ostrich
feather fan, and hauled the people past her as if she
were landing a whale. Miss Ellen Bayard was
amongst the receiving young ladies. She that was
with Fiskes. In behind were Mrs. Hoar, Mrs.
Dawes, and Anna Dawes; Mrs. Commodore Har-
mony, Miss Leiter (perhaps the belle of Washing-
ton) lots I knew and didn't know. It was kept up
till five. My dear — Mrs. Dr. Mary Walker was in
the crowd. Horrid-looking little thing. Towards the
end the great man Cleveland came in, and we were
introduced to him.
As for the President, I was amazed to see him so
far from distinguished looking, for have n't the mug-
wumps proclaimed him as the glass of fashion, etc. ?
Mrs. C. undoubtedly is distinguished. She is taller
than her spouse. Well; we pretended to go; taking
leave of our Royal Hostess, but she begged us to stay
to tea ; so by and by we were led through the retiring
throng, a passage made for us, to the grand stairway ;
and up two flights, as it were, in the back-entry be-
tween bedrooms, tea was set out at two tables, Mrs.
Cleveland at one, and my friend Ellen Bayard at the
other. I dropped naturally into a seat by the latter,
and helped her prattle with her men, one of whom
was Captain Duvall, who had been bellowing the
names to Mrs. President all the p. m. Also Burnett
was there.
Thirty or forty people (intimes like myself) thus
remained. Of course this was the influence of Mrs.
208 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Fairchild. We came away and down the steps in
the loveliest of moonlight, the sweet peaceful scene
stretching off to the river, a contrast to the fevered
crowd within. But it is a splendid Kepublican sight,
all those well-dressed, well-behaved people filing
through the White House to do homage to their chief
magistrates. . . .
That evening, Sunday, a family dinner at the
G. B. Lorings', perhaps the pleasantest thing yet : —
only eight, thus: Mr. Loring, me next, then Senator
Hoar, Mrs. Loring; opposite the host came Mr.
Blaine, Sally Loring on his right, next General Ber-
dan, then Mrs. Hoar (Ruth, so friendly and .home-
like). All these men very talkative and nice, and
after dinner we all sate in a group and heard them
tell stories. I am quite in love with Blaine, he is
so drooped and white, and unsuccessful. As I looked
at him, I kept thinking how it would have seemed
to plunge the dagger into him a la Corday, as I in-
tended, you know, if he had not declined the nominar
tion. He is fairly worshipped here as a god in his
circle. In Washington you might say the Republican
party is Blaine ; they are so short-sighted ; their only
idea is who will look well in the White House. They
are all worrying lest Mrs. Harrison should prove not
femme du monde. . . . But Blaine, I am convinced,
will do no more harm, so I can afford to admire and
pity him. He was certainly most agreeable.
Monday, was a great lunch for me chez , im-
mensely rich people. They have a chef, and the cor-
poreal lunch was stunning. Little moulds of pate
de fois were made with suitable designs, and the
chef wept he was not informed early enough that I
was literary, because he would have made an open
book for my one, with printed page of truffle. As it
was I had the anchor of hope. A great bed of fat
red roses nearly covered the table. Ten fat stupid
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOEK 209
women were the guests, they all carried on before me
as if I was Shakespeare; a little brains goes a long
way here. I never encountered anything like it.
"My dear Miss Hale, you! such accomplishments!
You really read and spell ! " Gorged with truffles
and flattery I fled home. . . .
Then the round of K Street receptions. I like
this business greatly, which may amaze you ; at each
house the same people, in fact, all Washington tail-
ing round after each other like that picture in " Gam-
mer Grethel' of the boy with the goose. I always
see someone who leaps on me, and Mrs. Hobson is
delighted with me, because I am never on her hands
for a moment. Quiet evening, early bed; to-day a
field-day, which I leave to my next.
Yours always,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
32 Park Avenue, New York,
January %S, 1889.
dear luc, — . . . Now to return: I think I
wrote you last Wednesday morning, before the great
Warder luncheon, hope I don't repeat. The Warder
house is a great house by Richardson, in the donjon-
keep style, and therefore appropriate to Warder, ho !
It is very like the Glessner house in Chicago, where
I had a gorgeous lunch, so you may call it odd, or
just the reverse, to have it prove that Glessner is the
junior partner of Warder, and that the money that
built and runs both houses was made by the reaping-
machine that "knocked spots out of McCormick."
Only in Chicago we frankly called it a " a Reaper,"
as if we knew exactly what that meant, while in
Washington we say "some — a — form of agricul-
tural implement," with an ignorant air, as if such
210 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
knowledge were beneath us. Leaving these fine dis-
tinctions; the Warders gave me this lunch in their
keep, which is more gorgeous even than the Glessner
one. . . .
We went at one. The dining-room was darkened,
and lighted by artificial means, viz. : cut-glass cande-
labra on the table some four feet high, with banks of
candles, all in little shades. There was some gas
above, but very dim, the vasty ceilings all unillumi-
nated. Between the dining-room and the picture-
gallery is only an arcade of red marble columns and
through this vista, the large pictures (not remarkably
good, but well enough), were to be seen lighted from
concealed gas jets above them. The table fairly
sparkled with jewelled glass from Carlsbad. The
table-cloth would have amazed Mrs. " Butter "
Browning of Matunuck, for it had a broad stripe of
embroidery in white satin running the length of it.
There were men at this lunch, a mitigating feature
invented by the Warders. Mr. Warder took me, and
we sat as king and queen at the end of the long, wide
table — fourteen guests. On my other hand was
Admiral Rodgers, a handsome, charming man of
sixty-five, or thereabouts. Well, we began, and ate
and ate, and ate and ate. Mrs. Hobson and I used to
know what the courses were and how they came, but
it 's gone from me now, — anyhow there was terrapin
and saddle of venison, and pheasant, and little scal-
loped things in saucepans with silver handles, and
others in shells without handles, and shad and cucum-
bers and asparagus, and things in season and out of
season, and pain and champagne, and claret and
sherry, and Apollinaris, and real water, and all out
of beakers that sparkled and shone internally and
externally.
We sparkled and shone all that was possible under
these circumstances, faint yet pursuing as each new
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 211
thing came on, — and rose from table a little before
four. Then we moved into the picture-gallery for
coffee, and into the drawing-room for tea, and the
great, huge bank from the middle of the table of
Jacqueminot and white roses stuck with hyacinths,
was passed round for us each to take a great bunch
to carry away. Then the shutters were taken down,
and the guests carried off on them ; this is figurative,
to say we went out into the daylight, and made a few
K Street calls. Luckily we had no dinner engage-
ment, and were so dead we didn't dream of going
to the Bancroft Davis reception.
Friday was our great field-day. At one Mrs. Hob-
son and I were at Admiral Steedman's, next door,
by the way, to the Woodhull's. You know dear old
Mrs. Steedman (now nigh eighty), was one of my
first ladies to listen to Forgotten Novels, ten years
ago; and before that, I once did her brain club for
her. She has always been most kind and affectionate,
goes out now never, but gave me this breakfast. All
Washington warned me to prepare for this, as her
cooking is the most delicious of wonderful things.
She is of Philadelphia origin. And wonderful it
was. The dear old lady at one end, Rosa at the other
(her only unmarried daughter), Admiral not visible
(but he called on me one day previously), then six
really bright, agreeable women, next, me Mrs. Bacon,
who was Kate Stoughton, husband in the navy, great
friend of Charlotte Wise, but younger. She professes
to have taken a passion for me, and has missed not
a chance of seeing me, sent me delicious violets for
my last reading. On the other side Mrs. Wood, they
all like, handsome woman, western husband, lots of
money, they live in Mr. Corcoran' s very handsome
house. Opposite, Miss Turnbull, great favourite,
lived always in Washington; Miss Grey (Bessie, sis-
ter of Judge Horace Grey of Boston), and Mrs.
212 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Hobson. That was all; such things to eat, all were
delicious; for instance, "pone," in a kind of pud-
ding to eat with sausage ! waffles,, brought in hot, and
hot, with preserved cherries and juice, fried chicken,
all creamed and brown, not to speak of bouillon,
oysters, and the usual things thrown in. (The bouil-
lon at the Warders', by the the way, was served in
Sevres cups lined with gold, crimson outside with
medallions containing shepherdesses.) This Steed-
man affair was very sweet and genial, because we
were all bent on making her perceive it a success.
The last thing was home-made cherry bounce in
which we drank her daughter's birthday health. We
came away from there gorged, to plunge into our own
Friday reception, and stood receiving all afternoon.
Swarms of people, partly for me, and partly for Mrs.
Vice-President-elect Morton, who was there, having
come to W. for a few days to engage herself a house,
etc., etc. Pleasant greetings I had with John Hay,
who has been to every reading (so has Harriet Lane,
Mrs. Johnson), William Walter Phelps, Mrs. Iron-
side, Kasson, oh, hundreds of intimate friends, dear
Admiral Walker, etc., etc. They stayed till it was
time to dress for the Edmunds dinner. I wore my
black lace with the cardinal which looks very pretty.
It ought to be long, as should all my clothes for that
milieu. Charming dinner, only we were tired and
not hungry. I sate between Kasson and Langley
(the diners-out par excellence of W.) ; Judge and
Mrs. Blatchford were there, Dr. Leonard and Madam
(rector of St. John's, the fashionable church), Mr.
Pellew. ... I was near enough my dear Senator
Edmunds to hear and speak with him occasionally,
alas! this is all I have seen of him; but Mrs. Ed-
munds and the daughter, Mary, are lovely to me,
loudly lamenting I sketch no more in water-colours.
We left at ten-thirty, and might have gone on to
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOKK 213
Mrs. Secretary Whitney's jam, but flesh, and blood
resisted, and we went home to bed.
On Saturday my last reading, very pleasant, for
every one crowded round to say farewell, and praise,
and wish they could go on forever. It was " Chil-
dren of the" Abbey," and they roared at the fun. I
wore my violets from Mrs. Bacon, black gown, black
lace bonnet. My feet in good boots are much seen
and admired, on the heisty platform they give
me. . . .
Always Mrs. McGuire's cab, for the reading, you
know. In it at the close Susie Loring and I flew to
Mrs. Whitney's musicale, and were just in time. For
the reason you had no rehearsal, my dear, was that
your orchestra had a concert Friday night in Wash-
ington, and the next p. m., Adamowski and his
stringed quartet were bid to play by the far-scheming
Mrs. Whitney. It was a charming occasion. Her
lovely celebrated salon where Sherwood read, and
where I should have, if they hadn't moved me into
the vestry, one of the most perfect of rooms. Several
hundred people, but scattered about on crimson divans
with masses of roses over them, on comfortable chairs.
The music on a dais in an alcove. Everybody
(straight from my reading) in their best street cos-
tumes. I knew the most of them (more than I
should in proportion in a Boston drawing-room),
all saying pleasant things. Mrs. Whitney very effu-
sive. Adamowski played a ravir and they were all
carried away with him, and wanted to learn from me
his previous career. I felt very light-hearted, be-
cause out of the woods and no slip about the readings
(two hundred and fifty dollars safe in my pocket,
and I guess about five hundred dollars for the char-
ity), so I could enjoy my homage at my ease. We
slipped off without stopping for tea. . . .
At seven-thirty, a charming, cosy dinner at Mr.
214 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Sam Ward's, sitting between him and young Ward
Thoron, a charming fellow, just from Harvard.
Langley there, of course, and Lowndes, the hero of
that novel, " Democracy." After dinner some thirty
people came in. The Swiss Minister who talks agree-
ably in French; Cabot Lodge; Mrs. Barlow {nee
Shaw) wife of General, — Mr. Fairchild, etc. — all
very well with me — especially Mr. Ward^ who talked
of Fullum and the Friday Night Club. Home in a
vile slush, hard to get to our herdic, and up our own
steps.
Now for Monday, last day. At eleven in the morn-
ing, old Madam Stone (corner-stone of W. I call her,
you know), fetched me to the Louise Home, insti-
tuted by Mr. Corcoran for decayed gentlewomen, to
read to them ! It was such a time, old birds swarm-
ing round me, delighted with the ball scene in " Chil-
dren of the Abbey," and in the midst a great bouquet
of flowers for me from Mrs. Cleveland, with a card
in her own handwriting, great was the glory and the
praise. Old ladies nearly wild; they hung on my
neck at parting, and are ever since quarrelling over
one copy of the " Children of the Abbey." Mrs.
Stone is so much enchanted with me for this act, that
she can scarce keep within bounds. . . .
Saturday we had delicious " Siegfried " at the opera,
the most charming fairy-tale, scenery, plot, orchestra,
singing, all enchanting. If you remember, I left
Brunhilde last year asleep on a mountain surrounded
by flames, and Siegfried just about to be born. He
was now grown up, welding a sword for himself with
which we saw him slay a great dragon, named Fafner,
then found Brunhilde, waked her up, and married
her, she still the right age for such purposes, being
a Walkiire.
Yours,
SUSE.
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOKK 215
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
" Alhambea," Granada, March 18, 1889.
. . . Thursday evening was our really last dinner
at moorings, with Elliot Lee and Dr. Goddard. . . .
And on Friday we were really off. I was all ex-
citement and on deck at seven-thirty (I can always
have coffee when I get up) to see the sails stretched
and all; but there was lots of delay waiting for a
new steward, who said he would come and didn't,
and lots of sending boats ashore, which I guess al-
ways happens, so that it was eleven or so before we
glided round the lighthouse and off into the Mediter-
ranean. This was one of the most delightful mo-
ments of my life ! and all that p. m. sailing as fast
as a steamer; the companions lying on deck, all of
us, with cushions and rugs, no noises, no smells, no
thumping as in steamers, — a glorious sunset grad-
ually coming on as we left the old rock behind, and
coasted along the lovely mountains towards Malaga.
The moon was up when we came near the lights of
that town, to anchor in the bay. Oh ! it is perfectly
delicious, this sailing part. . . .
Yrs.,
S.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Yacht " Gitana," Malaga, March W, 1889,
I believe, but doni ash me the day of the week.
my dear Caroline, — I will write you a brief
note before breakfast, partly to say that Malaga raisins
are very good raisins, and to add that I am having
the most heavenly time on this sweet yacht. Besides
we have just come down from the Alhambra and
your favourite spot, the Villa de los Moros, is all
there. Just imagine how it was to really see the
216 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
whole thing again, — drive up under the archway
from the town, after dark, but in superb moonlight,
up and up among the elm trees, Nelly and Anita all
amaze, for you never can make any body believe be-
forehand how its going to be (and so much the
better), then rattling up with a whoop of mules and
wheels to the Siete Suelos, where mine host comes
bowing out, and observient waiters stand round, and
lead us to rooms all ready with chimeneas, which is
Moorish for fire in the chimney, and the dear old
lady, who has been chambermaid ever since Isabella
took the keys from El Be Chico, with her head tied
up in a pannelo and a shawl crossed over her bosom,
runs for hot water. We were all so enraptured that
we went out and strolled about, up to the gates of the
G'fe, and were only restrained by the absence of a
permit, from rushing that night into the palace. It
was rather cold, and we needed wraps, for Sierra
Nevada is sheeted with snow, but the sun streamed
in on us in the morning.
Everybody was delighted; and, oh! my dear, we
are a very nice congenial party. There is n't a black
sheep amongst us, nor one in wolf's clothing. Willy
is a dear, so very gloomy in speech, so sunny in fact.
" Well ! " he says invariably, " now all our troubles
are going to begin ! " Whereas we have no troubles
whatever, for all runs smoothly always. Nelly is
lovely. . . . Alhambra or No-hambra, B. Mercer is
not only ornamental, but thoroughly sweet and com-
panionable. He attracts much attention. The beg-
gars say, " Pretty little Seiior, give me a penny. You
are so bonito" Anita is full of enthusiasm, and
learning, and reads away to kill, in " Irving " and
" Murray," occasionally barks up the wrong tree, but
soon down again. As for Susan, that wily old stager
is still overflowing with grief for the poor Moors,
and trying to contrive some practical plan for their
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOEK 217
return to the Alhambra. Meanwhile, it seems as if
it might all topple down some day, spite of Don
Senor Contreras, who keeps propping up arches and
re-gilding.
Peach blossoms just out, the grounds full of vio-
lets, but trees bare, no nightingales ; that end garden
near the Torre de la Vela, but scant as yet with
flowers, but entrancmg with the wide view of the
snowy Sierra. We are off to-day for Africa, sailing
three days, perhaps, before we stop again at Oran,
so lots of love from us all.
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
On "Gitana," Cartagena, Spain,
Sunday morning, March 2^, 1889.
my dear luc, — I have now a little tale to relate
which will make your hair in particular stand on
end; but it is all happily over, and not likely to
happen again, so you must be sure not to worry. . . .
On Tuesday morning we left by train and returned
to Malaga, getting a better view of the splendid great
rocks in the gorge than ever before. It's the finest
scenery of the sort; but the railroad tunnels it, so
you have to crane your neck, and I have never before
been on the right side for it.
We reached Malaga, drove to the Muelle. Our
pretty boat awaited us, and we had a calm, peacefid
dinner on board, and a tranquil night in our cosy
cabins. Mark well these words, as I have done.
In the morning, Wednesday, there was great delay
getting off. Two tug-boats tugged their utmost to
haul us from our moorings, and captains of all these
crafts swore in Spanish, while we did our best in our
tongue, to be even with them. At last we were off
about noon, and went down to lunch' in our cabin,
218 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
where everything looked so pretty, open piano, writ-
ing-desk, books, chequers, sewing scattered about.
No sooner did we reach the deep sea, than a gale
began to blow, and, my dear, long before night we
were tossed and pitched worse than I ever saw, not
stormy, you understand, but a real gale, seas sweep-
ing over us ! The first warning was a great slat when
the yacht was perfectly slanting. Everything in the
cabins went sliddering off from one side to the other
— the whole decor, anything loose, with one whoop
off on the floor. Nita and Nelly began to be sick,
took to their beds, — in fact, I was taking a nap on
mine when it began. Suddenly a great sea poured
through our sky-light, right on Anita in her berth,
same time the ship lurched, and all our trunks flew
across the cabin. The water in the basin flew up in
the air. The poor child gave one leap from her bed.
" We are sinking ! " she cried. This was very silly
of her, but really not surprising. I went up on deck,
but could only poke my head out. There were great
waves as in pictures, towering over us, not breaking,
the deck slanting, and, oh ! as I looked, a great swoop
came, and I saiu a sailor fall headlong ! " Man over-
board! " was the cry; and all was confusion, for they
had to turn round, with great yelling and hawling
of sails, to try and find him; this made us wobble
worse than ever, a lurch, a sea of water in the big
cabin, every mortal thing wet through and thrown
down. The lamp flew out of its socket in our room
and hit Anita on the head, glass clattered, big trunks
jumped from their places. Just then a steamer came
along. We put out a signal of distress, viz. : Union
Jack reversed at half-mast, and she came up to us.
This was to show her that a man was overboard.
Another great wave smashed our davits and, alas!
washed away our pretty boat which always took us
to shore, like our cedar canoe, only bigger. We hope,
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOKK 219
perhaps, the lost sailor found it, and was saved; or
that the steamer took him, for we could not be wal-
lowing thus in the trough of the sea, so turned again
sadly and headed for Cape de Gat, because it was
too bad to try for Oran across on the African shore.
Such a night ! Dark and groping, so they dared not
go too near land. However, they knew all the time
exactly where we were, and both Willy and the cap-
tain were splendid, alert, calm, possessed. But all
night we rolled and rolled in a horrid manner, not
going fast at all, because not sails, or not the right
direction, or something. Nelly was sick, both girls
awfully frightened. Billy Mercer, with pink cheeks,
but sick, curled up in a corner, no use to anybody,
me going from Nelly's cabin to Anita's to keep up
(?) their spirits — and once, in doing so, I was shot
across the salon upon a pile of chairs causing a per-
fectly fascinating black-and-blue spot, still on my
thigh. It is about four by two inches, and the shape
of the Alhambra enclosure. Our cabin! All the
lockers flew open, one of them contained four dozen
or so Chinese lanterns, which spread themselves on
the floor, sopping wet, mixed with the broken lamp,
the contents of my small black box, all the rugs, and
three trunks of B. Mercer's. Anita was in my bed,
as hers was wet, and there was really no place to be
at all, for a well person; finally I went (to comfort
her) to Nelly's cabin, and sat on the floor by her
wash-stand with my head in her clothes-bag. Willy
was needed on deck, but he sweetly came down when-
ever she called, to reassure her, and really (they
said) there was no danger, beyond — what you may
imagine on general principles. Well, we turned in
at last, I and Anita in same bed, but the thing rolled
so from side to side, we were thrown against each
other and then apart, to the anguish of my scorped
thigh. Not very much had been done about meals,
220 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
as the fire had to be put out; but Willy and I par-
took of tongue and salad, with some cheeriness. The
big lamp was too wet to burn, and only one or two
not disabled. I put these details on record, not to
forget, and not to put you in anguish. In the morn-
ing, Thursday, I woke after a fitful sleep, and found
we were still, thank goodness. Dragged myself from
bed, feeling banged as if on horseback a week,
climbed to deck. We were pointed towards Carta-
gena, land in sight, a grey not bad morning, but no
wind whatever! so a mild roll, roll, which I once
had hated, but which now seemed perfect rest. Our
rail is smashed, our best boat lost, the " life-boat "
with a great hole in its side, so we seek this excellent
harbour for repose and repairs. Nelly was by this
time fully disgusted with life on the wave. That
evening she resolved a great many things already
forgotten; for by the time, about noon, we dropped
anchor here, she had abandoned the plan of at once
going on shore to some vile hotel, and we are living
happily on the yacht, carpet taken up and dried in
the sun, beds and rugs, ditto.
This, you see, was Thursday, and we are still here.
A sweet Spanish carpenter, whose tools he inherits
from Tubal Cain who sailed here with Noah, ac-
cording to legend, is mending our rail, — a tough
job, and the boat has gone to his house to be repaired.
By the way, just as we were coming to, in port here,
Gitana smashed into the Nuevo Roberto, a chunky
tug-boat, and broke off her mast, which came tangled
to our rigging. B. Mercer sprang for an axe which
hangs in our gangway, and a sailor with one dramatic
stroke, clove the thing free from us. Whereupon an
old Spaniard, deaf as a post, sat smoking all day on
our deck demanding £20 to repair his old tug. Wil-
liam gave him £12 finally. This was the last of our
disasters, and we are very happy here, — I for writ-
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 221
ing and rest, the others, because they've had enough
sea, for the present! The harbour is very pretty;
and the town a funny old town, utterly devoid of
tourists or modern life. We pass our time in the
cabin, writing, sewing, practising, or, when we
choose, call a boat and go ashore for stretching our
legs, and to see the sleepy town. It is sweet just to
sit on deck and watch the donkeys, boats, people,
perros — the sun sets in a wonderful cleft of hills.
I regret my sketching things, but I 'm glad I have n't
got them, for I am terrible behind in writing. There
is a rumour of a steamer to Oran; if she comes in
from Marseilles (a French Compagnie Transatlan-
tique; you know the article!) we may cross without
waiting for the yacht, and get to Algiers by rail.
She was due to-day, but there are no signs of her.
Nelly and I went ashore the first day and drove in
a ridiculous tartana, a yellow sort of market-cart,
with two wheels like a herdic. We bought some arti-
chufas, and I have bought a red petticoat; but even
here pretty pannelos and all those things we brought
home are done away with. Oh, but I have got you
a basket here you will be pleased with. Now don't
worry; for Nelly is so scared she won't go anywhere
for more than a day out, and we shall take steamers
for all long trips. On the whole, I am glad of the
experience — only seeing the man go over was ter-
rible. We shall get no letters till Malta. Always
with much love.
Susie.
Favourable thoughts of the piazza at Matunuck
while we were tossing in that trough.
222 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Off Leghorn, May Q, 1889.
dear Luc, — Strange things have happened since
I last touched pen. We have done Rome, Florence,
Pisa, Leghorn, all in five days.
I loathed, loathe, and shall loathe Rome, and have
always hoped to escape it, even on this expedition.
It was, therefore, with great gloom that I listened
to, and assisted William in his admirable plan for
a short trip, leaving the yacht at Naples, and swoop-
ing back to it here. We have put his plan through
with great success, and now I feel great satisfaction
that I have done Rome for good and all. As we
approached I peered (in imagination) down into it,
like Dante, or perhaps more like Orpheus, shading
his hand. . . .
We left Gitana with only hand-things last Satur-
day at eight, rowed ashore, to station and had pretty
ride all morning past Capua and away from Vesu-
vius, to Rome, — drove to Hotel Bristol, through
great modern, dreary streets. We had grabbed mezzo
polio and little flasks of wine, so did n't have to stop
to eat, but jumped into open carriages, Willy with
Anita and me, because he wanted to tell us things,
B. Mercer with Nelly, behind. We saw all the old
Roman things (see Stoddard's lectures) *Forum,
Column of Trajan, Palace of Caesars, * Coliseum
(I mark with an asterisk (as in Baedeker) the things
I think well of) *Borghese Gardens, the ^Fincio.
All very interesting, nothing against them, of course ;
it is the sacrilege of turning this old place into a
frivolous den of American spinsters that irritates me.
Funny to see how the Pincio really does look, it has
been so described in novels — absolutely different,
of course, and very charming. We kept meeting the
King, Queen, and Prince of Naples (their heir).
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 223
Don't you know they were just married, Humbert
and Margherita, when we passed through Milan?
The Prince is a nice-looking young man, with the
Hapsburg mouth and chin. I haven't the suitable
genealogical tables to find out how he comes by them.
At the hotel, a bare, hideous, modern place, were Ned
Everett (son of Helen) and Freddy Allen of Arthur's
class. These dined with us, and Ned, who is amus-
ing, told me of seeing Papa at Washington March 4,
or thereabouts. Next day, Sunday, everything was
shut in the way of galleries, which Willy either had
not, or had counted upon (he hates them, although
an admirable connoisseur and judge of pictures).
We took carriage and drove round seeing things,
Anita, Nelly and I ; at the Capitoline Hill where we
were to see the " Dying Gladiator," etc., I made a
misstep and fell out of the carriage on my side.
Great anguish, and I thought I was dead, but it
proved the contrary, I was only a little faint. This,
however, put an end to my career for that day. I 'm
all right now. I just drove with them to see Castle
St. Angelo and outside of St. Peter's, and then left
them to explore the inside, while I went home. Slept
through the p. m. and rubbed leg with alcohol. Thus
ends my career in Rome ; I am glad to see that much
and no more of it.
Monday off again eight-thirty for Florence. . . .
Arrived about three; at the hotel door was Hartog,
the courier ! This we expected for he is now conduct-
ing famille Beal. . . . He at once (as a friend)
took us in his grip, evidently annoyed to find we do
so well without him. After all it was nice to see him,
and like the Catholic religion, we fell back with relief
into his arms (supply the links yourself in this com-
parison). It was perfectly enchanting at Florence.
. . . Our rooms were on the Lung Arno, which runs,
you know, parallel to the river, and a great dam below
224 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
us made a brawling noise. All the well-known
bridges were there, Ponte Vecchio, etc., — and lovely
sky with domes against it. Our quarters large and
luxurious. As before we went out at once, but on
foot with William to see sights, the Lanzi loggie,
Bargello, Duomo, lots of things, as in a dream, " Per-
seus " by B. Cellini, into which he threw his pots and
pans, so familiar. . . .
Tuesday. — Betimes to the Uffizi Gallery, and our
whole minds given to Botticelli, Raphael, etc. Splen-
did gallery, saw all my old friends of Minot's photo-
graphs. It's very singular the way you go from
Uffizi to Pitti by a covered way all across the river
and the town, as if you might go all along Boylston
Street, cross it, and through the " Tunker's " house
to get to Carry Weld's, without going outdoors. Just
as we were approaching this passage, Anita saw
Philip turning into it. We leaped on him, and his
Theodore Butler. Was not this fine! — for I have
had none of his letters telling his plans, which letters
are getting on a fine bloom at Barings according to
custom, before sending; they joined us for the Pitti,
and Philip showed me what to admire, but my mind
was rather turned from the pictures, as you may
suppose. Met also Russell Sullivan, very nice and
cordial, but tore ourselves away from him. It was
lunch time, and Phil, and Butler came to lunch with
us in our salon, then left to return in evening. Anita
and I took a little carriage, and saw lots of places.
She was crammed with Hare's " Florence," which is
excellent, and I know pretty well about the things.
We had a fine time at San Marco, — all about Savona-
rola and Fra Angelico, — saw a sweet old cat in Ghir-
landajo's "Last Supper," a fine fresco — saw the
Luca della Robbia's singing boys (bas-reliefs) and
many things, of course, omitting many; then drove
up to top of San Miniato, and came down, something
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 225
like Pincio. I will explain all these things by mouth
if you want to hear. From San Miniato is a superb
view of Florence, which is certainly a lovely town.
The dome of Brunelleschi is very fine, between you
and me the Cathedral it belongs to is hideous, all
variegated of dark and light marbles without any
effect, like a Chinese inlaid puzzle. Ponte Vecchio
is delightful, — a great bridge, but all little shops
like the Palais Royal, — the Goldsmiths, you know,
like B. Cellini. Anita and I walked along here, car-
riage following, to look at shop windows, — came
upon Willy and Nelly, who were buying all Florence,
— they told us to keep our carriage and go to Doney's
restaurant and get ice-cream and buy candy, which
we did — met Isabella Curtis at a street corner who
exclaimed, " Why Sue ! I thought of course you were
a Marchesa!" . . .
" How did you get here ? " she cried. " Why, I am
yachting" said I. " It looks like it," said she, glanc-
ing at Anita, and the carriage seat heaped with
flowers, shopping, candy; I was sorry to have so
brief a view of her, for it 's long since I 've seen a
contemporary! . . . All these things were very ex-
citing; the Welds also met acquaintances, and, as
hitherto we have led a charmed sort of life apart
from our kind, as it were, this return to humanity
was refreshing. So Wednesday, May 1, which was
yesterday, Hartog brought us off to Pisa, where we
stopped from eleven to three, — saw the lovely pulpit
in the baptistry, went to the top (!) of the leaning
tower, and through the far-famed Campo Santo — all
reminding me of Bologna. It is but twenty minutes
rail to Leghorn and here was the yacht, our row-boat,
sailors and captain, just rowing ashore, by chance,
to seek us, having come in, only the night before.
We came on board, always in great joy to revisit our
cosy quarters, and our things, for this three-days-in-
226 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
a-handbag business has its drawbacks — and off be-
fore breakfast for Nice, with a very light wind.
Our rooms are written for in Paris for the eighth,
my dear, and when you receive this I shall be buried
in the Bon Marche. We sail the eighteenth, unless
there's some slip about the staterooms, or delay —
but I hope to be at the Thorndike in less than four
weeks ! ! ! My ! it will be nice. I now write to Thorn-
dike to bespeak my room ! . . .
Your Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Bhode Island, June 8, 1889.
dear luc, — I feel constrained to refresh myself
by pausing to write this. . . .
Time driveth onward fast and Louise, Emily, and
I dream of nothing but soap and scrubbing brushes.
It has been pretty up-hill work. Emily so cross, even
ugly at times, that I went to bed one night sure that
I must give her up. Not to dwell on the subject, she
was so mad because I chose to have the kitchen
cleaned before the red parlour, that she retired to her
attic tent and sulked, leaving me and Louise to
wrestle with the kitchen and Estella, and gave me no
dinner, but a small piece of boiled flounder and no
pudding. This, of course, was comic, but fatiguing.
Joe and Emily at this period could not communicate,
so I had to come out of my bed between five-thirty
and six (his only hour) to tell him each morning to
bring up her wood and water. Eor though Peter
Larkin came and coupled the sachem and turned
on the ram, this ceased to work the minute his back
was turned. So as soon as the women had used the
water he had poured into the tank, they (of course
not telling me the water did n't run) began to clamour
for more, and would n't " haul " themselves. Louise,
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOEK 227
Emily, and Estella having eaten up by Wednesday
all the food I had planned for the week (old Jane
never ate, you remember), I walked down to the
beach for fish and came back bringing a stick of
buckeys, twelve, and one fell off on the way up, so
there were eleven. Next day the " gang " sent me up
two flounders, which she cooked as above. All the
men are busy in the fields snatching greedily the
sunshine, after four weeks of steady rain. Elisha
absorbed by preparing for the Weedens. Regular
post-carrier down with the German measles, and his.
brother driving the mail, who " did n't know," etc.
All the wood that is not in the cellar is wet, and it
was so dark in the cellar that Emily "couldn't see"
to go down there, and Joe wouldn't. Franklin had
the key to the cellar-way, and when he came on Tues-
day, hope revived. But he had forgotten the key,
so we had to pry up the staple, after waiting three
days, which we might have done at first. It rained
so, out of the question to sit outdoors, and whole
house so filthy, difficult to find a place inside.
There; I don't think of anything more, adverse,
for the moment, so I will hasten to turn the picture.
Emily, of herself, " got good " and was yesterday all
smiles and johnny cake. Mrs. Bradley brought a
voluntary pair of spring chickens, which I am eating,
delightfully broiled. Jeffrey Potter of himself came
and mowed the lawn. The sun, of himself, came out.
The ram of itself began to run one midnight, and
Joe of himself took up the stair carpet, and brought
guinea-hen's eggs. Suddenly this morning, two blue-
fish, unsolicited, walked up the hill. And really
much is accomplished. The whole house except the
attic story shining clean, and redolent of soap, — ■
much cleaner, to tell the truth, than Jane used to do
it, between the drops, probably on account of the less
friction. That Pons Asinorum the kitchen closet,
228 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
is crossed. All the old things thrown away, all the
new spices and meals put up in neat tins and pots.
Even Emily is radiant with its state. (It was in an
unusually horrid condition by reason of a bottle of
bluing, which poor old Nelly must have knocked
down, which had spattered indigo over every bowl,
plate, dish, shelf, wall, floor. This was why I wanted
that cleaned first, and we have been less blue all round
since.)
Thus I devoted myself yesterday, 1. To preparing
my part of the house for the Weedens. The big
parlour is sweet with the Algerine, etc., things, and
one or two slight changes of arrangement. 2. Then,
as above, to handling myself every article in the
kitchen-closet, opening the "stores" and filling the
pots and jugs therewith. Then to Weedens' with my
silver and linen to set their table for their first meal.
Then to my broiled chicken, and then to make a rich
Parisian toilette, and seat myself with studied ele-
gance to receive their first visit, should they come
up. 'Twas in the parlour doorway opening on the
west piazza, at my little oval table, in my favourite
rock-chair. I had on my black net shirt, and new
red waist, with silver Constantine pins. Hemmed
new Paris napkins as I sat, alternating with the
pages of my French "Virgil," — while on the table
was my Sicilian orange h'd'k'f. Jander was on the
window-seat and the scent of Jeffrey's hay floated in
across his nose (Jander's).
They didn't come! that is Mackart didn't, and
Leila and twins remain in Prov. — but Raymer and
Jamie came trooping up with the little girls, — and
later Mr. W. came and passed a long, agreeable hour,
after which I went down and took tea and strawber-
ries with them. I think my artistic effect was lost
on these spectators, but after all 'twas myself I
sought to please. . . *
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 229
I take leave of you very happy and with prospects
of a calmer week. . . .
Suse.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June %4<> 1889.
dear luc, — Hoped to write you a great letter,
but the thing has begun, and I have not a moment
to myself. It is now just short of mail time.
But everything is going on sweetly. I wish the
calm of a small family could be kept along with the
delights of a large one! Robert arrived Saturday
p.m. by the new train (two o'clock from Boston),
which works extremely well, as people get themselves
all steadied in time for an excellent six-thirty eve-
ning meal (not tea, because there is not any).
I will describe one day as a pattern of our present
state, by which you will see that for a family of three
persons, my staff of three servants, with the outside
addition of Joe, Louise, Franklin, Elisha, Albert
Sebastian, and Estella, is ample. At five-thirty,
Emily softly glides down-stairs, and I hear the gentle
stir of the poker, and the softly falling coal-scuttle.
I turn to my slumbers, secure in the prospect of a
good breakfast. Perchance Franklin is stealthily
splitting a kindling, or Joe breathlessly dropping ice
into the new refrigerator.
At six-thirty precisely, Katy trips over the stairs,
and soon the willing ram fills her pails. She brings
one to Anne's door, and gently taps her awake.
Now is the time for me to rise. I find in Fullum's
room my tub, towels and bath-gown, all as I wish, —
and, slipping on my " Billy Mercer," I run up-stairs
to wake Robert, and hold our morning chat. Com-
ing back to my own bath I call to Emily out of win-
dow, "You may let up the kittens, now," and she
230 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
throws wide the cellar-door, whereon Theodore and
Emma rush out and come up to join my bath. ( They
are rather unworthy, and I am very doubtful about
keeping them; but wholly hind-house cats, so don't
trouble the family at all.) Now Nelly, the stern
little sister of Katy, passes down to the kitchen,
leading Estella, whom she has clothed the while. At
seven sharp, I descend to the front of the house, which
I find well aired, doors open, big parlour dusted,
flowers fresh, and Katy just bringing in breakfast,
which we have in the red room. Nelly goes up to
tell Miss Bursley breakfast is ready. Robert appears,
and we have a charming little meal, with great roses
on the table, sent by Cornelia. After breakfast, the
Gospel according to Edge worth, and then I go to my
writing, much curtailed by chat, however; then (and
not before, you observe), I visit the kitchen and lay
out the food of the day with the cook. Yesterday
being Sunday, Robert did a " Sybarite ! " I clothed
myself in my Paris light mousse-coloured gown;
Anne got herself together, and we went down to
church; a lovely day, rather cold. Leila and twins
are just arrived. They came up after church, in
fact, were here all day. We walked to Tuckers in
p. m. — laurel superb, going fast. Then coming back
at six-thirty, Emily had all ready, and Katy her part
as well, bluefish, johnny cakes, and jelly cake, and
we had both houses fully represented on the piazza,
with many wraps, all evening. But I must stop.
Love to your hostesses.
To Edward E. Hale, Jr.
453 Marlboro Street, Boston,
November 15, 1889.
dear edward, — I have got my list pretty much
made out. Perhaps I will send it to you later. I
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 231
want to know whom you think it would be well to
begin with, for the very first go off, you know I am
starting with the present, to work back. Of course
I want my first gun to be taking, and attract the
attention of these ten foolish young virgins. I want
to read (and condense) therefore, some good (but
not too familiar) recent novel, or other prose, but
entertaining, — and read a little poem. What do you
think of George Meredith's "Richard Eeveral," and
if so, how can I have any life of him to give in brief
words? Then I thought a poem of Austin Dobson.
If so, what life of him? I have reserved two days
for these modern living people, before coming to
Dickens and Tennyson. Tell me what you think.
Would you have Stevenson for one, instead of Mere-
dith, or besides him? It goes pretty smooth after
that; I am only making the lists now in order to
have some printed, after which I shall employ myself
in getting together all the lives of the people, and
selecting what to read. "Minto" is charming; I
have bought it.
Andrew Lang would be good, wouldn't he, for
one of my moderns?
We are having a wallowing time here. The house
is lovely really in the country, with open views over
" Charlesgate East " to the park. I made a water-
colour sketch yesterday from the open window. . . .
Amelia B. Edwards is really great. She is just
as easy and simple with the audience as I am at
Matunuck, and she knows lots. The Boston women
are all there trying to look as if they knew the same
things. . . .
/iu^ fauy
232 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
1214 Eighteenth Street, Washington, D. C,
Tuesday, January H, 1890,
dear luc, — I will now endeavour to write you
a great long letter, for it can't be known when I shall
have time for another, as my classes are coming on
after this thick and fast. I'm to have a grown-up
one, on between days, which will make me busy
nearly every morning, but good for my pocket. But
I will begin with this dinner of last night to get it
off my mind while fresh, and then revert to yours
received yesterday, and other matters of high
interest. . . .
Well, you see, long ago, came a great card as big
as a house inviting me to this dinner. I take it as
very nice of the Mortons to at once pay me the at-
tention, puts things on a pleasant footing; and this
particular dinner, as you know, for the Judges, is
of all others the most desirable for grandness (though,
likely, the most dull). Even the mugwump residue
of the Cleveland dynasty must needs regard it as
great, because all these judges are the same as last
year, when Tuckermans, Wards, and the like were
proud to be present to meet them. So every one ex-
claimed, "You! dine with the judges! How splen-
did ! " My nice Mrs. Cummings (lives with Blatch-
fords, sister of Sam Wells and Kate Gannett), cried,
" You dine at the V.-P.'s to-night. Well, wear the
very best gown you ever had in your life ! " Great
anxiety and interest was thus shown in the event by
all my Job's comforters here. Now Ruth (Hoar)
in her nieeness, without knowing this, had asked
Papa and me to go round with her, same p. m., yester-
day, to call on all these same people, " Judges' day,"
Monday, without knowing I was to dine with them.
In the carriage it came out. " You going ! " " You
Susax Hale, about 1S65
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 233
going ! ' we both said, and embraced ; this was nice
for me, for at their teas, I saw all these women, so
when we met at the dinner they were all quite pleased
to see me, and ran and got their husbands to show
them to me. . . .
In great fear and trembling I climbed into my
long-tailed gown, the white trimmed with Algiers
stripes. Do tell Miss Bolger it fits like a glove, and
amazed everybody with its suitableness — and good
effect. Though the Senators' wives sate behind great
diamond crescents in red velvet gowns, . . . Ruth
had a very pretty white satin and sort of yellowish
brocade dinner gown. Judge Field of California
was to take me out, and he proved very gallant, talka-
tive and agreeable, rather ponderous and would-be-
judicial, in manner. But Mr. Senator Hoar was on
the other side, of course, friendly and most jolly, and
Senator Evarts Mrs.
Sands Bancroft Davis
Mrs.
5
"°Hoar
o o
o
Senator Lamar
Judge
°Brewer
o
Mrs. Blatchford
Mrs.
°Edmunds
o
Judge Harlan
Judge
°Gray
o
Mrs. Morrill
Mrs.
oMiller
o
Judge Blatchford
oV ice-President
Mrs. Morton ©
Mrs.
oFuller
0
Senator Edmunds
Judge
oMiller
o
Mrs. Field
Mrs.
oBrewer
o
Justice Fuller
Justice
oField
o
Mrs. Lamar
Me
0
o c
o
o
Senator Morrill
Sena
tor Hoar Mrs. Berdan Mrs. Bancr
oft Davis
Dinner at the Vice-Presidents for the Bench, some
Senators, and Myself
our end was altogether the lively one, for most of
these great men prefer, I believe, to slumber on the
lea like the pimpernel, as they dine, and their wives,
in general, are not the sort to rouse them. . . .
The dining-room at the V.-P.'s is newly built on
234 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
by them to their gorgeous house, and is a handsome,
vaulted room, the table looked lovely, though simply
adorned with a mound of ferns, and the end heaps
of bright roses. Endless menu, of course, and plenty
of champagne. The Brewers are the newest comers,
just appointed. She is a pretty, quiet, little woman.
Much love from
Susan.
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
1214 18th Steeet, Washington, D. C.
10:30 a. m., Tuesday, January 28, 1890.
deae luc, — . . . Had a nice time receiving
with Anna Dawes Thursday, p. m. She is a charm-
ing hostess, and attacks her " tea " just as we should,
not merely standing (as many here do) like a graven
image at her door with pump-handle attachment.
Result is, people love to go there, and swarms poured
in, many really agreeable, and of whom I could tell
great yarns, — so odd are the threads which keep
coming up here to tie these folks to our family or
my old haunts. . . .
The Senator himself came down on purpose to
meet me, very agreeable.
From there I went to a great reception at Mrs.
Leiter's, in her superb house (built by Mr. Blaine).
Here were swarms, again, of people more swell, in
their own estimation, than some of the Dawes crowd
(though these were pretty fine). Friday evening was
the great Wanamaker reception. I wore my yellow
lace gown, and really amused myself, standing with
Admiral and Mrs. Crosby near the entrance, who told
me who was worth knowing of the eleven hundred
announced guests, and presented me to some. My
dear sweet Mrs. Edmunds was also there, and Mrs.
Davis, whom I conceive to be Mrs. Cabot Lodge's
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 235
sister-in-law or something of the sort (not Mrs. Ban-
croft D.), was particularly nice to me. It was a
tremendous jam, though the house, same as the Sec.
Whitneys had last year, is huge, with an added ball-
room, where hired musicians were bawling, but no-
body paid the slightest attention. Pa Wanamaker
was there. I like him, but had no chance to speak
about the Matunuck P. O. He has no wine ever at
his sprees, which rather pleases the public, as at the
Whitney's, same place, too much champagne was
given, so that the guests were apt to be notoriously
affected by it. The girls Wanamaker and Morgan
were very nice to me, and so was Mrs. That was my
great outburst for last week, and minor ones must
be omitted. . . .
Yrs.,
SUSE.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
St. Louis ( ! ) Missouri, Sunday,
March 9, 1890.
(10 o'clock with you, 9 here.)
dear luc, — I am writing in bed ! Not from in-
capacity, but because my trunks are not yet here,
on account of late arrival last evening. So Mrs. C.
conceived it well for me to take the course of not
getting up ; and I have just finished a most delicious
breakfast, great rose on a tray with coffee, fish-balls,
orange, etc., and now can't restrain myself from de-
scribing my truly lovely surroundings.
The house is away out of town, as you said ; quite
analogous to the Bursleys' new situation, in all re-
spects I should think, only that it is far more country
here than they are, more like Edward's house in
Worcester when he first went there, surrounded by
open fields and sky. Mr. and Mrs. G. O. C. met me
at the station 7 : 30 p. m. last evening, and I was
236 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
drawn in their comfortable carriage away across an
immense town, long, straight streets with cable-cars
in them, and very dark and dingy. There is an im-
mense deep cut for the railroad which divides the
town in two, and over this are great distinguished
bridges sparkling with electric lights. We crossed
one of these and then came away up into the suburbs,
but not up any hill because it is all flat as a pan-
For here I will go back to the trip to emphasise
the fact that I was tired, though it was a fairly com-
fortable one. I got off from W. in marvellous peace.
Edes famille most affectionate, had to sit round hold-
ing their hands for an hour after lunch, nothing else
to do as baggage had gone, and it seemed proper,
also. They have been marvellous good to me, and
strange to say, I have come to condone their faults,
and much attached to their merits, although I will
describe their faults at Matunuck. Took horse, I
mean steam, at three-thirty, in a parlour car, very
comfortable, quite solitary. At Harrisburg, we
climbed out of this and into our sleeper, no difficulty,
just across the track; this was after dark, so no im-
pression could be got of the place. In fact, I am
much like Nellie Bly in this respect, having seen but
little of the country I passed through this time. I
proceeded at once to the dining-car, and had a very
good meal, everything on the menu you like, pay one
dollar, whether you eat it or not. There was some
river outside, and I turned to look at it. " Oh,
what 's that ! " I exclaimed, meaning what sheet of
water. " That 's the moon," said the gentleman op-
posite, as to one as yet unfamiliar with the heavenly
bodies of the locality. When I praised the effect on
the water, he said, "Yes, that moon-scene is nice."
I saw no more of him. And then came the bed busi-
ness, too hot, too cold, thumpty- thump, jag-dy-jag,
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 237
man snoring opposite, stopping the minute you get
used to going, going the minute you are resigned to
stop. At Pittsburg, 2 a. m., the porter came and ad-
vised me in a friendly manner to sit up and look at
it, and it was weird and wonderful, great blazing
lights of natural gas, and chimneys glowing, besides
electric dotted up a great hill. 'Twas here we
changed the time, and became one o'clock when it
was two.
Now you know, and don't need to be told, the odi-
ous part is getting up in the morning, with the day
before you in the old smelly place, not one effort to
ventilate it. In fact, I consider the vestibule business
a misfortune, for it prevents fresh air getting into the
whole train, so that cigar smoke is wafted all through
together with dining-car and all other possible odours.
However, I got the " toilet " first, and had a refresh-
ing dowse in ice-cold water for my head. The beds
were gradually made, and it is a change to go to the
dining-room and get an excellent breakfast, coffee
beastly, of course, but plenty of it. The day is long,
— varied by local newspapers at each big town, and
an occasional walk at stations on the platform, when
time allows. Colder than anything I Ve had all win-
ter, hard ice on all ponds, and sparse snow, — fields
brown, and bare, and I must say landscape most un-
interesting, long, flat plain, spindly woods, scatter-
ing towns of wooden houses, — the sunset fine over
monotonous stubble fields. About noon, the human
beings began to warm towards each other. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
238 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
St. Louis, Missouri, Wednesday,
March 1%, 1890.
Well, well, my dear, strange doings. . . . Yes,
Washington was a scrimmage, but all those events,
and eke yours (forgive me!) seem pale like this ink,
before the vortex in which I am now turning. Be-
fore my eyes are, ever, Agnes Repplier or George
Egbert Craddock, for I am being lionized here madly,
furiously, as they were in Boston, only more so. I
seek to profit by their defects, and to seem simple
and unelevated in company, to strive to discern dif-
ferences between Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Bones, and to
give due honour to the local lights, instead of treat-
ing them with the contempt which I received myself
from Repplier; but as I recognise her difficulties, I
become indulgent to her failures. Mrs. Carpenter
proves a little trump. I have closed my eyes and
just follow where she pulls the string. She led me
(although partly my fault) into the scrape so admir-
ably described in the enclosed cutting that I rejoice
not to spend any time over it, only you can imagine
the brain-whirl which accompanied it. Lucky enough
I had read Evelina twice in one day so lately, for
thus, without the slightest preparation, I could go
through with it, in great glory, and only additional
triumph.
Here pause, and read the slip from paper.1
That was Monday p. m. You left me in bed Sun-
day (perhaps you are just reading that letter).
Sunday, at six o'clock tea, were about thirty people,
Mrs. C.?s own friends she had asked to meet me, —
all coming to shake hands as to a lion (d la Repplier),
afterwards eating at small tables scattered about the
1 The wrong book having been brought, Miss Hale could not
give the reading she had prepared.
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YOEK 239
rooms. The most charming person here, so far, is
this Mrs. Lackland, a sister of old Rev. Elliot.
She is a sort of Chanoinesse (but really not much
older than I), very pretty, grey hair, sweet man-
ners, worldly, bright, full of wit and talk. She
was here, and other men and women of interest.
Evidently we belong to the bright, literary, radical
set, not great on clothes or conventions, scornful of
the " fashionable," church-, Lent-keeping set who rep-
resent Beacon Street here. Many of them I have
since seen; but I guess the others are more represen-
tative of real St. Louis. Ask Papa. His Mr.
Learned was here, and Mrs. He very genial and
nice. But they were all little more than phantoms
at that time.
All is charming, thoughtful, considerate, in the
house here. I am tended like a precious piece of
porcelain. The talk chiefly turns (no, but often),
on the sale of my tickets, which was a wonder of
good management. The room holds one hundred, the
seats are gone long ago, and the omitted, howling in
anguish. . . .
There; now, you have the lay of the land. Mrs.
Copelin (pronounced "Copelan") had a gorgeous, far
too filling dinner, after that we drove (an endless
distance) to the pretty room where I was to read.
Here was Mrs. Carpenter, much elated, as, spite the
fearful weather, pouring torrents, and such mud ( ! )
the place was full (only two seats vacant). Mrs.
Lackland's little speech was charming, and the thing
went splendidly, rather better for the blunder about
the books, but imagine my condition for a few mo-
ments! Everyone was presented afterwards, very
gushing. . . .
Tuesday, I went to town with a neighbour, Mrs.
Herf, in a carriage, and bought a pair of thick boots,
for nothing I have is fit for the mud. At two, we
240 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
all went to a great lunch at Mrs. Copelin's where
were about one hundred women. I wore my black
net over white silk, with a sash of vieux rose. The
lunch was at little tables, made a sort of "progres-
sive " one, for after each course, I was moved, as the
lion of the occasion, presented to about six new
women, and expected to say something brilliant, or
at least, literary. This was rather trying as there
were six courses, and six changes to six tables, but I
lend myself to this starring business with some zest
and amusement. . . . There was a woman there
(name hopeless), who asked if my sister was the
author of the " Queen Red Chessman," which she
much admires. We got away at five, had a light sort
of dinner after so much eating, and then were hawked
down town to John Fiske's last lecture on "Early
America"; same, I suppose, you heard. Mrs. Hem-
enway pays for the course here, and everybody goes.
He is much feted and adored, and loves his St. Louis
much. In the hall he used, I am to do the " Elixir '
next Monday evening ; the tickets are selling like wild-
fire; the wily Carpenters kept them back till after
I had made my first impression. . . . This time it
is for the Training School for Nurses, and they will
doubtless clear some hundreds, besides paying my
two hundred dollars and expenses.
I am now even with the present time, for this
morning I have but prepared " Cherubina " for to-
night. Very ingeniously they have put this one read-
ing in the evening, in a larger hall, with the permis-
sion on this one coupon for ladies to bring their
" authorised escorts " each one, this admits the men,
doubles the audience, for the same money ; the tickets
are all season, five dollars for the course of six, with
this tit-bit for the men thrown in. All the planning,
Mr. Carpenter's, is wonderful, and I wish I could
take him starring with me everywhere.
CHICAGO, WASHINGTON, NEW YORK 241
Every available moment while I stay is engaged
to some lunch, tea, clnb, dinner, or reading, and
people wroth that no vacant times remain. I conld n't
stand the racket long, but guess I can for these two
weeks. It is indeed amusing, and then peaceful
mornings are a great relief. Then we have really
charming talks, Mrs. Carpenter in my room, very
appreciative, herself full of fun and good talk, real
Boston. . . .
Always yours,
SlJSE.
CHAPTER VIII
Summer at Matunuck, 1890 — " The Elixir of
Youth" at Olana — Trip to Europe with Miss
Susan Day, 1891 — Winter in California giving
readings, 1892 — Matunuck, 1892 — Out West
again.
(1890-1892)
To Edward E. Hale, Jr.
Matunuck, Rhode Island, May 2, 1890.
dear Edward, — I am dying to go to Persia. I
always was, since I saw the architectural coloured
pictures Mr. Church has, and you know that book
of Persian poets of his. Of course, let us go in two
years. I can easily make twenty-five hundred dol-
lars next winter and the winter after, and that will
be enough, unless we change our minds, — but really,
merely by planning them beforehand in this way, I
have often accomplished things as difficult. You
acquire the language, and I will attend to minor lan-
guages; though McNutt says he gave up Persia
(going across from Nijni Novgorod), because he felt
that he didn't know enough Russian to accomplish
it in safety. He was a little man in Washington,
who talks every language. But we can do it.
It is perfectly heavenly here, and I wish this could
be your time. Cornelia is running me, and she is
really just the right sort. She cooks splendidly, and
she goes her own way, I mine, and without any
bother the things are done. Her son, Johnny, is also
on hand and Franklin is coming to-day. Her Hannah
MATUNTJCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 243
is to do my chamber work, and an excellent cook they
have provided will take Cornelia's place, when the
family begins.
The land seems more enchanting than ever, just
beginning to tint with spring soft colours. Great
dish of maynowers before me. I heard a whippoor-
will, he suddenly started up in the middle of the
night, made one remark and was silent again. The
" Summerus " is blown down. I seem to not regret it
in the least. The seats were very hard, — yet there
you recited the " Deserted Village' to your exas-
perated brothers. . . . Mail-time.
Yrs.,
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, Sunday,
June 1, 1890.
dear lucretia, — At three-thirty this morn, in a
yellow dawn, as perchance you have heard, Cornelia
and I met on the pave in night gowns. At quarter
of four I was taking my bath, and she was grinding
the coffee, at quarter past Papa and I were drinking
the delicious results of her grind, and at half past
we were on the road. As I turned into the woods
on my homeward way, having left him on the Kings-
ton platform, it was half -past five! Such lovely
smells, sight, sounds ; the trip was delicious. I let the
old fool-horse dawdle along, — flew out to get a quan-
tity of lady's-slippers, like yours, under an oak tree,
had a delicious conversation with Welcome Kenyon,
pronounced " Kinyon," and when I next saw the clock
in the red room, it was — five minutes past seven.
It's now eleven-thirty. It seems aeons since then.
But suddenly in honour of Edward, we have tumbled
into regular summer weather. The windows are
open; we have no fire. I have a summer shirt on.
244 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Sun pours in. Leaves wave and rustle. Somehow
or other, all is wholly changed. This was partly
owing to the magic of Papa's presence, for we had
a beautiful time, all the more so from its concentrated
briefness. I hope you may be seeing him at this pre-
cise moment, and learning the same thing, for I'm
sure he enjoyed it. I emphasise this, and pray ob-
serve it is emphasised before going on to describe the
malaproperties which mixed themselves with the oc-
casion. But these were really trifling compared with
the niceness of seeing him. I 'm only afraid I bored
him fearfully with the gabble he indulgently allowed
me. But I guess it did him good to let me talk. He
seemed discouraged when he came, and I think en-
joyed it all himself.
In the first place observe : — I have been here four
weeks. Each separate week, he has written to say
he would be here. Therefore we have kept his study
swept and garnished, and the bedroom all ready, —
that remains so still. Finally he wrote he should n't
come at all. Tyndales, after saying they should, said
they should n't till next week. Now under these an-
ticipations, I kept postponing the crisis of the house-
cleaning, viz. : oiling the parlour and entry floor.
My dear, they were just oiled, and everything they
contained piled in a heap in Papa's study when he
arrived, so he couldn't set foot in it, even cross the
threshold. Moreover, the time, which eateth all
things, had just brought the moment when your room
and my room were being cleaned, everything they
contain was in the entry, so that Papa had to climb
over them to get to his room. All my things were in
Nelly's room (mattresses, gowns, etc.) so he couldn't
go there, and in Fullum's room were assembled all
the brooms, pails, slops, dusters, in action for this
assault. The dining-room was cleaned but impas-
sable, all the kitchen things were outdoors. A howl-
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 245
ing wind made all outdoors untenable except the big
porch, and this could only be reached by going out
of the red room window, because the parlour and
entry were fresh oiled. You could n't open this same
red room window for a moment without all the things
out of his bag blowing all over everything ; and here
we also had to eat, as there was too much wind on all
piazzas. Happily his own room up-stairs, the blue,
was cleaned fresh, and I made the bed myself, so
there he had a great nap. Cornelia was excellent,
and we really had a lovely morning on the east
piazza reached by rope-ladder, so to speak, — took an
excellent walk p. m. and then, for the first time since
I came ! it was warm enough to watch the sunset from
my seat (summer-house blown down) and a great
moon. No wood-fire! scarcely lamps as we went to
bed at eight. Dinner (twelve-nfteerf), so no more
now.
Yours,
Suze.
P. S. Monday morning. — My dear, it is warm ! !
Really warm. Thermometer says, " summer heat,"
76° in the shade, and last evening I sat on the porch
till bedtime. Saw sunset on " Susan's Seat," and
great nearly full moon flooding the scene, without a
wrap, without a chill. Oh ! ! it makes so much differ-
ence. Suddenly the idea of fires is forgot, the red
room deserted, my (own) bedroom a paradise, and all
the piazzas practicable. I fear now a storm, but that
peg once in, we hold on to the theory at least of sum-
mer. And at five-thirty this morning arrived the
dusky band, headed by Cornelia, now retired on half-
pay (literally), who will break in the new cook, and
finish the odds and ends (well named) of cleaning,
the bottom of the pot closet and the top of the front
door. Lucy, a nice wistful-looking coloured, who
246 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
made me excellent hash for breakfast. Hannah, who
is now singing as she makes my bed (too frequently
of late the work of my own hands). Outdoors
George I is restoring the " droive-way " destroyed by
I-talians. He is aided by his serf. 'Lisha is painting
the boats. Albert Sebastian is whetting his scythe
to cut the lawn. Franklin is beating the rugs, and
their dust is flying in again at the windows. Lionel
Clark is hurrying from Wakefield with paint to do
the piazza settees, neglected by the painters. All this
because 't is June, and the Weedens are coming.
Only this stirs the back side to any activity, and I
waste my breath till now. Mr. Cove is rebottoming
the piazza chairs.
Yours,
SUSE.
To George L. Clarke
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 7, 1890.
you poor dear george, — ~No wonder you were
terrified. I hope you have already heard it was only
the stable and bam. My house is saved. It was
terrible enough any way, one of the nights that cut
a deep mark. We were all aroused by Billy's an-
guished cry, " Fire ! Come down ! Bring pails ! "
Of course I thought, and each separate one, " It is
Our Housed but looking out I saw a fierce glare for
background sharp against the Weedens', and thought
sure it was that house. In an instant, incredibly
quick, all our men were clothed (?) and tearing down
the hill with green pails in their hands. In a few
minutes, at my porch, in my night gown, I received
poor old Bailey and Ellen, — the little girls, —
whimpering they had n't any place to go to. Popped
them into my bed in Fullum's room, where Alice
and Rose Perkins had come to see the scene from
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 247
that window. We all thought the W. house would
go, sure. A man was sitting like a cat up on the
roof, yelling for water, and they all set to hauling it
from the well and conveying it there. This saved the
house, which, however, is blistered and scorched and
would have caught inevitably, but for the water ; and
then the wind changed and led the flames towards the
sea.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Weeden was brought up here by
Louis (our boys were fine), and I put her on the
lounge. Later came Leila and Esther Butts. We
made a little wood blaze in the red room and sate
there talking low. Raymer and Jamie (well scared)
went to bed in Louis' room (Nelly's). We knew
then that both barns were lost, and the horses roasted
in. the flames. . . . The coachman woke to find the
barn burning, lost his head, could n't find the door to
let out the horses, and escaped himself through some
window without a thing. All of us are sure it was
his pipe or matches that set the fire, but he is so de-
nuded, nobody accuses him.
I never shall forget that dawn, the flaming sky, a
waning moon, and the still, calm, cold light that crept
on us before the sun. The girls and I walked round
the house, we were all sort of calm but excited.
" Susan, why don't you go to bed ? " "I have n't got
any bed ! " But by broad daylight we turned out the
little girls, they ran home, and I turned in for one
hour, — for at seven, we had a good breakfast for
hungry, grimy Robert, Louis, Phil., Harry. Parber
had been forced to turn in about four.
They have $2400 insurance and the house to be
painted. The old billiard table, insured, brought
three hundred dollars! Its legs, reversed, made a
prominent part of the sight. . . .
Always yours,
Susan.
248 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Olana, October 11, 1890.
my Caroline, — I feel it is time I should shrive
myself to you after total abstinence from all commu-
nication through the summer. You see I have aban-
doned Matunuck, shut the house, and fled hither to
the mountains, where there is peace, after a tumultu-
ous season which I will proceed to describe to you.
Now Robert Hale, the youngest nephew, who is a
dear, conceived about those days the idea that he
would no longer be a burden to his parents, neither
take from the parental pocket that gold which was
needful for his sustenance, and eke for his boots and
trousers; and he said to me : " Susan, I will go forth
into the wilderness and make a good business in rais-
ing locusts and wild honey for the market. " And I
said : " Robert, do not this thing, but come with me
as usual to Matunuck, and I will put money in thy
mouth and food in thy wallet."
Whereupon I encompassed him about with three
youths to teach and coach for their schools and col-
leges, viz., Louis Church, the youngest son of this
place, a dear as ever was, aged twenty-one; Hugh
Williams, son of Martha and Moses, you know, a
handsome tall-headed youth, very sweet, and a lazy
dog; and one Harry Rice, of whom we became very
fond. He was to be crammed for " Hoppy's " school
(more respectfully Mr. John Hopkinson), Hugh was
to enter, if the thing could be brought to pass, this
autumn at Harvard, and Louis was to read English
literature for life in general. So one day in June
these three youths settled upon me, all shy, all home-
sick, all scared to death of us ; like cats on the fence
they gazed at each other and said no word. I had
also in the house Lucretia ; the Rev. Edward, always
delightful, but somewhat awesome to the youths;
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 249
Robert, whom they also feared, though he strove to
look very gentle on them; and Philip the nephew,
fresh from Paris, the genius of the family, most de-
lightfully amusing, but eccentric and lawless to the
last degree.
To these were added unto me as the summer went
on, all sorts of inflictions and afflictions, partly in the
form of joy and delight, fair girls, who flirted with
these boys ; Minot, for a week, who has become very
fat and forty, and carries round with him a photo-
graph gallery of his numerous progeny, remarkably
pretty little girls and several twins; the great Alex-
ander Harrison, who came over from Newport to
encourage Phil, and pass judgment on his work ; my
Jack, otherwise Edward, Jr., who stayed a fortnight
with us before going off for three years on the Conti-
nent. He has a travelling fellowship conferred on
him by Harvard for that time (five hundred dollars
a year), and is to study literature, philology, ethnol-
ogy, and all the -logy things belonging to language, in
German universities. That 's the end of him, as far
as I am concerned , for the present ; but so it is with
nephews, as with other stock, one down and another
come on. This is not the half of my list of inmates,
but the rest of it would only bore you. I had angels
in the kitchen, they were coloured ones, "Rye and
Indian," I call them, native neighbours ; and a very
choice cat, called Timorous Tim. . . .
Well, the campaign was a great success. The three
youths became so fond of the place they could not
bear to leave it. Harry got into his school, and Hugh
got into his college, and Louis got well and strong
and jolly, which was the real object of his coming, and
Phil, painted two portraits and lots of sketches, and
Lucretia grew fat, and Papa Edward was rested
and refreshed, and all the boys fell in love with all
the girls, and got over it immediately afterwards,
250 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
and the money came out about even for the house-
keeping, and Robert has four hundred and fifty dol-
lars in the bank to start with. He is twenty-one, and
he has resolved not to come upon his father any more ;
is n't that plucky ?
Now, so great and joyous a summer worked for
the glorification of Susan, who was adored by great
and small ; but, perhaps, you can guess that very little
was left of her at the end of it. So as soon as I could
get rid of the last of them, I locked the door and
came off up here, where dear Mrs. Church was long-
ing for me, and here I fell upon a bed and slept for
three days, except for putting on good clothes and
being agreeable at the necessary periods.
Always your faithful
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Olana, Thursday, October 16, 1890.
dear luc, — . . . Now to my events; my dear,
on Saturday evening I did the " Elixir of Youth "
here ! Mrs. Warner thorned Mrs. Church to make
me (I'm displeased with Mrs. W. for this foolish-
ness), and I couldn't well refuse, although I had not
a thing in the way of costumes, and only that small
trunk's worth of my usual clothes. It was sprung
on me at breakfast. I yielded, and everybody flew
off in different directions on different behests.
Downie to Hudson to buy false hair and rouge, Louis
and Leila to drive round the country and invite the
neighbours. The day was one of scrimmage, and
on my part, of great gloom — but it really went off
charmingly, and I am glad it took place, for it gave
great pleasure, and Mr. Church is immensely pleased.
He says " the half had not been told him." The stage
was perfect. In fact I have always been longing to
MATUMJCK, EUKOPE, CALIFOKNIA 251
do something on it, a raised dais at the foot of the
stairs. About ten guests came (in the dark, long
drives, up our winding wood road) and this with
ourselves and the servants, for whom a sort of gal-
lery behind a screen was arranged, made about thirty
for audience. Mrs. Warner played soft music as the
Old Lady came gliding down the stairway and ad-
vanced to the front. I had on my heliotrope plusH
wrapper with a canary-coloured little crepe shawl
over it. Standing with a background of old idols
and armour, and two great bronze cranes, and tapes-
try, lighted by tall standing lamps hidden from the
audience, and raised four steps above their level, the
effect must have been perfect, I wore my own india
silk for 50; — and 25, Downie squeezed me into her
ball-gown of white crepe, most becoming, a wide gap
in the laced-up-back was plastered o'er with a piece
of sash, and I had her white feather boa on my throat.
At 15, I wore bodily a gown of a small Twitchell
from Hartford, who came with the Warners. The
length and all was just right, only a few plaits had
to be let out at the breast. This, of course, brought
down the house. Michael, the great big coachman,
brought in the Baby, to the great delight of the gal-
lery, who thought the whole performance the best
thing ever seen. (Miss Bolger will like to hear about
the " Elixir.") Leila and Downie were both very
nice. Leila hustled me off at the end and got me
into my own black net gown, to return to the com-
pany. Wasn't that a time! The Warners (Charles
Dudley) were amusing. . . . She plays superbly,
and willingly, all the Dresel-Chopin things we used
to know by heart. They went off Monday early, and
with them Leila, Louis, Downie, and Mrs. Church,
the latter for two days' shopping in New York, back
last evening with Louis. So that Mr. Church and
I were left alone like Darby and Joan. It rained
252 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
incessantly Tuesday, but he was most agreeable, and,
of course, I spent much time by myself. I have not
got over my thirst for sleep, and sometimes fall on
the bed morning and afternoon, at it again from nine
at night till seven. I take great walks daily, and feel
myself coming round. The trees are glowing and
hills soft and luscious. . . .
Yours,
SUSE.
To Miss Lucretta P. Hale
[Boston], Saturday, November ##, 1890.
10 o'clock A. M.
Oh ! my anguish ! Note when you get this : I am
about to take horse — electric — with the Stanleys
to see James Lowell at Elmwood. Farewell, if it
proves to be forever: — this p. m., Coolidge reception,
and then Tyndales at six. Funeral to-morrow, mine,
I mean — this is a jest. . . .
That was a stunning dinner at the Lorings'. Very
select and very jolly, Helen Bell, — Mrs. Henry
Whitman! and — myself, also a certain Miss Put-
nam, pretty, who used to belong to my Charade Club.
I was taken out by Professor Japan Morse, and he
is delightful, sate next Mr. Goddard, who was at end
of table, opposite Gen. Loring, Mrs. Loring, middle
of side. The Fenelosas it was for. She is very-
pretty, by the way of being beautiful, in fact, rather
conscious. Gay was there as a Japanese.
I have much funny things to tell you. Lost for-
ever if I don't survive this expedition into the heart
of Cambridge.
Yours,
Suse.
MATUNUCK, EUKOPE, CALIFOKNIA 253
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
7 Sackville Street, London, Monday,
December %%, 1890.
dear lucretia, — Words fail even me to convey
to you any idea of our surroundings. It is nearly
ten o'clock in our very luxurious lodgings; it is so
dark, with a great yellow fog, that we have our lamp
and candles (very feeble ones, to be sure), and so
cold, in spite of fires in every room, that we are sit-
ting close up to the grate with our thickest wraps on,
and all wound about with the heaviest steamer rug!
So much for London in December. How you would
hate this darkness! My dear! Try to realise it.
When I came out into our parlour at nine for coffee
it was just like the middle of the night, with some
faint dimness of a distant dawn. The room is large,
great veils of blue fog always hang about it in rifts.
We see each other but vaguely across the thick air.
Nice little grates full of soft coals, constantly heaped
up (at our expense), but they smoke like the dickens.
Candles have a halo about them, iris-tinted. Our
lungs are all full of this thickness, and our noses of
the smell of smoke and coal. But this is a very ex-
ceptional season. When we arrived there were " nine
degrees of frost" as they say, meaning 23° Fahren-
heit; this hadn't occurred for nine years, there was
snow, and it began soon again. There is about an
inch of snow in the streets, and they are nearly wild
over it, great snow ploughs drawn by countless horses
and attended by brigades of men scrape the little
stuff into corners. It clogs the carrot-slice wheels
of the four-wheelers, and the drivers demand extra
fare. And awfully cold, inside, for they have no idea
how to warm houses. I keep thinking how you
would hate it. But to narrate ; my ! what seons seem
to have passed since my steamer-letter. Let me begin
254 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
by saying we are always having a splendid time.
Susan is in good spirits, delighted even with misfor-
tune, as every traveller should be — I mean discom-
fort, for we have had no misfortunes whatever. We
laugh and plan and review our triumphs in the most
constantly jolly manner. She is very considerate and
unselfish, and very thoughtful of me in all possible
ways.
Well, Thursday, land was in sight, and we were
hawked out of our beds by " joddess," who wanted to
get through her work. "Ze baz ess redy," this per-
nicious creature announced when it was yet dark,
before seven o'clock ; and we were all dressed to leave
the ship, and things packed and strapped by eight.
Then came the most tedious hanging-round period.
We were off the Isle of Wight, and waiting for the
tender or something. It was eleven before* we were
off the steamer, and all that between time, standing
or sitting round in draughty passageways, twaddling
with the people who were going on to Bremen. Cold
as Greenland, and no means of getting warm. Then
we descended to the tug, a very respectable convey-
ance, but open-deck, and waving farewell to the
Saale, sate on a settee in rugs, chomping up to South-
hampton. Only a handful of fellow-creatures. . . .
Our protector was Linzee Tilden, Effie Bird's hus-
band; he saw us through the custom-house and into
the train at Southampton, a spot I am now pretty
familiar with. We had but time for a hasty sand-
wich, and some Scotch whisky before starting for
London in an ice-cold compartment where we could
see our breath. Hot- water things for feet were all ;
and the trip about two hours. Snow on the ground,
and skating as we passed small ponds. Luckily we
had all our rugs ; and had a very jolly ride of it with
first impressions of England. But just imagine not
warming a first-class railway carriage in Decern-
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFOKNIA 255
ber! They don't think of it But now the fun
begins. London! Waterloo! a four-wheeler, —
driving through the well-known streets, Piccadilly
to Sackville Street, a knocker on the door, great con-
fusion of departing boxes in the hall, and our boxes.
We were a day sooner than expected, but our rooms
soon ready, and we installed in our delightful quar-
ters. The house is just like 6 Hamilton Place in the
days before gas, water, furnace; I keep thinking of
it all the time. We are up one flight, with a front
parlour on Sackville Street, three great windows, ab-
solutely useless, as they let in no light ; folding doors
open to my bedroom, and Susan's is just behind.
The bedrooms exactly as cold as Matunuck at this
season ! — although each room has a constant fire in
the grate. But, of course, you know these fires don't
influence an inch away from themselves. I was soon
as you may suppose (about 4 p. m.) in the depths of
a four-poster mahogany bedstead with a flight of
steps leading up to it, soft depths of feather bed, but
warm. Jane, the delightful maid, flitted about pok-
ing the fire. I saw her through veils of blue smoke ;
she brought 'ot water and more towels. I slept till
nearly seven, then hastily jumped into my tea-gown
and came forth to receive Mr. Tilden, whom we had
invited to dinner. Our parlour was all right now
with fire, a lamp, and plenty candles. It is large
and the farther, or Greenland, end is the dining-
room, where we now had a cosy little dinner, ordered
by us, and served by Jean, a sweet French garqon,
very devoted ; but soon leaving the table to nestle up
to the fire for coffee and Tilden's cigar. He bade us
farewell when he went, — off for the Sunny South
the next day. Now that was the whole of Thursday.
Friday, came Stevens the devoted, very burly and
nice, and full of plans, Susan and he mutually
pleased. You must know that I had got a horrid
256 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
cold and sore throat in the climate just described.
It began by being too warm in bed on the steamer,
and the exposure 01 Thursday didn't better it; so
I got Stevens to take me in a cab to see Dr. Benjamin
Waed Richardson, whom he recommended as some-
thing of a professional light. It was well as a study
of the English method of doing these things. We
drove to Manchester Square, sent in names and waited
a long time in a huge room on the lower floor, where
a great table was laid out with every possible period-
ical like the reading-room of a library. At last we
were shown across the entry to the great man's library
where he sate at a writing-table in the middle of the
room, with a horrid lamp. They have no idea here
of the Rochester Burner or anything bright, only
" Duplex," and dim at that ; the ground-glass shades
seem thicker than ours. This was high noon, you
know. He is a very chatty, affable man, knew all
about " Edward Everett Hale," prattled of America,
as he wrote the prescriptions. He fetched a reflector
and lashed it to his forehead, and then by the dim
light of this lamp went down and explored my throat.
But, lor! his appliances were antidiluvian compared
with those of Vincent Bowditch and dear Dr. Bangs,
who have gas jets for lighting any part of the human
frame within. He searched about amongst my ton-
sils, then exclaimed, " I have it, I see it, it is not
at all dangerous," and taking his head out of my
mouth he ran to write prescriptions. . . . He would
like to come to America and lecture, and he told me
the titles of six lectures, about the " Morals of
People's Insides," as you might say, but /'Hatha-
way," that's the lecture agent that Amelia B. had,
told him the subject wouldn't interest Americans.
I think they would, and this gave me a chance to air
my views on the foolishness of employing Hathaway.
Moreover, he showed us a " Statement " from D. Ap-
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 257
pleton and Company, with whom he has dealings,
which he has had a year and never could make out.
I know 'em well, those " statements," and pointed out
to him that it showed due to him $102.95 which he
could get for asking. We further turned this sum
into pounds for him to understand, then laid my two
guineas on his desk and departed. Stevens remarked
he thought of saying that our charge for information
was also two guineas, but we didn't. We stopped
to order a sprayer for my throat ; and in due time all
my drugs came home from "the stores" where
Stevens ordered them. Let me hasten to say that
they have cured me finely, and that I am all well now,
really, so you must not worry at all. It was just one
of my throats, and the remedies were excellent. Sev-
eral things in the cure I think highly of, viz. : he
told me to stay in three days and that I should be
well in three days, and all the drugs were apportioned
in doses for three days, now they are all used up, and
I am well, and there's no further question about
going on with them, because there ain't any more
stuff, it 's only to throw away the empty bottles. . . .
It 's quite a wonderful cure, but you know I am great
on recuperation. So that's all that. . . .
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Ajaccio, la Corse, January 31, 1891.
dear luc, — We are certainly having the best fun
any two Susans ever devised. Perhaps you didn't
know we were coming here ; in fact, I believe I have
never mentioned any plan or change of plan, so may
as well say here, that little Susan on the Atlantic
voyage found out she didn't want to settle down in
Florence for the winter, which was the parents' plan ;
so we decided for Sicily and the top of Africa, to
258 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
my great content. As all the Continent is fiendish
cold, we did wisely, for it is very cheerless all over,
so that seeking warmth alone would have driven us
forth. Then I found one day that we could get to
Palermo this way, and here we are. I have always
been longing to see Corsica. I wrote from Cannes
to the British Consul here, there is no American one
(see Baedeker), to ask him if it were safe, and he
wrote back a very nice note saying there were no
bandits these twenty years, and theft and robberies
unknown, — also recommending this hotel. So off
we came, though Goddards and Legays shrugged
their heads and wagged their shoulders and said,
" There was nothing to see in Ajaccio, which was all
there was in Corsica." . . .
Having packed and said farewell, on Wednesday
(28th January), we started after coffee in a two-
horse open carriage, all our malles strapped on be-
fore and behind, and us sitting in a nest in the midst
of them. Proprietor Neef hurried from the market
to press flowers in our hands, hyacinths, violets, roses,
pinks and mimosa, and off we went trot-trot for Nice,
three hours along the Corniche, although it don't
much begin to be called so till the other side Monte
Carlo. (These places I knew before on account of
the yacht, and Susan spent a summer at Mentone
when she was seven. ) I must be brief about all this ;
the drive was lovely, we approached Nice, the curved
shore all built with glaring white houses, and saw no
ships, no vapeurs, no wharf, concluded we should have
to give it up. But by driving on discovered at the
end of the town the port let in at a slit as it were,
and all the shipping thus concealed from the Prome-
nade Anglais where Fashion walks abroad, as with
us at Cannes on "la Plage." We hated Nice, I al-
ways did, great big staring town, chock full of Ameri-
cans ; but we lunched at the Zenith of Swealth, called
MATUNTTCK, EUKOPE, CALIEOKNIA 259
" London House/' which Welds and I frequented.
We had a delicious lunch (it cost six dollars, without
eating much, but there were waiters with buttons and
without, a chef and a Tiger, and music, which was
extra), while gaudily hatted girls at other tables pro-
claimed their birth by shrieking through the nose,
and a young man astonished us by his moustache
actually curled in ringlets. To fill up the time we
drove after lunch to Villefranche, where the yacht
used to lie, then at four-thirty betook ourselves to
the Quai Lunel where vapeur Perseverant was lying
bound for Bastia. Papa and Nelly will know the
kind of ship, from Spanish trips, and you, my dear,
going to Brindisi, only this was smaller than most.
We had the ladies' cabin, along with a young Corsi-
can lady travelling with her uncle, a priest. She was
sick all night, and told us her history, like the
Princess Cynecia, in the morning. It was after sun-
set as we steamed out of the slit, and saw the gay
lights of Monte Carlo afar off. We dined on board,
oh, such fun, with the captain, and four, no, five,
men ; we all began to talk like brothers ; this is Cor-
sican manners and most agreeable. They all speak
French, though they prefer a jargon of Genoese and
Phoenician; they are most polite and courtly to us,
and seem to love each other, but they are violent, just
as in books ; they fly in a rage, contradict, almost stab
each other over the simple question, what time it is ;
calm down again in a minute. (Once in an omnibus
going from station to hotel they all got telling us
about Ajaccio. One mentioned (as it were) Wash-
ington Street, another Boylston Street ; all yelling at
the top of their lungs; one said (unluckily) that was
all the streets, the others fell on him and reviled him
for saying that was all ; in the midst a lady shrieked,
" You 've forgotten Beacon Street ! ' This calmed
them for a moment, and there was utter silence. Then
260 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
I changed the conversation by asking if there was
snow in Corsica, and they began again. We were
scared at first, but soon found they meant well. Just
exactly like boiled milk (my favourite simile), up
and down again in a minute. This happened in
Corte, — I now go back to the boat.) After dinner
the captain, and a blond we most unjustly call the
" Turk," were very gallant and took us up on the
passerelle (captain's bridge), where we prattled with
them till the moon rose — then to bed, and slept well.
At six, we reached Bastia, this was Thursday 29, and
saw the sunrise while our mattes were pulled up from
the hold. Our effects and those of the Turk were all
put on a charrette by a nice woman, who afterwards
dragged the whole thing, with some aid from a boy,
across the town to the gave. He did the most of the
real pulling, but she often did. There we got coffee,
had an awful panic about Susan's valise, which was
missing, we feared stolen, the chef de la gave and
all Bastia got interested, all polite, gentlemenly, de-
voted. It turned up to our immense relief. It had
got mixed up with the Turk's things, and was taken
to his hotel. As soon as he saw it, he sent the boy
back with it to us ; then dressed (he was in his bath),
and flew himself to the station to make sure we had
it; it spoils this story to cut it short; we were objects
of greatest interest, and recommended by the chef
all along the line in consequence. He assured us
from the first it wasn't stolen. Thefts never take
place in Corsica ; all the whole corps dramatique
(for it is all just like the stage here) shook hands
with us heartily when it turned up. And so off for
Corte.
]STow you must know there is a railroad over the
island from Bastia to Ajaccio, only it is not done.
We knew this ; there 's a bit of diligence in the
middle; but we were aghast, on the boat, when they
MATOTTUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 261
all informed us that so much snow was on the moun-
tains nothing had come through for days! Snow
don't surprise you in January, but we were used to
roses and sunshine for a week or two. Still we
pushed on to Corte (you 'd better get a map and see
how it is), for the Turk told us Hotel Paoli was
good. And there we arrived in time for lunch, at a
funny hotel, in a strange old town sliding down a
precipice, with a citadel built by Spanish viceroys
(1440) — home of Paoli, last stronghold of his re-
bellion, etc. (I move out of the sun which is too
hot.) Most picturesque place. Our two rooms
opened out of a dark banqueting hall with a huge
fireplace in it, roots of Salvator Rosa's trees burning
there. Bare floors, but comfortable beds. The gar-
con (who was one of the squabblers in the bus just
described) stopped between passing plates, to explain
' la vendetta." He says it is amongst their moewrs,
and means that they se tuent en famille on occasion,
but never strangers. This was reassuring. Indeed
they are sweet folks, not at all alarming. A most
imposing old chief of the poste, like Oliver Peabody,
arranged for our Friday morning caleche, which
brought us through to the railroad. It was a grand
drive through a difficult pass up over high mountains,
like Via Mala, any of those, plenty snow, — but cork,
pine, laurels all green, and shrubs almost in blossom,
wild, grand, like Pyrenees. We lunched at Vivario,
and watched the villagers strolling up and down ; the
men are very handsome, and their top-boots (not
india-rubber) redeem the deplorable, modern, long
trousers. The women do all the work, brought down
our trunks on their heads ! The R. R. gare at Viz-
zuona is a mere temporary stopping-place in the
woods; all the last hour we were driving through
deep snow-cuts; we passed a ruined shanty for the
R. R. workmen which had lately been wrecked by
262 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
an avalanche. It was cold at the gave, two hours to
wait ; we went into a small restaurant and had coffee
in front of another huge fireplace. Two friendly
men sate with us, while they warmed a sausage in
the flames, put it on hunks of bread, and ate it with
their jack-knives, which they called " coltelles" (cross
between French and Italian) . They offered us some, —
but we had lunched. Then from 4 to 7 p. m. in R. R.
a "salon" car which held eight of us, one Madame
Marchi, of Ajaccio, who is very friendly. We all
prattled all the way. A caleche brought us to this
charming, clean, luxurious hotel — a balcony opens
on a close-at-hand view, of sea, mountain, and sky.
It was dark. " What is that opposite ? ' we asked.
" It is the garden of the British Consul." Continued
in my next.
Yrs.,
Susie.
To Miss Lucketia P. Hale
Palermo, February %S, 1891.
Monday, 8:30 a. m.
dear luc, — I must seize the early morning joy-
fulness to begin you this letter. It is warm! The
sun which I saw rise, from my bed, a little while
ago, is slanting over my balcony, and acting like a
stove. All the Mediterranee is before me, — Monte
Pellegrino, looking like Gibraltar, on the left, and
a more remote headland on the right. Below, an
esplanade, broad driveway, and stone parapet run-
ning round the sea. This is " la Marina," the fashion-
able parade of the Palermitans, but until this mo-
ment it has been so dashed and washed and blown
and snowed upon as to be deserted. You see we have
changed our rooms to the sea-front, and are very
happy. I can't help feeling that the sun rises in the
west, I am all turned round, for the exposure seems
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 263
just like Ajaccio and Cannes (also Ma tunuck), where
the sun rises on our left, but here in this north-facing
harbour, it comes up on my right. No consequence
s'long as it is so nice and warming.
Yesterday I had yours of February 8 (just a fort-
night coming) in which you had two from me. . . .
We enjoy your mystification about Ajaccio, all the
Day persuasion were in similar fog, but, my dear,
you ought to have remembered that Bonaparte was
born there! Cagliari I shouldn't expect anyone to
know about. . . .
When I leave here, I 'm going to mail you a charm-
ing book about Sicily in Italian, I think you will like
to have it read to you, skippingly. It is by one
Schuregaus, German, but I read the Italian transla-
tion here, for practice in the right tongue. See if
old "Schondorff" has got "Une Gageure," by Cherbu-
liez, 1889 ; it is a really charming, a very clever novel,
of course, French in its treatment of love. . . .
I wrote a fat letter to Comm. Adv. yesterday,
No. VI. It will be terrible if they don't print them !
It described our trip Friday to Segesta and Seli-
monte. All the week has been charming, though
cold, windy, bad weather, but we did something al-
most every day. The sights of Palermo are all good,
and not fatiguing. Tuesday we spent up at Monreale
where are the beautiful mosaics, time of Normans,
church all lined with them, charming old cloister of
Moorish columns, like Spain, dreamy garden over-
looking the lovely plain of Palermo, called Oonca
de Oro, and literally gold with oranges on the trees.
Wednesday, we drove p. m. to La Favorita, ugly
Chinese villa built by the Bourbon, Ferdinand I of
two Sicilies, time of French Revolution. I've got
a delicious sort of Saint Simon gossipy book about
these Spanish Bourbons by the old Dumas, but in
Italian ! It is rich, all about Nelson, Emma Hamil-
264 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
ton, Acton, etc., etc. Do you know about such
things ?
Meanwhile we were getting friendly with the
Smiths, and we all agreed to do the Segesta-Selimonte
trip together. It took two days, from 3 a. m. !
Friday to ten Saturday night, during which time we
became very intime, and like each other much. Mrs.
Smith is a handsome woman of fifty-nine. They are
Quakers and "thee" each other, the mother and
daughter, who is a regular charmer, twenty-four. . . .
They have come all to adore me, and our two girls
have struck quite a friendship. They live in Lon-
don, because the other daughter has married Cos-
tello, M. P., and a Catholic ! — and Pa Smith has
bought an estate there, and there ?s a son. But Alice
has been over at Bryn Mawr, and is going later to
Girton to study. . . .
. . . The crucial moment of the trip was on Friday
about noon, when we came to a swollen stream, on
foot, with no visible means of crossing. I gave the
example of mounting a pack-horse which came along
led by native Sicilians, by means of a man's knee
and a rope-stirrup. There was great applause as I
rode across the torrent, straddle on a high pack-
saddle, the man behind me, also, on the same horse,
driving him by a rope at the mouth of the beast
passed across me to him behind. Then Mrs. Smith,
who is more cumbrous even than I am, though full
of pluck, was shoved and pushed up on the same ani-
mal, which returned with her. Susan scrambled on
top of a donkey and drove him over herself with great
prowess, while Miss Smith, and Lozer, found a place
they got over by means of a fallen tree and crawling
on stomachs. This caused great jollity, and I have
made a picture of Mrs. Smith mounting, which she
will send off to America in a " circular letter " all her
friends will see. I wonder if the ripple of it will
MATLWUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 265
reach us again, she is Philadelphia, you know, so it
may! Those Greek ruins are intensely interesting.
You know I was in fevers to do all this with the yacht,
but the Welds didn't care to. Now I am satisfied,
and well repaid. The country is bare, but the shore
always beautiful, only cold, my dear, as Greenland
still, and snowing at Segesta. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 15, 1891.
. . . Why didn't you stop at Kingston? Do it
the next time. Just ask great big stationmaster
Taber — he will beetle down over you like an over-
hanging crag or Phillips Brooks — to send you over
to Miss Susy's. This is not a
house, but your Vouillet trunk.
Charlotte Hedge is here, and
very delightful. We talk of old
days and old Brookliners, and
laugh over their romances and
finales, and, strange to say,
seem to think we are about as
well off in body, mind, and es-
tate as the others of our con-
temporaries. She is greatly
troubled by people being dead without her knowing
it, which she considers a rudeness on their part. I
have therefore suggested leaving Lizzie Fisher (Mrs.
P. Everett) one hundred dollars in my will to send
my P. P. C. cards all round after my demise. Good
plan?
Annie Bursley sends her regards to you and wishes
you might come over to see us and the laurel while
she is here. The laurel, by the way, is about to be
266 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
glorious, just coming out like pop-corn in genial
warmth.
My Robert is coming down Saturday, and, oh ! my
dear Edward, Jr., who you should remember has
just returned, full of meat and absolutely delightful,
talking philology and nonsense with equal fluency.
He is enraptured to be at home after the seriousness
of Germany. But I must be where? Kitchen or
garret ? Each calls. (There is really nothing for din-
ner to-day, unless a miracle brings a steak from
Wakefield. The fish-man passed me coldly by, and
we ate up the leavings of yesterday, for breakfast.
I have n't told these dames, my guests, and still hope
something will turn up.)
Yours,
Susy.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Santa Barbara, California,
February %3, 1892.
dearest Caroline, — You are a daisy! Your
valentine came yesterday, and I will respond with
this Little Hatchet. This joke, of course, refers to
G. Washington, on whose birthday yours arrived. I
have no letters to speak of, so yours was like water
in the wilderness. . . .
Now about me, I am equally horrid about writing,
for there is no time to do it. I have thought you a
million letters, but until Edison invents a morning
pillow which receives and transmits the early idea,
I shall never be a good correspondent. Lots to tell
you. Don't know where to begin. The Hales have
reams of annals, for I write them constantly. I've
just got through the San Francisco campaign. A
month there very well managed by some friends of
Nelly's, who took me on her account and cherished
me on my own. Great " social success." Same " Old
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 267
Readings/' new here, of course, where they never
before heard of Sir Charles Grandison. I had three
sets of readings and took in six hundred and fifty
dollars. So you see I didn't come to ruin, as I feared
when I left you. . . . They pay here in delightful
round gold pieces, all shiny and fat. I love to play
with them and part from them with anguish, which
makes me a sort of miser. Still I always have a little
bag full about me, and there's prospect of more.
Well, I was nearly killed by kindness in San F. . . .
San Francisco has excellent shops. I bought some
feather trimming to put around myself with good
effect, — and have done wonders in the varied scenery
and decorations of an old bonnet, in addition to my
good one. Six pairs of Paris gloves did the rest, and
I 'm told they liked my feet. You will forgive these
extreme details, being the only person besides myself
who takes any interest in my personal adornment. . . .
Well I wallowed in a sea of Unitarians, Presby-
tarians, Episcopals, Baptists, infidels. My chief joy
was hawking about in cable-cars, the greatest fun in
the world, and having California oysters at the ex-
cellent restaurant of the " Palace." Such was San
Francisco. I escaped from it with my life, and
after an interval of repose at charming Monterey,
the Del Monte Hotel, where they have a glorious
seventeen-mile drive by the Pacific, I returned to
this spot. Santa Barbara is the most peaceful, placid
little hole in the earth's surface. It is very beauti-
ful, no doubt, but cocky! Lord, if you hint that
the historic interests of Sicily are perhaps more
ancient than the post-office here, they go to moult
in a corner. 'Tis the valley of Rasselas, and those
who are really here never get out, and don't want to
get out. . . . The climate is perfect. By the way,
you have been here. That 's a mercy, for you know
how it looks, and I need n't go on telling you.
268 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
And here are charming people. . . . Anna Blake
looking well and handsome. It is an enchanting
place, and I am possessed all the time I am here with
a longing to be somewhere else.
Now we are going elsewhere, immediately, to Los
Angeles, to Pasadena, to San Diego, where the dear
Nordhoffs are, and then I make my way to the north,
and climb along to Portland, Tacoma, etc., and home
by the Canadian Pacific, which is said to be the most
beautiful of all the routes. I have abandoned my
nephew's wedding, which is for April 5. It makes
me sick to do this, especially as I am just now wild
to cut the whole thing and go home, — but this would
be foolish, for they have arranged for me to make a
pot of money at Los Angeles, and I 'd better do this
region up thoroughly while I am here. I shall give
March to southern California, be in San F. again
early in April, for one or two winding-up things,
then off and home before, or on, May 1. . . .
Your loving Susy.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
San Francisco, April 3, 1892.
. . . Since this letter I have yours about Aunt J.'s
legacy. I have already laid it out in countless ways,
in my mind, — my ruling idea is to put it in my
bank and keep spending the whole of it. I mean
whenever I want one hundred dollars for any frivo-
lous or philanthropic purpose, I shall just say, " I '11
do that with Aunt Jane's legacy." There probably
will always be one hundred dollars there, and I can
always thus call it, so keeping her memory green.
Don't this strike you as a good investment? Better
than ten per cent. . . .
Yours,
SUSE.
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 269
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Just beyond Buffalo, Thursday, April 28, 1892.
( Time the same as yours. )
dear luc, — While I was breakfasting, they
changed to eastern time, and my watch is now right !
You know I have kept it at Boston time, and com-
puted the difference, but now, lo and behold, nine
meant nine. I should have kissed it, but for the
public position, in a dining-car. To-night I reach
New York, and a steady bed, at Nelly Blodgett's,
24 West 12th Street. So now, why not wind up
these memoirs, especially as I want to tell you about
a beast there was in Chicago, — but this train is
fearful wobbly, as it is the famous limited, and we
are going lickity-split. . . .
Tuesday, it became clear we should miss our trains
to connect with Chicago. Thus I had the day to
spend in St. Paul, — and what 's more, four dollars
more for a sleeper that night. This was not the
Canadian Pacific's fault, but the St. Paul-Chicago
R. R.'s, for changing their time since my ticket
was issued. I was not loathe to see St. Paul and
after writing Parber and Nelly, I sallied forth into
a great big town which seemed like London after
the crudeness of the Pacific coast. Brick houses ! —
real side-walks (instead of wood planking). Carts
in the crooked streets! Omnibuses! cabs! There
are cables, and electrics, but these haven't entirely
driven out the horse, as on the Pacific slope. I
mounted a cable, took a transfer, and went some one
hundred miles or so out into the suburbs. It must
be very pretty in the spring and summer. Great
Mississippi rolling through the town, and overhung
by pretty houses on cliffs. The fashion of the suburbs
took my car, on return, to do their shopping. A
young girl had Epigcea stuck in her waist, and had
270 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
given some to her young man for his button-hole.
" No, they don't grow here, they were sent me from
Wisconsin," she replied to my question. I thought
she might have given me one, but she didn't. She
had a practice of running her tongue out to catch
her little spotted veil, and sucking it, but no chewing-
gum. This trip would n't last but an hour, — still it
was about time to lunch, so I found McVeigh's, de-
scribed as the swell place, by a porter at the station.
Here I found that if I ordered pot-pie, — they would
throw in bread and butter, coffee, and a piece of any
other kind of pie I chose, all for 25 cents. This is
the only cheap lunch I have had since leaving home.
I would then have strolled about, for the shop win-
dows were large and interesting, but it was pouring
and blowing great guns. My umbrella was turned
wrong-side out, and my only feet were getting wet,
so I beat a retreat to the station — two o'clock and
nothing but to wait till seven-thirty ! Five and one-
half hours, — in all from 7 : 30 a. m. to 7 : 30 p. m.,
twelve hours, — in the Ladies' Waiting Room, that
fascinating retreat! I must say that Union Station
at St. Paul is the best managed I ever saw. To be
sure I never stayed so long in any other. It swarmed
with emigrants the whole time, coming and depart-
ing, eating oranges and bananas and throwing the
skins on the floor; a quiet woman, mistress of cere-
monies, answers their questions, and an excellent
coloured porter swept the place every fifteen minutes
or so. I bought a rotten novel, at the stall, and read
it all, took several strolls, washed my hands often,
ate an orange. Oh, my dear ! Oranges are delicious
since leaving California, I think they must be Flori-
das, — large, sweet, with a delightful odour. The
California oranges have no smell nor taste. But I
really got rattled from sheer fatigue, sitting on a
hard settee, in my bonnet so consecutively, with the
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 271
din and roar of trains without, scuffle of feet within
(it was like a ball-room for changing movement)
and the call of the man, " Cars ready for Rabble-
gabble-jabble-habble, change for Mississippy-nippy
b-b-by;" a dusky porter loved me, and at last came
and brought me to the gate, and by and by I was let
through to my train.
This was a delicious "Manns Boudoir" and why
on earth they don't always have 'em I can't make out,
but I'm told they are not popular! A whole little
room like a stateroom to myself, nice sofa which
becomes bed, with door to shut myself in, plenty
room for box (the Angel), and nice hooks for hang-
ups. Here I passed a blissful night, but bones aching
with the constraint of hard, bolt-upright sitting all
day. So in the morning at nine-thirty on
Thursday we came to Chicago, and here a day to
waste, as my train on my ticket was 5:30 p. m.
Now mark the contretemps of this day, I had to go
to get my sleeper (telegraphed, but not paid for,
from San Francisco) to a place called 66 Clark
Street. When I came out, after fixing that all right,
it was pouring, with thunder and lightning, a phe-
nomenon they don't have in California, so I was
pleased to see it. But the streets began to run rivers,
and I had on my tan, thin shoes (another pair in
the Angel). I took a hansom (25 cents), got
back to the station, ransomed the Angel from the
parcels room (10 cents) took it in a cab (50 cents)
to the Palmer House, ordered a room with bath-
room ($2), bought some newspapers, 10 cents, and
retired to a delightful wallow in bath-tub, and bed.
At one, refitted, I came down to the restaurant and
had a really civilised lunch, $1.50, well served.
If St. Paul had appeared like London, Chicago
seemed Paris, New York, Vienna, rolled into one,
so cosmopolitan. The Palmer is a fine hotel, swarms
272 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
of people coming and going, the service of porters
and everybody prompt and perfect. Cab with Angel
back to station, 25 cents. It was now cleared up,
and blazing hot, sultry, oppressive, with a howling
sirocco that filled the air with dust and brickbats.
I started to call on the ; I didn't in the morn-
ing on acc't of the rain. Glad now I didn't, for
observe the sequence. I arrived at the familiar house,
where you know I feel very much at home, the door
was open, so I walked in as I rang, a servant came,
I turned into the parlour, saying, " Is Mrs. at
home?" "No, she is not," said a young person
about twenty-five, scarcely rising from her chair,
treating me exactly as if I were a book agent. " I 'm
sorry for that," said I, "I am Miss Susan Hale, a
friend of hers from the East." " Is that so ? " she
said, leaning back in her chair again. I sate down
on a hard little settee. " Is Mrs. away ? "
"Yes, she is at a rest-cure." "Oh, — has she been
ill?" I asked. "Eo — but she thought she would
go for a time to rest," etc. With a corkscrew I
elicited that Dr. was also out. " Excuse my
holding my handkerchief in this way," said I, " I
have a large paving-stone in my eye, it 's very dusty."
" Is that so ? " said she. " Yes, I Ve been travelling
for ten days from California and this is my first
sight of a friendly house." "Indeed?" She then
slowly rose from her very comfortable lounging chair.
"Won't you take my seat? You may be tired."
" Thank you," I said, accepting it, " it is a good
while since I have seen a comfortable chair." My
rage was now getting better of my affections, and I
soon rose to go, — she made no effort to detain me.
" Tell Dr. I am sorry to miss him ; Miss Susan
Hale, tell him, please." " Oh, yes, I know who you
are," she said, "good morning," and before I was
out of the house, she was back in the good chair
MATUNTJCK, EUKOPE, CALIFORNIA 273
with her book. Did you ever ! There was more, as
I have abridged this, but all to the same purpose. I
cried a little when I found myself alone, from rage
and sheer fatigue. Did you ever know such brutal
treatment, a dog who had been so long travelling
would have deserved more kindness. I just hope
that when Dr. — — came in he was wild with rage.
She never dreamed of asking me what station I was
at, or when my train was going. While I was sit-
ting there a transfer cart drove up with a trunk, she
and the maid much surprised. She glanced at me
suspiciously ; " Oh, it 's not my trunks," said I
sharply, "they have gone on to New York before
nie." Now did you ever, — who can she be? Some
young relative they have taken on in Mrs. 's
absence. I went back into the hideous streets, such
a sirocco was blowing that people hid themselves in
doorways, or I should have gone to the Art Institute
to hunt up my dear French, Daniel's brother, the
curator there, but instead threw myself into a car
and went back to the station; had been gone just
half an hour ! Won't the be mad, if indeed the
girl tells them! And now it was three-thirty, and
two hours to wait for my train again. My very soul
loathed the " Ladies' Waiting Room," which was
worse than the other, the day was so hot that it
smelled perspiration of emigrant women-ish. But I
bought "David Grieve," which is long, at any rate,
and sate myself down with an orange again. Here,
too, I had a loving porter, Number 9, who took com-
passion, and got me and my box into my sleeper at
five, though the train didn't go till five-thirty. So
since then I was happy, for this is a luscious train,
with princely dining-car; it is fearfully hot, though,
the thermometer was 74° yesterday, they say. Had
a bath at 5 a. m. in the barber's shop. Whenever T
think of that girl I am in a new rage. She didn't
274 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
mean anything, or course; but how insolent she
was. ... So till we meet. . . . Cast down but still
fuming.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lttcketia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 15, 1892.
dear lucretia, — . . . Now to my adventures.
I might just as well have the account engraved for
yearly use, for history so repeats itself. Yesterday
was the day of the Fair, when all Matunuck is ut-
terly abandoned, and not a thing can be got or done
from anybody, — and also as usual it poured guns and
blew blazes, the regular "Line Storm." The storm
began night before in howling wind which rattled
and shook the house. Beamish was out with his lame
foot (which is better), so I was absolutely alone in
the house. About midnight began the fateful tunk-
tunk of the ram (although I had charged 'Lisha to
watch it). Absolutely nothing to do, for if I had
gone down to Browning's in the howling blast, no-
body there who knew anything, and I feared to rouse
poor Gerald, whose gallantry would have driven him
forth. So I just stayed in bed, trying to persuade
myself it was no worse than a sleeping-car or the
St. Paul E. R. station ; — of course I slept off and
on, but great gusts of wind would wake me up, and
then the ram prevent my going to sleep again.
With the first, grim glimpse of a stormy dawn I
began to walk the house, and looking about for Beam-
ish I descried the grey hoss bringing Pa and Tom
Browning swiftly along the road. I ran to Nelly's
window, opened it and yelled, " Mister Browning ! '
A fierce sleet of fine, slanting rain had just begun
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 275
driving into their faces and mine. Tom, who con-
ceived me to be a ghost, with streaming hair, in my
night gown at that unseemly hour, flew up the bank.
I yelled, " the ram, Tom, the ram ! " and pointed
towards the field. " Do yer want me ter stop it ? "
" Yaas! " I cried, and he leaped over fences like one
mad, while Pa Browning " continnered " the hoss
down to their barn. Before I had got rubbed dry,
changed my night gown and back to bed, the darned
thing had stopped, and all was still. Oh ! the relief.
But now shortly Albert, Louise, and Lily came upon
the scene for the usual overture upon the kitchen-
stove, with wind and stringed instruments, accom-
panied by the kerosene can. Beamish came home,
dry as a bone. I conceived the idea of a breakfast
in bed, and accordingly Louise sent up a neat tray
with everything delicious on it. White meat of
chicken, a la maitre d'hotel, johnny cake, fried
potato, and coffee with the best cream. I enjoyed
it leisurely, snoozed, read a French novel, snoozed
again. Then slowly rose for my bath, dressed,
dawdling, and came down. It was &ve minutes past
eight o'clock !
Well, the storm increased as day went on, and by
noon was a regular tearer; the place deserted by
unlucky Fair-goers, no kerosene in the house, nobody
to get it. Gerald came up quite wild because aban-
doned of men, with no vegetables nor nothing. When
the mail-man came he had no mail ! A letter I gave
him blew away, and I had to run round the house
for it. Nothing alive but millions of flies from the
Pier, which infest everything. They have cleaned the
stick-stuff off my stamps. I took Gerald down cellar
to see what could be found, and gave him four ears
of corn and a cucumber, leaving three ears for my-
self, and two tomatoes. The day wore on, an excel-
lent dinner, but I became so dog-sleepy that I con-
276 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
eluded to go to bed at five ! Louise is dretf ul lame
with her rheumatiz, so I invited her to spend the
night in jour room! Lily ran down in my water-
proof to get their night gowns and tell their family.
Swam back, and by dark, which set in early, the house
was absolutely still. We all slept like tops, Beamish
on my bed, and, lo ! the sun rose brilliant this morn-
ing, and 'tis a glorious day. All Matunuck astir.
Cart with the piano-case up here before breakfast,
Thomas J.'s boy with the goose. To be sure they are
all off again to the Fair, but anxious to keep us alive
before starting. I felt fresh and hungry. Louise
slept finely, and is on her legs again, Lily one great
stare, dazed with the luxury of your apartment, un-
wonted indeed. . . .
Suse.
To Miss Litcretia P. Hale
Wagner Vestibuled Train,
New York and Chicago Limited,
New York Central
and
Lake Shore Route
10: 15 a. m., Saturday, February £, 1893.
Ha! my dear Luc, here I am again off on my
travels. I've been so busy that I really haven't
given a moment's thought to the subject, beyond at-
tending to preliminaries, so I am quite surprised to
find myself started for the long trip. . . .
Lots of things I want to tell about, but perhaps
I ?d best give my whole mind first to the Jarley,
which went off finely. I did my hair in smooth
puffs, it is becoming, and I wish it were the fashion,
for I 'm just grey enough now to have it pretty. A
big comb behind. My own new brocade coat over
a real old quilted red petticoat, belonging to Mrs.
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 277
de Forest's grandmother, short, showed feet, a fichu
of Mrs. Goddard's, quite open, and a great big minia-
ture of Mr. Jarley I borrowed of Willy Poor, night
I dined there. Rouge and powder made me look
very well. I had a real old bonnet, yellow satin, and
came out first with it on, and — " Diana of the
Crossways ' ' as a cloak, but I laid these off at once.
I made a speech before the curtain, saying I was the
original Jarley but not the first one, having married
Jarley after her decease. I had a broad-bordered
mourning handkerchief and a big bag, lace mitts.
This speech was well received, the rooms were
crowded; they laughed at all the points very well.
Meanwhile Munzig had trained and placed the wax-
works, and in the applause the curtains drew back
and revealed a pretty tableau of them all. Judge
Howland and Beaman, the two funny men of N. Y.,
par excellence, were dressed like draymen, in checked
suits and paper caps, to lift the figures and dust 'em,
wind up, etc. They were both very nice, en rapport
with me, perfectly themselves, not acting, but saying
funny things. There was a real hand-organ, ground
by Mr. Cross, as an Italian. He was n't a wax-works.
They were: 1, Bo-peep; 2, Mary had a little Lamb;
3, Diana (these all pretty girls of fashion, got up to
look pretty), Columbus subdued by a smile of Indian
Maiden, Paderewski, Gladstone and the cow (no
cow), and the Police Matron, Mrs. Malony, you may
have read about in the papers. The most charming
was Kelly (a young clubman) who danced like Car-
mencita, dressed according, very graceful and pretty.
These were all, except Nora Godwin, who at the last,
as Lorelei, had a little scene with a tail, and fishing
up a drowned sailor. We had the curtain three
times with intermissions, so the thing was long
enough; — but at the end there were howls for
Jarley, and I sang " Coming through the Rye "and
278 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
the " Lapland " song. All then demanded that
" Missing the Train," which I had done at Mrs.
Goddard's, and a banana was sent for to Mrs. Hunt's,
three doors off. As I had no costume or properties
for doing that, I invented a yarn I have long thought
of, telling the plot of a story all mixed up so that
there is no sense in it, while I ate the banana. This
pleased them. Oh, while we were waiting for
the banana Howland and Beaman sang " Johnny
Smoker " — and at the very end, when we were called
out once more, they both shouted at once, " We both
want to be Mr. Jar ley." It was all easy and jolly
and like our old charade doings, and everybody was
delighted. Swarms of people came to me after, at
a sumptuous supper; 't would take a week to re-
count them all. I was pretty tired but slept well, and
was equal to my packing next day. Howland and
Beamen were awfully nice to me, and all the rest,
in fact, but the rest are chiefly fools — of the per-
formers, I mean. Mr. Tod was very nice, and so
in fact was Mrs. Tod, a little woman of fashion, in
short, a Potter. Billy Bobby Ware was there, stern
with me for not letting him know I was in ~R. Y. I
am sorry about that, forgot him at first, and then
too much engulfed with engagements. Nelly Blod-
gett sent me an immense bunch of the lastest kind of
roses, to wear tied with a broad pink ribbon. I now
take my koumiss. . . .
Yours,
SUSE.
To Miss Ltjcretia P. Hale
Chicago, Illinois, February 7, 1893.
dear luc, — ... As these people here are roll-
ing in wealth on both sides, it is a luxurious, hand-
some house, with rugs, pictures, servants ad lib., a
turbulent family, slaves to the telephone, which is
MATUNUCK, EUROPE, CALIFORNIA 279
going incessantly — some of them are a little deaf,
so the key is high on which all conversation is pitched.
It 's odd, but though this luxe is as different as pos-
sible from the simple Dr. Dudley home, there's the
very same flavour of Chicago unrest, noise, racket,
hurry, bustle, no repose, no particular centre, outside
people pouring in, the family pouring out, everybody
late to meals, the father hurrying on the food, car-
riage always at the door, some rushing for cars and
missing them, Robert taking snap photographs, the
dog bursting in and breaking an expensive plaque,
nobody grumbling at anything, all very sunny and
happy, very well-bred, polite to me, our departure
to-night a mere circumstance — such is life in Chi-
cago. I can't think the race can stand it more than
one hundred years, if so much. Meanwhile it's
amusing to watch. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
124 Rush Street, Chicago, Friday,
April %8, 1893.
dear lucretia, — Quel scrimmagio ! we are all
full of plans and engagements and skurrying to and
fro and the "joy of eventful living." It is like
6 Hamilton Place on the eve of " Water Day " only
more so. Mrs. M. is a delightful hostess and just
throwing herself into a whole summer of the fiercest
hospitality, and I come in for the first fruits. But
I must be calm and mention that I have got here, all
safe, and am now nicely rested. . . .
The place reeks and swarms with the just and the
unjust. . . .
We went to see the Fair grounds yesterday, in the
carriage, and, oh, my dear ! it is glorious there. You
must be tired of hearing of it. But if you '11 imagine
280 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
an area as fine as the whole of the Louvre, Tuileries,
Pantheon, Palais de Justice, Invalides, with the
Seine thrown in, bridges and all, suddenly spring up
in a night, all of white marble, and set down on the
borders of the beautiful lake, you'll sort of under-
stand. Not miniature, or imitation looking, but the
real big things, with real canals and real gondolas
floating about. Aunt Maggie kept groaning what a
pity they are not of permanent materials, but to my
mind there's the very charm — it's a great bubble
blown up in honour of the time, which will be dissi-
pated when the occasion for it has ceased. We only
saw the outside ensemble, rolled about in chairs by
nice students from universities, in blue coats, with
good manners. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
CHAPTER IX
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, THE WEST,
EUROPE
(1893-1897)
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, Monday,
8 : 30 a. m., May 22, 1893.
{Breakfast done at 7 o'clock.)
deae luceetia, — Mrs. G. Child has got eighteen
little ducklings, the sweetest things you ever saw.
Cornelia says the frogs will eat them, but the frogs
ain't come " aout " yet, so they are sailing about the
pond. I was strolling back from Ramses, where I
had been to look after the lady's-slippers ; they are
still in bud, very small as yet, and not many, — and
coming round by Jerry's cart-track and through the
G. Child barn-yard I conversed with Walter Perry,
who it seems is a worthy soul. . . . Well — " Her
gawselings, two on 'em, was took the noight before,
so there ain't but four gawselings to be sailing
around the pond," — four sponsors, however, or
grandfathers, or old geese, remain from last year
with them. While I was grieving for this, however,
he said, cheering up, " But th' old duck come back
yesterday with eighteen hatched out ! ' " Did ! " said
Susan.
" Yes, yer know" (as if it was in the papers)r
" she stole her nest last year and brought home eight,
but now there's eighteen."
Much encouraged by this I was hurrying home,
282 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
when, lo! at their landing (this was exactly at sun-
set, seven o'clock), set sail on the pond, the sweetest
sight, little Ma duck,
but stay: let me depict,
their heads like little
black knobs, but all pad-
dling and steering and veering like old crafts. Ain't
it too bad the frogs will get them ?
A change of dynasty occurred here at that same
hour, without bloodshed. Exit Cornelia, and vive
Louise. This was made to suit these ladies, Louise
didn't afeel to come" before, and now "she feels
to come." Cornelia consented to come to 'commer-
date Louise, but now she thinks Louise wants the
job, and besides her settin' hen requires her atten-
tion, "for lor sakes they don't know nothin' abaout
chickens." " They " is Hannah, Oliver, and Frank-
lin, who calmly allowed a chicken to die without
counting it.
Cornelia was in fine form, and vastly entertaining,
but Louise, after all, suits me better; she is enor-
mous this year, but well, and is now carrying some
new pails up garret, with a rolling sort of gait, be-
seeming to 250 avoirdupois.
Because I went to Wakefield Saturday alone, and
came home with brooms sticking out of the wagon,
pails piled behind, bread, dish-towels and papering
for Fullum's room, for Knowles he 's selling out, and
has a pretty assortment of papers cheap — 'Lishe
and Alice will come and paper to-morrer, if Louise
will go down to Weedens' and help clean this after-
noon. . . .
Your loving Susie.
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 283
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, May 30, 1893.
dear Caroline, — When I came back and saw my
front stairs, I sate down on them and laughed, they
looked so unclothed after wading knee-deep in your
rugs (like the talking oak, only his were ferns). No
matter it 's real good here outdoors, — and so I dare-
say it is with you to-day, for the sun has come out
bravely. Things were rather at sixes and sevens, the
bed taken down in my room, and everything thrown
out of window, for instead of beating the carpet and
putting it down in my absence, Elisha had interested
himself in mowing the lawn. Now new-mown hay is
very well in its way, but you do like a place to put
your bonnet. No matter again.
Mounds of letters, and loathesome masses of news-
papers two mails old, like cold griddle-cakes.
It was lovely crossing, mild in spite of the grey,
and I was fully busy thinking all about my comfort-
ing visit, dear, for that is what it was to me. This
is all I'm going to write now, for I sit in chaos.
Lots of love from
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, October %, 1893.
dear luc, — Phil, came Tuesday, Cornelia was
here and in fine spirits, and cooked like a breeze the
succulent things in the larder. But, lo! on Thurs-
day (it now seems ages ago), Oliver came down and
said Hannah was sick. Cornelia put the turkey in
the stove, made a good fire to last, threw away the
pumpkin all strained and seasoned for pies, and de-
parted in haste. I went to the kitchen, and lhat day,
and Eriday, and Saturday, myself cooked everything
284 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
that was eaten in the house ! I did it, of course, re-
markably well, and Philip was indulgent, but, oh!
it is a terrible drag on the legs as well as other
members. . . . The first day Phil, and I washed all
the dishes after dinner, that you know is what kills,
— after standing all the morning, to go at it again
at the sink. But good old Franklin came every day
afterwards, and made the fire mornings, and stayed
round, and I called in Oliver, who dined with Frank-
lin and stayed afterwards to help him wash up.
'Twas a sight to see the two old darkies clumsily
puttering away with the mops and towels. Oh ! those
mornings! to wake up in doubt of any help — cold
as Greenland — my bath at six, — then down to a
cold kitchen, the faithful Franklin appearing just as
I gave him up, — then making myself the coffee,
sweeping the red room, in a royal clutter, of course,
with Phil., his cigarettes, the constant fire, news-
papers all scattered round, — set the table, back to
kitchen to fry sausages and potatoes and make toast,
boil milk, skim the cream, put away the milk, keep
neat the refrigerator, fetch Phil.'s waterpail, and
cheer him in bed with news from the front, — break-
fast always late, on account of slowness of fire to
boil coffee, sinking down in a chair to get something
inside of me — no spoons, or butter or something else
lacking, so to jump up and get them — and the fire
to be kept up in the red room. . . . My ! was I glad
on Sunday morning to hear Cornelia's genial voice!
Hannah is all right ; it was a scare, and Cornelia gave
us a royal dinner in four courses, — Phil.'s send-off
before he departed same Simday p. m. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUKOPE 285
To Mrs. William G. Weld
New York, December 9, 1893.
my Caroline, — No quiet sitty-sitty in my room
after breakfast to write letters, for all is a rush and
whirl. Yesterday I didn't put pen to paper, and
now I must go forth into the world immediately.
We supped with Irving and Terry last night at Papa
Parke Godwin's, and these lions didn't dream of
leaving us till two, two (2), so it was half -past when
Susan stretched herself along the bed, and this morn-
ing there was no sign of breakfast till nine. Opera
the night before, and it was one o'clock before we
"retired," to be quite correct. Is it not lucky my
constitution is so confirmed (?) by nights and nights
of Fooley Ann, so I am equal to all this ? Opera was
charming; Melba, a new light, has a fresh young
voice, very flexible, and a wonderful method. It was
Thomas " Hamlet," finely put on the stage, good or-
chestra. We were up in the third tier, it was fun
to look down on Mrs. Kruger's neck and shoulders,
and Mrs. Whitelaw Reid's diamonds. . . .
Niece Nelly is having a fine time with her Daven-
ports, and I had a charming dinner there last eve-
ning, after which we all went in two carriages to see
Irving and Terry in " Henry VIII." Glorious, the
stage setting wonderful. I had no idea I was going
to meet them after it at the Godwins', — but there
they came. I sate next him. He is charming. She
is rather frubsy, restless, very gracious, however. He
has given us a box for the " Lyons Mail," Saturday
evening, — and to-night I go to Willard's " Profes-
sor's Love Story." Voila! . . .
Your Susan,
286 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
October 10, 1894.
How lovely of you, dear Carla, to write me such
a nice letter. It will comfort me for Robert's de-
parture to answer it to-day. A howling, howling
northeast storm; the house rocked and shook in the
night, it leaked and drip-dripped in my bedroom.
Early in the dark, gloomy morning, a blind I opened
(thereby drenching me and my nighty), banged and
smashed a big pane, that one at the head of the
kitchen stairs. I nailed it up feebly with a piece
of thin board (in the same costume, before my bath).
Here in the red room with a cosy fire it is quiet,
being southwest, and Pa and Ma Wells are still
quietly sleeping in their room above me, where Mamie
and Gladys lived. . . .
I delight to be here, — later than for several years.
The weather up to to-day has been just perfect; I
never saw such a glorious day as Sunday, — and it
will be fine no doubt, after this. I 'm thankful my
Robert got off yesterday, for would n't this have been
a howler to drive in, to Kingston? I miss him ter-
ribly, and it was awful, last week, to have Phil. go.
But you know I am an incorrigible devotee to soli-
tude, and am never so cheerful, I believe, or so un-
ruffled by small difficulties as when I'm alone.
There 's a sort of obligation to be polite and pleasant
to yourself when nobody else is round, and besides, —
what 's the use of getting mad with yourself ? Your-
self can't hit back.
How ridiculous for Robert to go to a different
wedding in Pittsfield. How absurd it would sound
in a book ! Speaking of books, we have done pretty
well this summer for reading aloud, — all the " Sinky-
witch" books, i.e., " Fire and Sword," " Deluge,"
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUROPE 287
two volumes, " Pan Michael," "Yanko," as well as
" Patronage," " Pendennis," " Beauchamp's Career,"
and " Richard Feverel." Robert and I read " Pen-
dennis' (nine hundred big pages) in less than a
week. Last evening I was so solitary and sleepy,
after a glorious, long walk, I thought I should have
to go to bed at seven-thirty ; but began a wicked old
novel of Dumas, and didn't stir from it till
nine. . . .
Your always loving
Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
1619 Indiana Avenue, Chicago, Illinois,
Sunday, January W, 1895.
dear luc, — . . . Buffalo was very delightful
and my heart still remains with the Rogers family,
especially Pa and Ma Rogers, who are lovely, gentle,
folks. . . .
Wednesday the trunks went off at 11 a.m., after
that there was a moon-like calm all day, for whatever
else they bought they had to carry in their hands.
At 9 p. m. we all (except the dogs) left the house for
the station, and soon bade farewell to the parents and
James Johnston, and rolled off in the swell private
car, only my berth was in a common one next. I
breakfasted with them all next morning, sumptu-
ously, at a real table in a real room with huge plate-
glass panes to the windows. . . .
Scene now changes to a very pleasant, light, quiet
spare-room with bath-room adjacent at this friendly
house. Mrs. Dudley and the Doctor very cordial,
really pleased, and just as witty, clever, agreeable as
possible. . . .
There was to be a great musicale that first evening
at Mrs. Glessner's, so I took a (after the sleeper of
288 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
previous night) useful nap, in some anguish about
my trunk (as it started with the California ones,
by a separate train from ours), but it turned up all
right, and I put on my fine golden Day gown. It
was a beautiful affair in the splendid Glessner
Eichardson-made chateau, ladies dressed in " 1 8th
Century " costume, either powdered, or a la Recamier,
anything except modern, though, of course, many,
like me, in ordinary gowns. The house was a bower
of roses, the electric lights veiled in pink artificial-
flower shades, so the light was dim, while through
an arch of smilax (this new kind) the orchestra,
Thomas, played delightful things. After that, sup-
per, standing, roving round the place, lots of people
I knew, amongst others Mrs. David Coolidge (a
Shurtleff), who is staying here with her son, Dr.
Fred, who married a Chicago Sprague. . . . Lots
of people fell on my neck on account of Papa Ed-
ward. President Harper and Mrs. Palmer of the
university there, — and others, from which spring
future engagements, to be reported as they come off.
It was a very brilliant and beautiful occasion, worthy
of any cosmopolitan city, the only thing to note es-
pecially is that they take more pains here to be cor-
rect, — but nothing is overdone, nothing vulgar. The
two celebrated belles of Chicago, Mrs. Caton and
Mrs. Eddy, had correct rococo costumes, brocades
cut just like our grandma one, but brand-new. Their
hair powdered, and all their diamonds on in tiaras,
or elsewhere. . . . But, oh ! now for Mrs. C . I
knew her before. She is lion-hunter enragee, ad-
vanced female, views, everything, but above all, given
to hospitality. She came, she said, "to carry me
off " after the lunch, to spend the night at her house
over on the north side (between which and us is a
great gulf fixed, you know). I was aghasted, I
twisted in the toils, but in vain, so, now let me tell
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 289
you about it. In the first place they all stayed till
four-thirty, then she (the last) said, " Now, Miss
Hale." I had to go up and hastily invent a few
things for the night, which I put in the Angel, then
came down and drove in her sort of hunched-up
carryall with sides buckled down, it was pouring,
talking a blue streak two miles to her house, — she
said the house was full of the people coming to her
party, but she was to find a corner for me ; " she knew
I was the sort would n't mind sharing a bed." Eancy
my anguish ! The house when we got there proved
to be the largest I was ever in, very modern, swell,
in swell part of Chic. Immense drawing-room like
a conservatory, all windows, on a curve, with win-
dow-seat overlooking the lake, — an organ in it, —
grand piano, mere detail, crooked-legged chairs, arm-
chairs, consoles, girandoles, flowers, pictures, rugs, —
not too much, fairly good taste, Dresden, Limoges,
Sevres, photographs all over the house. Halls with
stairs up and down, and open fireplaces, long corri-
dors,— double doors, portieres. All in a bustle,
maids about, mistress of the house returning after
the whole day out, regarded with a vague interest
by people putting ferns in vases. Mrs. Dean Palmer
advanced and was received joyfully. She had missed
her train, so came and made herself at home (she
was invited for the evening, but had meant to go back
to her university and change her gown). Mrs. C.
embraced her, gave a few orders, then noticed me
standing in the middle of the place with my Angel
at my feet, "Oh, Miss Hale, — by the way, — yes,
we must put you somewhere, — well, suppose we all
come up into my room." Here she forgot all about
me again, but Alice Palmer, taking compassion, in-
vited me up another flight to her room as she called
it, having taken herself possession on her arrival.
Here I got on the bed. Observe I had parted com-
290 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
pany with, my Angel, bonnet, fur and india-rubbers,
and met them not till long after. I needed this nap,
for I had been in the sleeper one night, then the next,
up late at Mrs. Glessner's, and not drawn rein. I
found a bath-room and a stray comb, and dressed
according to my lights, without any baggage, and
strolled down just in time for dinner at a long, con-
fused table. Frank Sanborn is the real lion of this
set for the moment. He is talking about Abolition-
ists on Tuesdays at Mrs. C 's, and staying there.
. . . But next me sat Miss Root, femme mure who
lives chez Mrs. C , Swedenborgian, but a very
attractive woman, and there was a Miss Bryan there
I afterwards much liked. These people were all by
the way of adoring me, and it went very well, though
I was cross, tired, and dull along that part. You see
the thing was endless. We were scarce through a
scattery kind of dinner, where you had to keep pass-
ing the olives, but in a superb dining-room, with
more Limoges and Sevres and Spode up on shelves
made on purpose, when guests began to burst in by
stairs up from the front door, and we had to come
out and be presented. Here was Miss Lunt, who
idolises Mrs. May Lowe Dickinson, and had met me
at her house in New York, and people, chiefly named
Root, poured in because they are musical and were
to sing. It was about this time that I slipped up-
stairs and wandered round searching for my effects,
and met a nice, coloured Ellen, who runs the house,
who, moved by my state, found my Angel, and put
me in a room with two beds inhabited by the C
boys, with guns and shaving materials, but always
more Limoges and Sevres and plaques of Abraham
Lincoln. I got out my slippers and a fresh hand-
kerchief; I had on a fairly good gown for a lunch,
but no gloves, and felt only half dressed, but every-
body else was so, except Mrs. C , who had time
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUROPE 291
to slip into a pale blue surah waist, and do her hair
over.
About a hundred people came tumbling in, or let
us say fifty, but really as many as that. The singing
was beautiful, some Christmas music, the room so
large the organ was not overpowering. Mrs. Winn was
there, that used to run the Quincy Shaw school,
adores Nelly, — and, mind you, I was presented to
every one as the chief lion, and they all raved about
Papa. Mrs. A is a very sweet old lady slightly
deaf. She followed me about, and I liked her, only
she is rabid for woman's suffrage, and I felt like a
fraud, yet didn't want to discuss the subject. Frank
Sanborn and I sate together part of the time on a
sort of Recamier-sofa-throne, and cracked jokes about
Boston. But the time seemed endless. I saw other
happy people going away! but I couldn't, like the
caged bird. New people dropped in about eleven,
and we lions had to be trotted out again, and stand
on one leg after the other. Finally the last went,
and then to bed; but where! The sainted daughter,
Sally, gave up her luxurious room to me, Ellen, the
darkey, brought my Angel, my bonnet, my fur! At
last I was in bed. Nice bath in the morning in a
china bath-tub of great size. Long breakfast table,
and really rather amusing talk, for now I felt fresh,
with Alice Palmer, P. Sanborn, and all the rest; for
six slept there, and the family is fourteen. And so
by and by escaped ; and a very agreeable Irish coach-
man drove me home in a buggy. Wasn't that a
time! . . .
Yours,
Susan.
292 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lttcbetia P. Hale
Chicago, February i, 1895.
dear luc, — ... Another epave of ancient time
is Professor Palmer, just now visiting his Dean wife,
and much feted; . . . We met them last evening at
a very grand dinner at Mrs. Glessner's, of sixteen
guests. I wore my Day gold gown, which is gorgeous.
I sat next to Thomas, the conductor. I was rather
scared, but he is easy to talk to. His wife is Amy
Fay's sister, you know (that was with me in Boston),
that kind of Fay to which Zebra Pierce belongs.
The dinner was for the Palmers, after dinner I had
lots of talk with Mrs. Alice Freeman Palmer, and
she was, in fact, charming. She is just resigning her
post of Dean here, and goes back to settle down in
Cambridge, where he "professors," but first they
travel abroad for a year. There was also Professor
Laughlin, . . . quite an amusing fellow. All these
eastern importations like to sit and analyse Chicago,
and it is an interesting study. Laughlin says the
women are far more advanced than the men; they
certainly run the whole thing, and the men do have
a cowed look; Dr. Dudley holds his own, however.
A distinguished military-looking man with white hair
and irreproachable shirt-front proved to be Marshall
Field, the great shopkeeper where I bought my wrap-
per, but he is a man of intelligence and philanthropy,
triple millionaire. I should think he would wear
orders and call himself le Marechal Field. . . .
The table was beautiful, a huge centre-piece of
white roses and lilies of the valley, on crimson plush,
iive butlers, and lots of courses — but the terrapin
was not up to the Philadelphia mark. The men at
these feasts stay away an endless time ; and it 's not
because they drink or smoke much, for there is very
little wine at these dinners, and only a few have
MATUJSTUCK, NEW YOKE, EUKOPE 293
cigars ; it 's another sign of the supremacy of woman,
for the men think they want to be left to themselves !
I remonstrate, though last night I was having a very-
pleasant talk with Mrs. Palmer, when Laughlin
joined in. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Iowa City, Wednesday, February W, 1895.
dear luc, — I have just finished a stupendous
copying job for Edward, twenty-nine pages of break-
jaw stuff about Old English syllables, it has taken
three days. It will affect my wits and handwriting
in this letter, but I wanted to get that off my mind,
and yet I must write this to keep up the continu-
ity which works so well; for yours came in this
morning. . . .
You may well guess that my randans here have
begun. Such a time! Edward is quite dismayed
at my being such a lion, but he is very sweet and
patient with it. Thirty-two calls have been made on
me, and yesterday a great reception of me from all
the Ladies' clubs. Edward is so funny about it, he
says, " Of course you are nice, but what I can't
understand is your being a literary celebrity."
But these small towns beat the Dutch; I believe
they would run after , if she should come this
way, and, indeed, she would be a worthy subject for
their rampant curiosity, which is all it is, in matter
of fact. Our Mrs. Copeland, the landlady, began it.
Of course Mrs. Shaeffer (observe I spell her more
copiously after seeing her card) and a few of the
Professor's wives, felt bound to call on Edward's
aunt, — but Mrs. Copeland, at meals, when I have
lingered after Edward's departure, was much carried
away by my charms, because I knew Louisa Alcott,
294 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
had seen Longfellow and Emerson, and been in a
hack with Susan B. Anthony. She, Mrs. Copeland,
"is a club-woman/' — and she early secured me to
" attend a meeting " of her club, they were going to
discuss Michelangelo, but come to think on't, they
concluded to discuss me, and then to invite members
of all the other clubs in town, then they asked me
to " address them on some subject,' ' and then it
slipped unawares into the local newspaper. So there
was the greatest fussing and calling and consulting,
and people who had n't yet " visited " now " visited,"
and in fine, yesterday was the day, and Mrs. Bloom's
the house. Moses Bloom was a great Jew here, and
his widow lives in the "most elegant mansion'1 in
the place, and by good luck she belongs to some club,
so Mrs. Copeland worked on her to receive the "Amal-
gamated Clubs " at her house, and Mrs. Bloom called
on me as a preliminary, and I was out, so on Sunday
she went to our church ! to bag me coming out, and
Mrs. Barrett, who is the President of Mrs. Copeland's
club, called on me, and I was out, so she fixed an
hour through Mrs. C. to call again, and learn my
views on my subject, that she might fitly introduce
me. They were crazy that I should talk about the
celebrated people I have known, but I wouldn't do
that, so they were e'en content with a " talk " about
Corsica, etc. Well the house is very pretty, just like
the Brookline later, suburban houses, of wood, large
rooms, portieres, hard floors, rugs — somewhat crude
in adornments, but not really back in sea-shells and
snipped-paper ornaments, very pretty, in fact. Mrs.
Bloom, as hostess, Mrs. Barrett, as President of the
N. N. Club, Mrs. Copeland, as my keeper, myself,
as the received, stood in the doorway, and met about
fifty or more ladies of the three clubs, viz., the Art
Club and the 19th Century, and " Ours," the N. N.
(No Name) Club. There was a little remorqueurj or
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 295
tug-boat, named Miss , or something, who took
in tow separately members of her club (the 19th C),
and presented these, but the Art Club had to stretch
for themselves, for their President is abroad. . . .
Of course, I had seen about a dozen of the ladies
before, and some of them are very well-bred, well-
dressed, attractive women, . . . and they all have
an appalling thirst for the improvement of their
minds. There are folding doors, and I sate in the
middle of them with a stiff circle round the edge of
each room. It was rather formidable, as the prevail-
ing dress is black silk, and I had to turn my head
from one set to the other, like a weather-cock (I no-
tice my neck is a bit stiff this morning). But I fell
to prattling in a perfectly easy way about my trip
with Susan across Corsica, and they sate enwrapped,
— and many managed out of my simple tale of travel-
ling to extract " a thought " to elevate and instruct.
I managed it in laps, leaving off when I feared they
would flag — when lemonade was served, after which
I went at it again. They thought it was beautiful,
and Mrs. Copeland quotes a lady, who "envies me
that vocabulary." So I got back to Edward, who was
much amused by my account, and we are both re-
lieved it is over. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Mes. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, April $4, 1896.
. . . Oh, my dear, such a relief to get here. I was
in a horrid way in town, the last end of my tether,
body and soul. It was lovely and warm when we got
here, and everything so nicely prepared. Such an
improvement on the early days of my arrivals, when,
as once, I had to kick in the back door myself, in
order to enter a cold, neglected house. Now Elisha
296 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
was at the door, Louise in the kitchen, maynowers
on the table, bright fire on the hearth, a few letters
waiting, and Christie, hurrying up the hill with eggs,
and Thomas J., going down after leaving a chicken.
I had a fine smoking-hot meal of steak and boiled
potatoes about five, and went to bed at six, in broad
daylight, birds singing outside my window. Since
then weVe had a cold
turn, and I got wet to the
skin (fact) away down by
the ponds picking "ar-
butus." Not so very good
for grippe, you will say,
but in fact I've been bet-
ter ever since; it kind of
shook me up I expect.
I can read here ! ! Don't
think I've opened a book
since March 1. I have
a Cherbuliez novel, which
starts well, down on the Mediterranean, and I have
Mrs. Clifford's " Flash of Summer " ; have you seen
it? Terribly sad, but extremely well written. All
these tales nowadays begin with a most unpromising
marriage, and worry along to a miserable death or
two at the end, but it's no use to expect anything
different.
• • •
Lots of love.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
May 6, 1896. 46° !
dear luc, — Two delicious days, Monday and
Tuesday, sitting in the doorway, with warm sun, and
such rich-throated birds ; one had his little gullet just
full of rapture he threw out, expressly for me, sitting
MATUlNrUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 297
on the post of the piazza. I begged him to settle
there for the summer. But a grummelly unemcient
thunder shower in the afternoon yesterday changed
all during the night to howling north winds, blowing
from everywhere, and to-day it is grey and freezing
cold again, so I return to my fireside. However,
those two days were worth waiting a winter.
Always yrs.,
Susie.
Matunuck, Ehode Island, May 27, 1896.
dear luc, — I want to tell you that I saw the full
moon rise last night, my first dealings of any sort
with the heavenly bodies this season. It was really,
full the night before, but fogs and clouds, — so, as
last evening, it was booked to rise at eight-forty-two,
I slipped on my red dressage when I went to bed at
eight-thirty (in Fullum's room), and softly stepped
into my own room, not to disturb Louise; there I
sate in big arm-chair waiting the performance. It
was lovely, the only night possible to call warm
(except that cracker of a Sunday), so dark and still,
frogs singing, whippoorwills, and occasionally a cow
remarking in the dark. Where to look I knew not, — ■
so little conversant with moons of late. Scorpio was
over Africa in the least land-locked part of our hori-
zon. Well : by and by came a flush behind the Point
Judy lighthouse ! and then the rim ! — away out to
sea, at least five moons' widths to the right (or south)
of Point Judy, so that it made a wake across the^
water when it got high enough. It was very beauti-
ful, coppery, and strolling slowly upward through
belts of fog. So then I went to bed. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
298 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Matunuck, Khode Island, June h, 1896.
dear lucretia, — . . .Yesterday I didn't touch
pen to paper ; at nine-thirty, after wrangling at cart-
rails till I was nearly wild, — having bought a slop-
pail, a duster, a gem-pan and a floor-broom, and
resisted the lure of fifty feet of hose, — I shrieked
to Erancis, " Let 's get out of this ! " — and we started
off on a great walk after arethusa. The country is
enchanting. We hied up through Goodchildses, and
admired her pigs, which she has set up in a " stoi "
near Jerry's cart-track. Climbed the gate and en-
countered " George Oi's " sheep with lots of little
lambs. Crossed to the Kingston road foot of Broad
Hill, and walked up to Mrs. Teft's, finding lupines
under the pine trees. Mrs. Teft she was washing and
real glad to see us, the medder pinks made her think
o' me, and she was wondering. She 's pretty well ex-
cept for the rheumatiz, and washed out three days in
the week all winter long over to Segurses'. She had
forty eggs sot, but nothin' come on 'em but four
brilers, and she let them go last week to Hen. Whaley.
She thought mebbe I 'd like them, but he come along.
So we left her, and went down through her "swormp''
and got the arethusas (same as medder pinks), and
so came up round by Peths'. She also was in her
tubs (why Wednesday (?))? Du^ took us into the
parlour and said, " Ye 'd better take off your bunnit
(my beret) and cool yer head." They's all up in
confusion with them bees that swormed that morning
and all aout in the apple tree now loose, but Josh
he ain't never stung cause he can manage 'em. She
was thinking of whitewashing, but sot down to read
a letter. This to account for the disorder of the
room. She give us " pinies," and snowballs, and we
come on down through the fascinating wood-path,
with laurel just hinting, to Cornelia's. She was
whitewashing, and met us with hands upraised all
MATUlSrUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 299
limy — but presented a dusky cheek to my embrace.
She was dretful glad to see us, and her cats come
round most friendly. By the way, Mrs. Teft had a
new kitten, named Grover Cleveland. Cornelia's
lilacs is all " threw" with, but she gave us yaller
lilies. Down through their poine-woods ter Mrs.
Abby Tucker's, but nobody but the dorg at home,
and him inside barkin' on us. I see her brilers are
pretty well along, and her white rose well on to blow.
Wasn't this a nice trip? We reached here reeking,
just in time for a rubdown, the mail, and old fowls
fricasseed. I must stop.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Katharine P. Bowditch
(Mrs. Ernest Amory Codman)
Matunuck, Rhode Island, May SO, 1896.
my Katharine, — I had such a glorious rainbow
here all to myself last evening. I want to tell you
about it right off. I was thinking about you when
it happened, so you see you came into it. It began
up behind the hill back of the Matlacks' and stretched
over the Salt Pond, and Brownings', and " Hogs-
wallow," which is now a mass of apple-blossoms, and
" P'int Judy," and came down behind the " Tumble-
down," but not into the ocean, for it stretched over it
so you saw the water-tints through the shaded colours
of the rainbow, and all that landscape framed thus,
and sparkling with the recent rain, was exquisite.
It lasted quite half an hour, I am sure, growing more
and more intense, — with the outer, reflected, re-
versed bow, distinct in every part, though fainter.
It was so lovely, I sort of felt it was a sign that
things were going to be better with us. The porch
300 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
shut it off partly, so I got a kitchen-chair there was
in the best parlour and sate a long time (with a cape
on) out in the driveway, just in front of the house,
to watch it. Swallows were rejoicing round, and two
soared up together into the arch, and made me think
of Franz's song (isn't it?).
" Ach, Voglein, du hast dich betrogen
Sie wohnet nicht mehr in Thai
Schwing' auf dich zum Himmelsbogen
Griiss' sie droben zum letzten Mai."
Just then Louise came along with my supper on the
little p. m. tea-table. " Where are you ? ' " Out
here ! " I cried, and she put it down in front of me,
table and all. Dropped guinea-hen's egg on toast,
and little new radishes. It was raining, you know,
and there I sate in the middle of the road, all laugh-
ing and crying, and eating my supper. The bow went
higher and higher as the sun set and setter, until it
was all melted into vague clouds and softness — and
I came in and lighted the fire.
Mr. Robert Browning is well. He came along
during the rainbow (before I had my supper), and
we conversed about it. I said (too lightly, I fear),
"Well, the people in the ark were glad to see it."
" Yes, that 's so," said he, very seriously. " And we
hain't no mention of there ever bein' a bow previous
to then." I must tell that to Robby.
Own
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 16, 1896.
my dear carla, — Oh ! Carla, you can guess that
I miss Robert now terribly. This morning I was
thinking, — I must have Robert. His soothing in-
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 301
fluence kept everybody at his or her best — now, with
all the different elements, they are at odds, and I
can't talk with him about it to get comfort and
counsel. . . .
There are five maids or nurses in the kitchen, and
Franklin has his breakfast every day. My motto is,
" Kill, kill, slay and eat," for it seems as if there
could not be enough things in the house to feed so
many. I love the fray, you know, only my head
gets confused sometimes, after six weeks of absolute
quiet and solitude. The children are delicious. . . .
But just fancy last Sunday, pouring sheets of rain
outdoors, cold and damp within, fires in the red room
and Aunt Lucretia's, gloomy groups scattered over
the house and moulting in tie kitchen. Not a hole
to hide in ! Thank heaven to-day is warm and glow-
ing with sunlight. The place looks lovely, and all
Matunuck is in perfection. Laurel just over every-
thing. Lots of love, dear Carla, from your
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 18, 1896.
dear my carla, — I am rottens not to write you
before, but I am up to my ears in housework since
the departure of the gilt-edged ladies. Has Phil, or
anybody written you what a scrimmage there was
that first week of September with fifteen people in
the house, and only fat Louisa Sebastian to " do " for
'em? We all turned to and set tables and washed
dishes. Edward was fine, he tried to wipe tumblers,
but couldn't get his hand inside he said. Parber
and I made the beds, and Erancis proved himself a
first-class butler. It was all because nobody was will-
ing to go away. We have calmed down now, only six
302 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
and a half at table, Geraldine's the half, — and we
have a regular routine of " stretching for ourselves."
Louise Gray changes the plates, Peggy cuts the bread
and fills the tumblers, Phil, makes sudden lunges at
the dishes to carry them out to the kitchen. Every-
one so accommodating that it runs merrily, and all
agree it's much pleasanter than the strait-laced
regime of Queen Mary, and Loisy's cooking makes
them eat twice as much as in Hannah's time. Of
course, it 's a little more work for me, but we are all
so happy I don't mind it. Only if I wash the break-
fast things, I don't write letters. September has
slipped along like lightning, and it is good for me
to be busy to keep off the wolves of thoughts about
last year. . . .
Loving Susan.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Alger, Wednesday, December 16, 1896.
dear luc, — With my nice coffee and marmalade
(fresh butter, and such rolls) I was planning many
necessary letters; but I believe I must begin one to
you, to say that I've got my wooden bowl. It is ex-
actly my dream, that I imagined in coming, only
really better in several ways. Is n't that wonderful ?
— I was so afraid Madame Kirsch wouldn't give
me this room, — the one I had first, last time, and
which I dearly loved, and which I had to leave, in
about two weeks when we moved to the villa, where
my room was n't half so nice. So when we got here,
and Madame led us up (six flights) I was all of a
tremble till she came to the right door, opened the
same window, and there was my terrace — and the
view ! I think it 's about the most beautiful view in
the world — perhaps that San Ysidro one is better,
but something like. Oh, my! the curving bay and
MATUNUCK, NEW YOEK, EUKOPE 303
white-capped mountains, and sun just rising over
them into glorious blue sky, and the peacock water
all across the horizon, and on the left Algiers. And
then up here the nice, brick terrace all our own now
with a parapet that you can dry your towels on,
absolutely not overlooked, so high up : and down
below the winding road with little donkeys' trot-trot,
and boys sitting sideways, and Arabs and dogs and
butchers' carts, and a horn blowing, and jingle-jingle,
and tall cypress trees sticking up, and red roofs all
scattered amongst olive-trees, and the white villa
opposite, but below, so not to shut out anything, all
hung with vines; and great fat roses climbing over
our gate, and lots of them on my bureau. And warm,
with the sun slanting in, and me in my dressage with
a light rug on knees only, and hair drying after ex-
cellent sitz-tub, which the sweet French maid has
just taken away, and gargon taken away the coffee-
tray. There ! . . .
Yours,
SUSAN.
To Miss Luceetia P. Hale
Nervi pees Genes, January 2^, 1897.
dear luc, — Last night, before climbing into my
steep German bed, I prepared for the occasion, by
spreading over it, besides my (new) Arab blanket
the Madchen always sees fit to make up in it, my red
bear dressage and fur cape, rejoicing in the posses-
sion of such luxuries in a tropical climate. By wind-
ing my little head-shawl round my feet, I managed
to fall asleep comfortably, and must add that the fur
cape slipped off to the floor in the night without my
minding it. The weather was on my arrival, at first,
warm and lovely, open window, sun streaming in, but
a big storm was brewing, and all yesterday the sea
was in a glorious pother, the sun all day raging
304 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
through an angry sky, making the most wonderful
peacock tints on the water, and great surf breaking
on our rocks, which everyone went out to see. Really
as fine as Atlantic storms. . . .
It 's very beautiful here, and intensely comfortable,
and I have a few friends in all languages in the
hotel, and, oh ! the joy of being by myself, I mean as
to making plans, no one to worry about, for fear she
is not happy. Then there 's no one to say, " I thought
you meant to do so and so." As for Lucca, it's no
great consequence whether I go there or not. So I 've
passed the week, getting a good rest after that Colum-
bia business, sitting in my lovely window with its sur-
passing view, mending all my clothes, and making a
digado to hide the rags of my other gown, writing up
letters (sadly behindhand), doing Italian meister-
schaft and an Italian novel, walking on the enchant-
ing spiaggia, or going to Genoa to shop. There was
a nice English girl here with her uncle, and evenings
I sate with them in the hall, where sometimes is
orchestra, and one evening was a prestidigitator, who
reminded me of Francis, only he spoke Italian and
French. These Hanburys are gone, and the only
American man is gone ; I 'm glad he 's gone, for he
made me tired, puling, and of no great account. So
now evenings I have my cafe noir sent up here,
where my nice lamp, novel, and Fooley Ann, await
me. By the way, last evening I beat twice running !
I bought a new pack of cards (French) in Algiers,
and for a long time they could not get the hang of
the game, but now they beat quite frequently, and
when they don't, I cheat.
So now I want to hark back to those last days at
Algiers, which I never quite described, and I want to
review the period before it 's forgotten. I think very
fondly of the month at Kirsch, and in fact Genoa is
gloomy in contrast with laughing Algiers. You see
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUROPE 305
Nora and I decided to go down to the town for a few
days. . . .
The rooms, deux chambres communiquantes they
gave us at VEurope were one good, one very bad, and
Nora very kindly gave me the good one. This was
bad for us both. Hers was utterly dark, only having
a window on a well, which was far from well, as the
smells were of the kitchen ; so I had to have her come
into my room for coffee, etc., etc. She had to give me
the good, on account of my superior age, of course.
In general I prefer the bad, for then there's no
grumbling, or else I can do it myself. However, my
room was enchanting, and I should have had her
there anyway, most of the time, for us to enjoy the
balcony overlooking the amusing town and harbour,
where we hoped to see our steamer coming in ; as it
happened our backs were turned just at that moment.
(Sun now shining in nice and warm; affections got
the better of rage, and clearing off fine.)
Well, we got there and settled in p. m. after a
scrimmagio of departure from Kirsch. Seems to me
I wrote you or somebody about that. Nora went out
and bought up half the town, jewels, embroidery, all
kinds of things, and I met her at the pastry-cook's,
and we had tea together, and met the Beans. I feel
now as if I did write before about all this, no matter.
On Tuesday we had a laughable expedition with
Madame Kirsch. I wrote Carry Bursley a letter
about this, which she will show to you, but not make
public. She brought her omnibus to our hotel, and
we all climbed in, Miss Homer, Mrs. Bean, Madame
herself, me, Nora, — five fat fools of middle age, and
we went to see some Spanish dancers and afterwards,
the Moorish bath. Then we went all about the Arab
town and saw houses' insides, etc. I may have said
to you that all these sights are less genuine than our
visits to Hassan's wives, and such. Here there is
306 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
always quelque chose de reclame, the things got up to
appear Arab to foreigners, and the cinquante-centime
business, or more likely vingt-francs, appears through-
out. We got back to the hotel about four, and Nora,
untiring, went out again to ransack shops. I was in
fevers from finding the Henns' cards, lest I had
missed them, and an immense bunch of violets from
Henn, and I saw before the hotel door their funny
little trap with the prancing pony. So I stirred not
from the spot till Henns returned, after a long ab-
sence from their trap, when they came in, and we
had the nicest, long, confidential talk in the entresol
salon of the hotel. They are very dear, affectionate
people, and it seems they were disappointed not to
have me staying with them. . . .
Meanwhile, Tuesday, Nora and I lunched at the
fish-shop, which is my joy and delight, and she liked
it just as much. You sit in the dark before this great
arch, and eat crevettes and fish and entrecote, with a
bottle of some wine, and outside is the blank white
wall of the mosque near the sea; but between, is a
great broad staircase, public, down and up which
goes everything, Turks, donkeys, Jews, Arabs, dogs,
women, Rag-bags, sailors of all nations. Women, sell-
ing parrots and monkeys, live on these stairs, and
below make a living tending cockles and mussels and
snails, which nobody seems ever to buy, in little
dishes. Musicians twangled and sang-led naughty
French songs, cats came out from behind boats and
ate entrails of fish, a man brought violets I bought
for a sou or so. About one o'clock we saw grand
muftis, all done up in clean turbans, with arrogant
burnouses over their shoulders, go sailing into the
mosque, so we went in on our way home, and found
the same with their shoes off, kneeling before Kaabas.
We like that, Nora and I, and, in fact, we did the
same for luncheon the next day, only sitting up-stairs
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUEOPE 307
over the arch. That day, Wednesday, we meant to
go to Point Pescade to luncheon, on the border of the
sea, where often Mrs. Chnrch and I drove, a beauti-
ful sort of Cornice drive. But our tram a vapeur
only stopped at St. Eugene, and wouldn't go any
farther. Nora was a little displeased with me for
not knowing this at my birth, but I didn't, so we
walked round a little, watching the waves, and then
got on the front of a stray bus and came back to town.
They had a small, loose lamb under our seat running
round amongst our legs. Nora bought more things
that p.m., and I got a copper jug, — either then or
previously. Now came Thursday, a day of hurry
and worry. My gown came not home from Gaze till
the last minute. Nora still wanted to do things, and
we actually were on the bus to go out and lunch once
more at Kirsch, when it came over me that I could n't
and would n't spend all that time, get tired, see all the
Kirsch folks again, after saying good-bye once, so I
broke loose, and jumped off the bus, and came back
to hotel, very luckily in time to pay Gaze, finish my
trunks, and be all calm when the steamer arrived
sooner, at one instead of three, o'clock. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretta P. Hale
Hotel Nettuno, February J±, 1897.
dear luc, — Now must tell all about my Lucca
expedition, because it was wonderful. You must
know, the evening before, i. e., Monday, I was sitting
in my red bear, playing Fooley Ann in my huge
chamber, with two tall, dim candles, when by a knock,
there was suddenly ushered in upon me a beautiful
youth, looking something like Will Chamberlin at
twenty-one, who was Francesco Maggi, come from his
308 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
mother, Signora Catemia Maggi, to say she was
afraid it was going to be cattivo tempo next day,
and what did I think about going to Lucca.
"Cecco" (she calls him) thought it much wiser not
to go if it piover-ed very much, and I fully agreed
with him, so it was settled that unless there was a de-
cided change in the weather we shouldn't start. At
least, I think that is what we said, but you can't be
always sure in a strange language. It poured as I
went to letto and I confess I prayed to all my gods
that it might continue, and so avert a difficult experi-
ence (but I 'm delighted that we could go). Tuesday
morning at the otto when Esther brought il mio
bagno with this beautiful copper jug containing the
" acqua f reddo," it was pouring ; so I did n't hurry
the coffee or anything, which came eight-fifteen. But
when I had all finished and looked out, it was just
stopping, though Pisa beloAv was still splashing
through puddles with wet umbrellas, and I thought
it would be a shame if Signora should take the trouble
to come for me, not to be ready, so I dressed wholly,
fixed money, gloves and all, then leaned again from
my window. It was ten minutes of nine, and a neat
signora in black was walking along rather fast below.
" Now if she turns the corner," I thought, " I '11 put
on my bonnet. If she goes along Lung Allio it ain't
Signora." She turned the corner, and I was pinning
on my bonnet when Signora Maggi appeared at my
door. She is a dear. She looks a little like Augusta
Hooper, the Bursley cousin, but she is gentler. Her
breeding was perfect all day, and so enduring. We
started down, discommanding my fuoco for which
the legno was just coming up-stairs, and took a
carozza for the station, and a second-class carriage
for Lucca, where two men were in uniform, that we
talked with all the way, about viaggio sul mare in
grand vapores.
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 309
It 's about three-quarters of an hour to Lucca, snow
on the green fields all along. I asked what the
alberi were, and seems they are mulberries, and
she told me all about the process, and she says it's
perfectly lovely to see the worms gobbling the leaves.
"Ain't it bellisimo?" she said, turning to the men,
" great, fat, white worms as long as your finger, they
seem to enjoy it so ! ' It was sloppy at Lucca, the
station outside the walls. We had umbrellas and my
fur cape; she had a muff. We walked briskly into
the town and to the prefettura in the Grand Ducal
Palazzo, where she had a friend. She knows all the
Fullums and police officers and George Clarkes in the
place, as well as dukes and duchesses, and if she don't,
she says, " io Maggi" and they lift up their hats.
We were waiting it seems for a friend of hers who
has an ofjizio in the prefettura, and he came down-
stairs with a great key, and unlocked the rooms (still
in Ducal Palace) of the Pinacotheka. Some interest-
ing pictures, not remarkably so. Guercino and Era
Bartolomeo, and one or two fine portraits (said to
be), by certain masters. A duchessa was copying an
ugly little picture of the Dutch School. It was the
picture of a little man with a big head, surrounded
by pots and pans, and she had made the head too big,
so it came down below the middle of the picture.
But no matter, she was a duchessa and enjoying her-
self,— a girl about twenty, I should think. There
was a portrait of Eliza Bachiochi, the sister of Na-
poleon, don't you know, he gave her the Principality
of Lucca. What cheek! She is all fine robes and a
coronet, quite different from the clothes she brought
from Ajaceio. The condottore of Institute of Belli
Arti, came and was presented to me, and showed me
pictures, as did the custodiano. Then we came out
and said good-bye to these friends, and went to the
Cathedral.
310 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
I was already enchanted with the little town,
though piles of nieve were in the streets. The
Cathedral front is very beautiful, all carved. We
went in, and within it is beautiful also, very narrow
with lofty columns. It was a feast day for the Ma-
donna or somebody, and high mass, with lots of
candles, and music going on, and oh, my dear, such
beautiful music. I have never happened to hear any
very wonderful church music. This was a full or-
chestra (besides organ) of violins, wind instruments,
led with a snap by a fine conductor, besides full
chorus of voices, and solos by a delicious tenor, as if
Jean de Keszke himself were there, a good baritone,
and a soprano I thought to be some prima donna
from opera, but it was the voce bicrnca of a boy!
We just sate down and listened, for, I should think,
two hours. I have seldom been so moved by music ;
it was passionate, emotional, though coming back to
fugues and, so to speak, " sacred " movements, to fit
the service, — it soared round the arches ; the violins
were fine, violas, — like a regular Higginson concert,
only up on the side of a cathedral. Meanwhile the
service was going on, archbishop and people in lace
night gowns bustling round the mantelpiece, rows of
priests holding candles, and little boys skurrying
about, the tea-bell ringing, and everybody kneeling
for the Host. This never impresses me at all, but
the grand music was soaring above it all. I enjoyed
it intensely.
This was rather funny: We waited after mass was
over to see the sacristan about precious objects, and
could see into the sacristy where all, thirty or forty,
the worthy priests were now taking off their little
lace-trimmed camisoles and their quilted petticoats;
each stood in front of his own high cupboard, and
was hurrying off his things and folding them up to
put away, just like Mary Hurlbut, very particular,
MATOTTUCK, NEW YORK, EUKOPE 311
each. It seemed to be which should get through first.
Then they shut their cupboards with a bang and came
out transformed into respectable, elderly gentlemen,
like Mr. E. C. Winthrop, took their umbrellas and
walked away.
I now hinted to Signora that I was beginning to
feel hungry. She nodded as if to say, "I'm with
you/' and led the way to the best restaurant in town,
where it was nice and warm with a stove (church cold
as a barn), and we had jesting about ordering the
colazione. (I paid for everything, this was arranged
by Dr. Layfield.) The garqon and Signora asked me
if I liked caccia, and caccia proved to be larks and
veccaficos, so we had them, but so small that I added
beefsteak with salad, excellent. We had soup and
risotto first. It then appeared that our train did n't
return till six-forty-five ! and here it was about one !
But the Signora had her plan; she took me to a
friend's house where there was a pretty room on a
balcony, with a bed ! ! and Signora there left me for
two hours, while she ran round town seeing her
friends. I slept like a top, and woke up wondering
where I might be, as I stared at the flower-frescoed
ceiling, jumped up, and wrote a note to Russell Sulli-
van, who had recommended Lucca, to tell him I was
delighted with it, only in despair at being torn away
from it so soon.
The Signora now took me round the town; to
Palazzo Manci, one of the most beautiful, where she
rang the bell, said " io Maggi" and we were admitted
to the picture-gallery. Chiefly Dutch pictures, and
portraits de famiglia. About five she let me get
into a legno with her, and accomplish my longing,
viz., to drive round the town up on the battlements !
You can't think how splendid it is ! There are trees,
great old sycamores, up there just like Beacon Street
Mall, only it's away up on top of the walls, which
312 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
slope down within the city all green ; the road up
there, broad for several carriages, with side-walks
under the trees and seats looking off on the mountains
and plains, or back down on the town, or across it, to
the Cathedral and other towers. Never was anything
so delightful, and, lo! the sun broke loose and set
brilliantly just as we were leaving it. It is three
miles to drive round the whole ; we had a nice driver.
We then went back to friend's house, and hugged
scaldini to our stomachs, while daughter played and
sung very well. Then, pitch dark, walked to the
stazione, and arrived here at 8 p. m. most dead, but
happy. I never talked so much Italian in my life.
More in my next.
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Naples, February 6, 1897.
deae lucretia, — It's lovely here. See? I am
fronting Vesuvius right over there. The sun re-
sumed its place of rising as at Algiers, and I have
been sitting in my sunny balcony, till the stone step
of it got rather hard, and I got rather too warm.
For it 's delightful and warm here, and I 'm in my
foulard dressage, instead of red bear. Last night
when all the little lights came out round this curve
and up the hill, I felt as if I myself were a (highly
coloured) part of one of those highly coloured pic-
tures of Naples that we Ve always been seeing from
childhood up, with Vesuvius lighted just like a cigar.
He is rather covered with clouds, but smoking away
right here. . . .
Now as Baedekers say: For Route Pisa-to-Naples
consult — Anne Bursley's last which I wrote her yes-
terday. It depicts the trajet hither, after which I
take up.
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 313
The Stazione Centrale is as far certainly as 39
Highland Street from Eastern R. R. Station. Omni-
bus took forever to get here through streets very much
like New York, only over here, there are always amaz-
ing sights, the women bare-headed ; one lady walking
along with her husband, taking his arm while he had
a large, flat basket of fruit on his head. Little donkey
moving a family, with all the furniture piled on a
great long cart, the lady of the house sitting up be-
hind, and the gentleman driving the little donkey.
Immense, great ugly wreaths of beautiful flowers
stiffly arranged, carried about by flower-venders.
Finally we came out on this long Piazza Umberto,
and I reached my room very soon. They were ex-
pecting me here, and handed out three or four letters
(from B. F. Stevens, Nora Godwin, May Davis). I
sent a messenger at once to old W. J. Turner for my
American letters, — but fully expected to wait, and
half expected some blunder would prevent his send-
ing them thus. So I had coffee in my room, and then
a warm bath in a luxurious marble receptacle, where
I could float, it was so deep, with all sorts of big and
small linge. Thence I came back and climbed into
a high and excellent bed, while a grindage played
(and is playing now) yanky (not Yankee) waltzes
below. But though tired, I was rather excited, espe-
cially as other letters kept tapping at the door, and
chiefly the one I have been in sore need of, from Carry
Weld, settling all about our meeting at Messina,
Hotel Victoria, February 14, to go at once to Taor-
mina, the loveliest spot on earth. So now I have only
to keep very calm and stay on here till it 's time to
cross 'twixt " Scilly and Charib ' ' to Messina. Why
I am here is that it seemed the best headquarters for
letters, and in case of doubt, C. Weld was most likely
to write me here, or be here herself.
So at 10 a. m. I came out of bed and began to dress,
314 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
when tap again at the door, little smiling messenger
boy from Turner with great bunch of sixteen letters
from America, besides a New England magazine from
Papa. Imagine me settling in excellent arm-chair
in the sun, alongside of Vesuvius, and going through
the whole batch. Such nice ones, — and you know,
I ?ve been all this time sort of out in the wilderness.
I now felt warmed and clothed about with civilisa-
tion, and indeed affection; coming to this great city
hotel is the way I feel when I finally abandon Matu-
nuck and my farouche solitude, and come up at mid-
night to Thorndike, a good, warm room, electric, a
milk punch, good bed, and above all, letters from you
and other constituents. So now I sate and read and
read. It took an hour to read them through the first
time. . . .
I was perfectly sure coming to this perfectly re-
spectable house that somebody I knew would be here,
and as I had seen no soul I ever saw before since part-
ing from Nora Godwin, and had talked nothing but
haythen languages, I was quite ripe to drop into the
arms of the first American. As in Fooley Ann, you
wonder what card near the bottom of the thirteen it
will be to come to the rescue and win the game, so at
one, time for lunch, as I entered the great big sala,
open to the top of the hotel, glassed over there, big
palms growing in it, where folks read their news-
papers and take coffee at little marble tables, I won-
dered who it would be: — Ernest Longfellow and
Mrs., sitting there, waiting for luncheon. This was
a very nice card. They are delighted to see me,
rather bored by themselves, and as we are always
meeting in strange countries, quite natural. They at
once had me put with them at the table, and invited
me to their charming parlour. I feel most respectable
under their wing, and, indeed, I like them much. . . .
I don't mean to go up Pompeii or down Vesuvius
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUEOPE 315
or any of those things. Amalfi is lovely, and the
Longfellows are the priests thereof, but I think I
stay right here, write my letters, look out of window,
go to see all the Pompeii things in the Museo right
here, and enjoy the luxuries of first-class living at
three dollars a day, — 't is but a week, and then, ho !
for Messina. I am quite reconciled to the Sicily
plan. Carry Weld is so cordial, and so longing to see
me. After that I shall just go on to Cannes and see
my nice people at Hotel de la Plage. They have
written me, — I mean the gentlemanly proprietor
and his wife, who love me, and urge me to do so.
Then Paris for a week, then London, Stevens' for a
week, and then home to arrive about the middle of
May. Just laying out the plan makes it seem as
if it were over already ! So no more now.
Yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Cannes, March %4, 1897.
Such a delicious drive, and you with me (un-
awares) through country roads, and every tree just
flushed with sheen, the first minute of real spring-
time, poplars and willows and oaks and sycamores
and maples with hanging things, and ladies stepping
out of green fields with great bunches of red flowers,
yellow flowers, blue, purple, white flowers, and a
river with clear water sparkling over stones, and the
earth smelling newly ploughed, and the lawn-cutters
making hay smells, and the Golf Club, and caddies
caddying and putters puttering and toads toadying
and Dukes and Princes and Counts counting, and the
Grand Duke of Russia and sa femme in a carriage,
and the blue sea sparkling, and the Jardin Publique
with music, and little boys drawn in carts, and
donkeys with side-saddles, and English women hold-
316 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
ing up their petticoats to the skin, and fish shining in
the fish-markets, and small boats everywhere, and
Britannia ruling the waves. Hurry up and come
before it is all gone by.
Yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
and
Miss M. L. Goddaed
Cannes, Tuesday, March 31, 1897.
An Adventure
My dears, I am all entirely and completely packed,
my trunk is locked, my strap is rolled, only the little
Angel is yawning to receive these writing materials
when I am done, and there's lots of time. No en-
trecbte a la Caroline et Bearnaise this time, but the
ordinary lunch of commerce, — and off in the bus to
the train.
Now you see, yesterday we had engaged Lambert
for the day. Lambert 's the beautiful, who looks and
is exactly like Charley Longfellow, viewed from the
marine side of him, and would he not have been hap-
pier, the real old Charles (?) if he had earned his liv-
ing sailing round this bay in the best boat of all, and
winning every prize for fast sailing, as he did last
Sunday, for the Alsace and Lorraine, his nice, neat,
pretty boat, that goes like the wind. These boats
have two masts, Louisa, a large sail, and a small one
on the after-mast. They have comfortable seats and
neat cushions in the standing room, and crickets for
feet.
So not much after eight, as I was finishing my
coffee, Lambert came to the bedroom door to know
if ces dames intended to go. I suggested it was
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUKOPE 317
raining at the moment, but he said it was " un grain
seulement" and, lo ! the boat was already before my
window, bobbing up and down, with the American
flag, in my honour, floating from the mast. I may as
well tell you that this boat proved to be the Ville de
Londres, and this Lambert, the brother of Charles
Longfellow, on account of Lambert's great preoccupa-
tions in connection with winning the prize the day
before; but Lambert's brother is almost as beautiful
as Lambert. So by and by Mrs. Brahani got through
her coffee and came down, and all the household took
our wraps or came to the door, and Mr. and Mrs.
Thompson waved from their window, and we crossed
the boulevard to the beach, and walked across a plank
to the Ville de Londres. Did I tell you about Mrs.
Brahani? She is a most excellent, stout, little Eng-
lish lady from Streatham. I take her along with me
on these drives and sails, for she perfectly delights in
them, helps the paying part, and is a worthy agree-
able companion, very well bred, an immense prattler,
but quite intelligent.
The day began to be beautiful, such blue sky and
fleecy clouds, and though he had to row at first, the
wind soon sprang up and we were clipping along,
with one rail down, and the waves bumping against
the prow. I always sit up in the bow against the fore-
mast, and little Mrs. Braham was planted at the
stern, her short legs firmly clinging to a footstool, and
perfectly happy. I can't tell you how beautiful the
receding town is, with its hills at the back and pretty
villas, and soon les Alpes mafitimes rising in the
background, snow-covered and shining in the sun.
We sailed past Isle St. Marguerite and soon came
along to St. Honorat; already they had reefed the
mainsail and taken in a small one, and we rushed
along on the outward tack like mad, then went about
and anchored in the sweetest haven, deep emerald
318 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
water amongst rocks, on a shore all pine trees, car-
peted with brown pine needles, a small cabaret, the
only house, and little tables set out with benches
before it, under the trees and close to the sparkling
water. Great big splendid parasol pines, there are.
So while our lunch was preparing, Mrs. Braham
and I walked all round the island, under the pines,
to an old castle there is, where Francis I was impris-
oned a while after Pavia, and along to the grounds of
a monastery, where old monks make (and drink) a
kind of Chartreuse; and through their fields, rather
neglected, but all the better for poppies and calen-
dulas and dandelions and borage; and when we got
back the lunch was ready, and we ate our beloved
oysters, and a very good chop, and pommes, with a
bottle of Sauterne, all out under the great pines, and
the hens came and ate the fragments. It was per-
fectly beautiful on account of sparkling whitecaps
on the crests of the intensely peacock waves, and this
was because the wind, my dears, was rising, and this
is where the adventure part begins.
Well, just then came along Lambert, his black eyes
very big, and said that this was a mistral that was
blowing, and getting stronger every moment, and that
it would be impossible to leave the island then (as
intended), and that we must wait and see, — if ces
dames would forgive him, as it really wasn't his
fault. So these dames were very amiable, and found
a sheltered place to sit and watch the proceedings.
The house wasn't appetising, and Lambert and his
friends were playing backgammon inside in the chief
room, but we found a pile of bricks, or rather tiles,
waiting to be a roof, which made a fairly comfortable
sofa, and perfect shelter from the wind, and there we
sate and prattled and watched the glorious waves in
the narrow channel. After a time I stirred about, and
confess was a bit disturbed to perceive that the Ville
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 319
de Londres was gone, no sign of her at her moorings,
but Mrs. Braham took it comfortably, and prattled
away, and pretty soon Lambert appeared from a re-
mote part of the island and. said they had been obliged
to mettre the boat a terre. I thought if it had actu-
ally come to burying the boat in the ground, things
were getting pretty bad; he said there was no hope
to return in the boat that night ! but that the vapeur
which runs daily from Cannes, on excursions, was
due at two, and that ces dames had better go back in
the vapeur, and moreover, in case the vapeur didn't
come out, as was quite possible, in such a tempest, he
had already engaged two lits for these dames at the
cabaret, the only ones there were. This was all rather
startling, especially as it was now three and no signs
of the vapeur. Half a dozen excursionists (pic-
nickers) turned up, and began to stroll round in an
anxious manner, looking towards the mainland,
where was no sign of a vapeur, or anything else, for
that matter. I suggested to Mrs. Braham that as we
had the two lits we should go and lie on them for a
while, — but it seemed they were not prepared and
could n't be till night, which augured ill for their ex-
cellence. However, we settled down on our brick
sofa again with great cheerfulness. Mrs. B. was a
dandy, she didn't fuss nor worry nor wonder what
would happen, but prattled away in a pleasing man-
ner, while I dozed. Now came along Lambert say-
ing that they thought they could get the boat to the
Golfe Inan, and that if these dames like to risk it
they could go, too, and take the train there back to
Cannes. This was something like sailing for New
Bedford from Nahant, when your home is in New-
buryport, — still you know there is a train from New
Bedford. The wind, he said, would be favourable
for Golfe Inan, whereas hopeless to tack in the teeth
of it, to Cannes. " But can you take the boat out of
320 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
the ground?" "Oh, yes, madame, toute de suite"
He now said that two other dames were very anxious
about getting back, they came in the vapeur, and it
might not arrive, so did I mind if they came along
with us ? " Not at all, I '11 go and ask them," said I,
and here comes the excellent episode of the English.
I went up to rather a nice-looking gentlewoman.
"Vous etes Frangaisef '" "Non, je suis Anglaise."
" Alors" said I, "we will speak English. I have
my boat here and we are going back in it, to Golfe
Inan, to take the train to Cannes. We should be glad
to have you come, too, if you like." "Euogh, but
you know we came in the steamer." " Yes, I know,
but the steamer is now overdue, and no signs of it,
and there seems a chance of having to spend the night
here, which would n't be very pleasant." " Euogh,
reely, but where did you come from ? " she said. " I
came from Cannes," said I, rather coolly, for I was
getting tired of this. "Did you, really, but I did
not see you on the steamer." " No," said I, " because
I came in my own boat, with this man, and we are
waiting to know if you would like to go back with
us." " I should n't think of doing such a thing with-
out consulting my friend," said she, and without a
word of thanks turned on her heel and walked off. I
was madder than thunder. " Come along, Lambert,"
said I, and we hurried to the remote place where the
boat was, picking up Mrs. Braham, to whom I related
the rudeness of her countrywoman. She was much
more enraged than I was.
The boat was in a snug little cove, its sails neatly
folded, but our two men with a friend had her out in
a trice, and we were just stepping on board, when
along came the English women, two of them, with
their man. They came up and without a word to us
began bargaining with Lambert. " Combiang de
tong faut-il pour aller au terre?y) said the man, very
MATUNUCK, NEW YORK, EUROPE 321
rudely, as to a menial. " Tine demie heure" said
Lambert. "But can you guarantee that there's no
risk ? " the man began ; I stepped into the boat, " Par-
tons, Lambert, nous navons pas de temps a perdre"
and in a flash we were off, the sails shaken out, and
going like a shot toward the land, leaving the three
English gawping on the rocks.
Mrs. Braham haughtily settled herself in her
wrap, glancing up at the English, "You'd much
better wait for your steamer ; I dare say it will pick
you up by and by," in the most patronising manner.
Set an English to snub an English. As we sailed
away, Mrs. B. remarked, "Nasty things, I hope
they '11 be drowned."
But as for us, we flew, and under the lee of St.
Marguerite's had none too much wind, and when we
came near Golfe Inan it proved that after all we
could face the breeze and sail all along the bay to our
own port, which we reached in perfect safety about
five, just as the sky was setting to work on a glorious
red sunset. To Mrs. Braham's regret, we saw the
little tug on its way to the island, long after we got
back to our comfortable rooms and pretty windows;
we saw the little vapeur labouring painfully with the
waves, and the English, no doubt, into port.
Meanwhile, everybody here had been watching the
mistral, which made everything fly on land, — dust,
brickbats; and when we came back, gargons and por-
ters hastened to meet us to know our adventures.
We were most lucky in having landed on the island
before the blow began, for as it happened, nothing
really happened, and we were quits, with a little bit
of a scare. But I laugh whenever I think of those
English, and of Mrs. Braham's disgust at 'em. . . .
Always yours,
Susie.
322 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Paris, France, April 11, 1897.
Oh! my dears, how nice to get your letter this
morning just when I was whetting my pen to write
to you, and now you are in Nice, which saves ten
centimes on the postage ; but, alas ! after this I shall
be diminishing in the distance, and these delightful
letters won't be half so good to write or read. But
you try to keep it up a little, won't you ? and I will
write voluminously from the briny deep. All you
say is most interesting. Our weather the same here,
viz., horrid for a day or two, sloppy, rainy, raw, cold,
but now it 's turned good, I do believe, and excellent
to run about in. Marronniers all green with buds
about to burst, and lilacs in all the stalls, and yellow
flowers. Oh ! Paris is enchanting, it goes straight
to my head, and I wish I could be here a month. . . .
There was a note from Mrs. Greene, by which I
went on Wednesday to see the dear lady. She is
white, diaphanous, like a pale leaf quivering to go,
slightly deaf, but most lovely. There was a horrid
woman there boring her about the Pope and young
American women, and wanting money, who, the more
she saw we wanted to be alone, went on the more
about the Pope, but we had a nice talk all the same,
and I am going again to-day at three. She is im-
mensely interested in my trip with you. She says
she is eighty-one. . . ,
Yours,
Susie.
MATUNUCK, NEW YOKK, EUROPE 323
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
and
Miss Mary E. Williams
Sttrbiton, Easter Sunday, April 18, 1897.
MY DEAR GIRLS, MAMIE AND CARLA, I Was OD. the
edge of writing you, and in comes Mamie's " splahn-
did " letter of April 8, so I will direct this to her, for
you two were in my mind so much in Paris ! I was
nearly crazy, and kept asking myself why I had
wasted a minute elsewhere. Let's go and live in
Paris. I long to hire a small apartment, throw in a
few meubles, such fun to buy them, then keep house,
run out and buy a nice duck, some green peas, fat
strawberries, and a little cream cheese, and a bunch of
wall-flowers. What more could one ask ! Oh ! it was
just lovely. We were at rue de Beaune, No. 5, —
" we " was Nora Godwin, who came up to Paris with
me. She is a funny companion for me, for she is
by the way of being gloomy, at times, and that bores
me, because I am so ridiculously cheerful, which
bores her. However, we get on finely, and it ?s a con-
venience to be with somebody, and we were perfectly
independent of each other.
There was the river, whenever we came out of our
little street, and the Pont Royal just opposite, and
horses trot-trot, and great omnibuses, and bateaux
mouches shooting under, and Paris men with tall
hats and canes and pointed toes, and women in felt
slippers holding up their petticoats to the arm-pits,
and little boys going to school, — it made me wild.
Of course, I went to see dear Mrs. Greene, and twice
walked back all the way through Champs Elysees, the
horse-chestnut trees in full leaf, and the blossoms
about to come out. It was horse-show, and the Rond
Point chockful of waiting carriages and staring
324 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
crowds and footmen wading in tall boots and buttons,
and grandes dames with flaring bats piled high with
flowers, fruit, and game, and four-in-hands with
outriders.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Surbiton, April 26, 1897.
(8 a.m. In bed.)
dearest of Carolines, — Now this is really my
last will and testament before leaving this side the
Atlantic, for I shall be on my legs every mortal in-
stant minute from now till I start on Thursday. I
have your good letter of Easter Sunday. It disgusts
me to have you in those places without me. Perhaps
to-day you are starting on your drive. I wish Kumpf
would take me more seriously. Why should she
laugh at the mere back of a letter from me ? How-
ever, I think of her with the greatest affection, and
so you may say.
Oh, heavens ! the things I have done and seen here.
I would that my pen could utter the thoughts that
arise in me. Chief of all was our great expedition
to Winchester, which dear old B. F. Stevens (here
comes my breakfast, but, by the way, my cold is
about well, and I am in fine condition, only it's the
custom of the country to wallow mornings) contrived
for me. We went to Salisbury by train, and then
drove in open carriage nearly all the way to Winches-
ter, through such lanes! The party was six of us,
two parsons, English, loaded to the muzzle with
archeology, two stray Vermonters, with B. F. Stevens
and myself, all but me men, and smoking incessantly.
We stopped every mile or two to see an old church or
something, and my head is still full of early perpen-
dicular and tumble-down Norman, not to speak of
Elizabethan and Jacobean and Gothic and reredoses
MATUNUCK, MW YORK, EUROPE 325
and chantries and sepulchres and saints. Those old
churches are wonderfully interesting, but what I
really and truly delight in is the hedgerows all full
of primroses with violets alongside of 'em, blackthorn
all in blossom, full of blackbirds, turf so thick your
foot sinks in it, holly hedges with the berries still on,
and around each Cathedral its beautiful grounds
with immense great trees, all a sheen of promise just
now, and that soft veil of English atmosphere between
everything, so to speak. The weather was perfect,
just like English water-colours, fluffy white clouds
with chunks of blue between. It 's Constable's coun-
try, you know, and everything looked like his pic-
tures, which I had just been seeing over again, in the
National Gallery. We stopped for tea and bread and
butter at old inns with swinging signs; lunched at
" the Angel " and " took our doles " of beer and bread
at the gateway of St. Cross Hospital, where it has
been dispensed daily since the year 1 b. c. The top
of every hill is a Roman camp; King Alfred wrote
the ten commandments in the ruins of Wolvesey, now
a mass of wall-flowers and walls. Everything that
Henry VIII spared was destroyed by Cromwell,
and Dean Kitchen has written up the whole business.
You see my little head has got somewhat mixed, and
I laugh whenever I think of the condition of Stone,
a callow youth that went with us, from St. Johnsbury,
Vermont, his first outing away from his Ma. He
sailed next day for America on the Saint Paul, and
he thinks he is going to " write this up " for the " St.
Johnsbury Caledonian" Ha! ha! By the way,
Jane Austen, novelist, died at Winchester. I saw her
house. The present Dean, a dear man with his legs
all buttoned up in reverential gaiters, invited us to
come and see his stable, which is where the pilgrims
of " Canterbury Tales " used to stop.
We put up for the night at " The George," Winches-
326 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
ter, an excellent hotel, with electric and all modern
comforts engrafted on the old place, which keeps
great old fireplace we conld sit in, and the old gal-
leries from Shakespeare's time; the bed I slept in
three miles square, or thereabouts. My, but it was
good after all that standing round.
This is but a small pattern of the things I 've been
doing, amongst others running round Regent Street
and spending my last guinea on a nice little cape at
Scott Adies (not half so big as Louisa's), acquiring
the English language, and learning to drop my
Haitch (H.). B. E. Stevens is a most dear man; if
you are in London, make his acquaintance and order
your books of him, 4 Trafalgar Square.
Last evening in the long twilight we strolled along
the Thames toward Hampton Court, oh, so pretty.
I 've got a great cabin all to myself, on Mobile, with
two port-holes, very likely open all the way, — and
expect a good voyage, for which I am laying in books,
sewing, and writing materials ; — to reach N. Y.
May 10. I shall think of you lying off at Bellagio,
but don't neglect to mend your catarrh at Ems, or
somewhere, and come home, dear, in the fall. I
shall continue to write, but it won't be the same
thing. . . . Lots of love to both from
Susie.
CHAPTEK X
BOSTON, NEW YOKK, CALIFORNIA,
MADEIRA, MATUNUCK
(1898-1902)
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 19, 1897.
... I had to go to town on account of my cele-
brated back-tooth, which has been a source of income
to dentists since 1833. It finally broke off and came
out one day lately, and I repaired to Piper to have
it repaired. He got into my mouth along with a pick-
axe and telescope, battering-ram and other instru-
ments, and drove a lawn-cutting machine up and
down my jaws for a couple of hours. When he came
out he said he meant wonderful improvements, and
it seems I 'm to have a bridge and a mill-wheel and
summit and crown of gold, and harps, and Lord
knows what, better than new. After this, and to
comfort me for not being able to bite anything but
the inside of my cheek, George took me to Hoyt's
" Black Sheep," of which the scene is a bar-room in
Tombstone, Arizona, and coming home, we went
through the new Touraine, Young's Hotel, on the
corner (opposite Pelham), which was all blown up
last year, you know. It is perfectly gorgeous.
Kings don't know what they are talking about when
they speak of living in palaces. This is really beau-
tifully furnished, you pass from Louis Quatorze to
Elizabeth Rococo, all hung with Ambuson and Or-
328 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
mola. There is a great library with real books bound
in calf, and make-believe old gentlemen sitting read-
ing in them. Then we took a compass to Park Street
and came home through the Subway. Lord ! such a
wonder. Broad steps lead down to the bowels of the
burying-ground, but there it is all white and brilliant
and spotless clean ; a wind sweeps through the chasm,
and open cars and shut cars, Brookline cars and Res-
ervoir, shoot to and fro ; you spring on, and with one
dash whirl through an avenue of sparkling lights to
the feet of Charles Sumner, where you are once more
unearthed, and all for five cents, in three minutes.
'T is wonderful ; methinks my father's hair would
stand on end to see the sight.
All the women were haggard in waterproofs with
bags, running in and out of Jordan and Marsh when
I woke up the next morning. I bought two linen
collars, and tried on a black silk gown Bolger is mak-
ing, and came away.
I was glad to get back here, and to my little flock
and my cold lamb. But must go to-morrow to finish
the tooth works. My mind turns me now to clothes,
for I have been so long living in shirt-waists, I feel
as if I might break in two at the body-line like a
wasp. I long for a whole garment in one piece.
Little we reck here of the outside world, so look ye
for gossip to your other correspondents. Now here
endeth the first lesson, for 1 've a chance to mail this,
by my gilt-edged ladies going to church. So bless
you every one. This may reach you at Prague or
Vienna. My! can't I get into the envelope myself?
Write, write.
Youb loving Susie.
BOSTON", NEW YOBK, CALIFORNIA 329
To Mrs William G. Weld
Hotel Thorndike again, January 16, 1898.
dearest Caroline, — Since I was here before, in
various cities I have seen the following plays at differ-
ent theatres : " Never again/' " Idol's eye," " Belle
of New York," " Girl from Paris." Thev are all
mixed up in my mind as one great mush of legs, jokes,
songs, and falling up-stairs. The most important
personage in any one of these plays, — General,
Grandfather, Priest, Judge, Pope, or Father-in-law,
must be able to turn a double somerset at a moment's
notice. In the last, four red girls and four golf-
rigged boys danced a sort of fandango, which ended
by the boys doing leap-frog over the girls, after which
they all rolled in somersets to the front of the stage,
— a cloud of white petticoats and black stockings.
Such is the state of culture at this end of the nine-
teenth century, as far as stage requirements go. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
2 East 35th Street, New York,
January 21, 1898.
dear lucretia, — Things have begun in a lively
manner, so there's scarcely a minute to write, but I
will scrabble a few remarks before getting ready to
drive in the park with Mr. Goddard. It poured
in sheets all yesterday, but to-day is sunny and
lovely. . . .
Francis called for me at six-thirty, my dear, in a
horseless carriage, they are quite common here now,
and no dearer than a cab (75 cents for us both).
They look, — well, I can't make a picture, for I
haven't seen them enough, but you sit like a han-
330 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
som, looking out into space with no dasher, nor reins,
nor tail, nor legs, nor any other part of a horse, in
front, and a seen-less man behind gets along some-
how — rubber tires, noiseless springs, the thing glides
along avoiding teams and everything. It 's glorious.
We dined at " The Arena," a sort of foreign restau-
rant, then saw Coghlan in a beautiful play, "Royal
Box " ; I enjoyed it immensely, the first straight
piece of acting I have seen all winter — or last, for
that matter. Coghlan is apt to be drunk, but last
night he was perfectly sober, at his best, very hand-
some, and I think the finest actor going. So that's
my events, beyond lots of talk with my hosts, —
some Fooley Ann, — and good sleep in a great big
bed. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
8 Meeting Street, Charleston, South
Carolina, February 1%, 1898.
73 ° in the shade 9 o'clock a. m.
Now, my dears, you shall have this letter to-day,
whatever befalls. It must be a thousand years since
I wrote. And do you know that a year ago to-day
I crossed from Naples to Messina, and spent the
night in the meat-market, so to speak, for my room
in that hole (I mean hotel) was right over the shop.
And then Sunday you didn't come, and then Mon-
day!! you stood in the doorway of my room. What
a shriek there was ! 'T is but a step from the sublime
to the ridiculous, and here I am sitting by myself
in another strange place, but no door will open for
you and Kumpf and Louisa to come in.
I couldn't stand it any longer up there north.
Very amusing, but so much gadding was wearing me
out no place could I hide where my secret sin, to
BOSTON", NEW YOEK, CALIFORNIA 331
wit: teas, dinners, theatres, lunches, didn't find me
out. New York was the most delightful and most
fatiguing of all. About these times nice nephew
Arthur put Charleston into my head, and made it
easy for me to come here. He knows people here,
and they found this excellent boarding-house for me.
You may say, " Why Charleston ? ' but then I shall
say, " Why not ? ' You see it 's easy to get here, and
its warm (enough and not too warm), and it's a city
with comforts and conveniences, and it isn't one of
those everlasting pine-y places, full of consumptives
and sand. Best of all, I don't know anybody here,
so they will let me alone. I have, to be sure, some
letters, and people have been written to about me, but
I mean not to poke 'em up till I 've got thoroughly
rested. Meantime I 'm treating the place like a for-
eign resort, going round quite by myself to see " the
points of interest." It's a pathetic ruin of a once
brilliant town, dilapidated, squalid, rattled with
earthquakes, torpid with the departure of business,
overrun with donkeys, grass growing in deserted
streets, — but some of these things make it interest-
ing. It 's a network of trolley-cars, and I can jump
into one of them and ride around and around for
hours. When you get far enough out, the long, flat
land and clumps of live-oaks, and sere meadows, in
this soft southern atmosphere are very beautiful, and
the odours of pine and sweet bay are enrapturing.
My house is close on the Battery, so I see the
sparkling water through trees and a sort of park,
and the sun shines in, and there 's a pretty garden
with all the things we (you) have in Algiers and
Riviera, that is laurustinas, violet beds, ivy, roses,
just coming along. I don't see any mimosa, which
I do hope you are enjoying somewhere this instant
minute, with its floods of yellow sunshine. Anyhow
I am thoroughly enjoying it, and when I get tired
332 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
and "lontsome" I shall just git up and git, back to
excellent old Boston, where they had a blizzard the
other day, and killed all the horses with live wires,
and I 'm told Providence is still three feet deep in
snow. But now let me search my past career and
pick some crumbs of incident to enliven you. . . .
Meanwhile, my nice young folks were good to me
in Boston. We had a little dinner at Thorndike,
and then went to "Keith's." It used to be the
"Bijou," I believe; there is an entrance on Tremont
Street, very gaudy, and going in that way you de-
scend into the bowels of the earth and walk along
a great looking-glass passage where, like that Algiers
restaurant, yourself is going along on its head on top
of you, all bedecked with gold and glitters, finally
coming out into the theatre. Then after the per-
formance we went to the new Touraine which has
a " kneipe " underground, where the men smoke, and
a German band plays, while we eat broiled live lob-
ster and drink beer in stone, with German carvings
and mottoes all round, and the electric lights coming
out of the stags' horns. And when we emerged it
was through a tunnel and up a "lift," which landed
us in the front entry, on Boylston Street, of the
Touraine. In fact, all Boston is getting to be one
great subway; and you can go from Thorndike to
the Music Hall without wetting your feet, where, by
the way, I saw some stereopticon views of Corsica,
very beautiful, slightly tinted, which made me long
to be there again. Can't you manage to get over
there from Nice? It's not very bad crossing, only
twelve hours.
I bade good-bye to Katharine Bowditch, who is
off with all her family and outriders to Italy for the
summer, perhaps they will get to Sicily. And I met
great, big, faithful Sam Johnson, who jumped into
a car, but as I was jumping out directly after,
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 333
amazement sate on him and he sate on a woman who
was there, and no explanations could be given or re-
quired. I saw a great quantity of Hales and Burs-
leys, and my Katy, and sich like. Oh, the Union
Club, you know, has a department for ladies, to wit
the old Mayflower rooms in the Quincy House. It
is beautifully done over by the Union Club, and much
more charming for a meal than our Mayflower. I
lunched there several times. They have a chef and
good food. The Thorndike also has a chef from
Delmonico's, and all the chops have little tufts on
top of them, and layers of peppers beneath. You
would n't know a lamb if you met him, so disguised,
but the result is good. Old Miss C. D. is there, more
like Queen Victoria than ever, but it's rather safer
not to let her see you, for she holds faster than the
flea.
Now from all this anguish and these delights I
came away to my Goddards in New York. New
York was reeking with pictures. All the Fortunys
at the Stewart sale. I spent hours there tAvice. You
must have seen (N. Y. Herald) some account of the
auction. That little " Choice of the Model " is an
enchanting picture. Now you must know that Ma-
drazo, Boldini, Gandara are all three of them in New
York in the flesh (very much in the flesh), getting
$6,000 apiece for fashionable portraits, and thus
picking the bones of all American painters. It must
have been fun for Madrazo (he was at the auction)
to hear his " Guitar Girl " run up to $16,500. _ Their
portraits are on exhibition at different galleries. I
saw them all. At Gandara's, there stood George
Haynes as large as life, painted in hat and frockcoat,
gloves and cane. He looked very beautiful, and it
must make him sleep finely o' nights, to be seen thus
attired on 5th Avenue. And, oh ! I rode in a horse-
less carriage — it's a dream of locomotion. I had
334 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
a lovely dinner at Fanny Mali's, — sate between
W. R. Ware and Judge Howland, both most agree-
able, and most fond of me. W. R. is all turned grey,
and looks like Dr. Lothrop! Saw Susan Day; she
is full of dissipations, asked me to her box at Wal-
dorf Astoria concert, and to dine at Delmonico's. I
lunched at Delmonico's with Susan Travers. I saw
a lot of Nora Godwin, lunches, teas, German theatre,
and her most entertaining old Pa. Only ten days in
N. Y., and all these tilings, aye more, befell me, until
at last the flesh gave a yell, and I wrote Arthur to
take me away. Now that 's enough for onct.
Yours,
Susie.
To Mes. William G. Weld
39 Highland Street, Roxbury,
March W, 1898.
. . . Charleston is a dear, sleepy, picturesque old
town, and the whole experience was most amusing,
but I don't feel like telling you about that any more,
so I hasten to my return, and stopping in Washing-
ton for three
Glorious Days
because I was just in the thick of the war excitement.
Papa Edward E. was in town, and a great man, and
I was with him in the Senate Gallery, when the
$5000000000000000000000000000000000 was ap-
propriated. It was dignified and fine, and I was
proud of my country, and you know we are tremen-
dously patriotic now, and the lion and the lamb lying
down together paying for warships, and Lord knows
what may come of it, and the Senate adjourned im-
mediately after, in order that the pick of the Senators
might come to luncheon with Senator Hoar in his
Judiciary Committee Room to meet Edward E. and
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 335
Miss Susan Hale. These men were just like pleased
schoolboys, or Harvard men, after the ball game has
gone right for us. The air was all full of enthusiasm
and even gaiety. Vice-President Hobart was there
(the President of the Senate, and a fine man) , Allison,
Wolcott, Chandler, Cabot Lodge, about ten of 'em, and
Governor Hawley of Connecticut, and Dyer of Rhode
Island, the latter in Washington to get them to for-
tify Canonicut for the defence of our coast. Stirring
times ! Well, after lunch, which was brief, only ter-
rapin and the like, for these schoolboys had to run
back to their tasks, Young, the librarian, took us.
Pa and me, all over the new Congressional Library,
which is a superb building, and as he is an enthusiast,
and Pa, a scholar, he hawked us all over everything,
up-stairs and down-stairs, through halls full of fres-
coes, and crypts full of old pamphlets, and rotundas
with people reading, and little carriages for books,
on wheels, shooting up and down chimneys, from
garret to cellar, and round and round circular stair-
cases, breaking our legs, and breaking our necks look-
ing at ceilings, and looking out of lofty windows over
all Washington, till we were well nigh dead. Then
there was a great reception for Papa, where I saw an
immense amount of people known or unknown (for I
was in the newspapers by this time) , and then I came
away in a blaze of glory. . . .
Will Everett is giving delicious Lowell lectures on
certain poets. I only came in time for "Byron";
oh! so admirable, with charming extracts. He
spouted " The Assyrian came down," with his true
old fire, too ranting, perhaps, but full of expression.
The audiences are jammed. . . . Write.
Yours,
Susie.
336 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, April 20, 1898.
dear luc, — Having a splendid time condensing
" Sir Charles Grandison " to thirty pages, for my
book. It is lovely to-day, but pretty cold with sharp
wind, so that it's only 55° in the snnny porch. I
pile on the logs, and scratch away. We have break-
fast now at six-thirty ! ! So I get to " my pen " be-
fore seven, and have done twelve pages since. I hated
to have Lucy go, and Mister Browning " was in hopes
she'd stay threw the summer." Saturday and Sun-
day were lovely days, and Sunday p. m. we were bask-
ing in the porch, warm as summer, when Mr. Turner
arrived and stayed to tea, very gallant.
Last evening the sunset was of the finest. I was
up at my rock. The west all golden with golden
clouds, and over the salt ponds, a superb parade of
torn clouds in lavender and rose tints. I keep for-
getting to tell you how the sun (when there is any),
like this morning, pours into my Fullum's about
five o'clock.
Always yours,
Susie.
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 22, 1898.
dear lucretia, — ... Yesterday was quite mul-
tifarious, so I will give you the account of it. It
began peacefully, and when Phil, and Sully were safe
at work, and the house calm, I slipped off to walk
up to my farm. It was lovely, the red roses growing
just like blackberry bushes all over the place, and
I got an immense handful. Came down through
Miss Abby Tucker's place deserted, as she was to
Wakefield selling eggs, and came across to Hannah's
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 337
cart-track to come over between the ponds. It had
rained in the night, and squeezing through the drip-
ping woods, I had got so wet that when I came to
the crossing between the ponds, I didn't hesitate to
turn up all my petticoats in a sort of pouch to hold
my flowers, leaving the other hand free to clutch
branches, and thus proceeded, in my shoes and stock-
ings, to wade across the flood, which was well above
my garters, for the ponds are both so full now, the
water is smooth across and quite deep. As I was
halfway over I perceived hard by a man in a boat fish-
ing. "Hallo, Jerry! I'd have asked you to put
me across, if I 'd seen you ! " He discreetly averted
his eyes, and kept his back towards me, saying : " I '11
row you down home if you want." " Oh, no," said
I, " I ?m so wet now I may as well go on," and so I
did. It's tremendously grown up on this side, and
I got still wetter from the wet bushes, so I was a
fine sight as I came up the back stairs at twelve-thirty.
I had just time to cast my skin and get ready for
dinner, when from the head of front stairs, I per-
ceived an arrival, an unknown young man, getting
out with his shirt-case and artist-weapons, — viz.,
Howard Cushing, whom Phil, and I had vaguely
asked over from Newport to sketch. He is a dear
fellow, very handsome, twenty-five years of age, son
of Robert, and remembers acting with me in the
" Rose and the Ring," seventeen years ago, when he
was a little boy. We love to have him here, and he
is out now with Phil, and Sully sketching, which
he came for, having studied in Paris, and already an
artist of some repute. Luckily (as always) an ex-
cellent dinner soon steamed on the table, — roast beef,
salad, cream-pie. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
338 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Matunuck;, Rhode Island, June %7, 1898.
dear lucretia, — ... It seems really a pity to
have so few folks here, for the weather is perfect, the
household running like clock-work, Nora, the cook,
delightful, with lots of puddings in her eye; and
splendid things to eat, — broiling chickens, fresh
lamb, strawberries in profusion, thick cream, and
lobsters yesterday for the first time. . . .
I must tell you of our little chippy sparrows that
had their nest in the trellis by the front door. Their
young, happily, are abroad now, but Ma and Pa
Sparrow hang round as tame as tame, coming regu-
larly to afternoon-tea for crumbs of cookie. Yester-
day at the moment Mary set the table down on the
piazza, the two alighted hard by, with a jounce, quite
unalarmed; they open their little throats and sing,
as if to join in the usual p. m. tea-talk. We think
cookie must be very unwholesome for them, a very
singular form of worm, but it's astonishing how
much they tuck away in their small crops. Our
robins cover the lawn, and to-clay the bobwhites are
singing there. Behind the dog-house there is a war-
ren of somebody, we might call them the " Somebody
Warrens," four small animals with bushy tails and
a mother, that nobody knows. When I describe them
as woodchucks, everybody says, " Oh, no, they can't
be woodchucks " ; if I take to calling them squirrels
they say, " Of course, they ain't squirrels." I suggest
muskrats, — " Oh, muskrats have flat tails." As no-
body has seen them but Nelly Ryan and me, we feel
we ought to know how they look, but we are told it 's
impossible they should have bushy tails and not be
squirrels. . . .
Yours,
Sttsie.
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 339
To MissLucretia P. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 30, 1898.
dear lucretia, — . . . Well, but I want to tell
you of my expedition yesterday, a great one for me.
You must know Brownings are carrying the wash
this year (such a comfort, no wrangling, and only
75 cents a week). I was sitting on my hill-top, sur-
veying the scene, about six, when their team emerged
from their house below on the drift-way. A sudden
idea took me down to the back door, where I invited
myself to get into the wagon. " It ?s an honour, Miss
Sewsan," said Mr. B., " and I consider it sech, for
I consider you to be the fust lady in the state. You
be that for eddication, at any rate." We were now
on the steepest part of the hill. I murmured, " I
guess you rather overrate me." "Haow?" said he.
" I Guess You Rather Overrate Me," I yelled.
" Not at all, not at all," he persisted, " the languages
you are acquainted with, and the numbers of them is
proved by the different nations you have visited." I
changed the subject to the condition of Mrs. Thomas
J. (who is in articulo mortis), and we occupied the
time to Elisha's with the treatment of laying out the
dead. . . .
Yours,
Suse.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
October 21, 1898.
dearest Caroline, — I long to communicate with
you, yet dally with the thought, for (like you) I
loathe the pen in these days. My mind has invented
a rake with separate pens for the teeth, wherewith
we could scrape the soil of correspondence, and, with
340 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
but one set of ideas, start a whole field of letters.
Cadmus would be nowhere in comparison.
Where are you ? How long do you stay, what are
you going to do next? I put these questions and
will, meanwhile, answer them with regard to myself.
I am here. I mean to stay till the bottom of the
thermometer comes out. . . .
To revert to the living Susan, I came back Friday
night and settled down to peace, " George Meredith/'
a French novel, some salutary sewing and an excel-
lent cat. Whereupon, to tell the truth, I took to my
bed this Monday (as you have seen me arrive at
your house), the result of fatigue and worry. I had
a glorious little attack, all to myself, with excellent
Loisy to tend me, and let me alone, and at the proper
time to make me a chicken-broth that was a dream
of succulence ; I am all right now, and feel the springs
of youth and gaiety bubbling up round my aged roots
again. But I want to stay here, in order to have
myself to myself for a change, as it has not been
possible all summer long, and I think the first half
of November will be beautiful, don't you ? . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Ellen H. Weeden
(Mrs. Nathaniel W. Smith)
San Ysidro, California, February 26, 1899.
dear my polly, — . . . Here it is just about
perfect. I wish you were here, my dear ; I think we
must take a trip together sometime. It was, to tell
the truth, quite fearful cold for two or three days,
but then the weather turned warm, too hot for grum-
blers. I am sitting in my great big open window
now, with my hair down my back, before dressing
for breakfast. Chinese brings me a little pot of
coffee at seven (when I come back from my luscious
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 341
cold bath, in a house where such things are situated) ,
just one hundred steps from my room. (There! a
sweet donkey brayed just now on the next ranch, in
a most loving pathetic manner.) And then I write
my letters till the jangle wrangle rings for getting
up, when I ought to proceed to put on my shirt-
waist and thin undergarments. My room is called
the "Buglight," because it is a little house all by
itself set up on four legs over a sort of piazza where
we sit to read and sew. See those
outside steps that climb up to it?
The ranch house, with four rooms
only one storey, is close at hand just
below where the companions live.
Mrs. Day, Susan, and her maid
were there when we were here to-
gether, but they did n't let me have the " Bug " then.
It is rather cold, as there is no stove or anything, in
fact, it is about like the dog-house in matter of struc-
ture. But the sun rises about the time I do and
comes shining in with great might, and my window
and little balcony overlook the garden all full of
oranges, mandarins, grape-fruit (ripe, you know),
guava bushes, besides all manner of flowers in blos-
som. Lots of little birds skipping round in the live-
oak and cypress trees, and above all a sweet little
cat I've named " Cuddly-cuddly" infests us; full of
purr and lap-sitting, though also wild and frolicsome.
She troubles Mrs. Weld by catching birds and eating
them before our eyes, and I told Mrs. Weld I heard
Cuddly saying her prayers, and she said, " Give us
each day our daily bird." Ain't she naughty ?
This place is about six miles out of the world,
there are but a few people here, and we just dawdle
all the time, doing nothing beyond writing, playing
cards, reading aloud, sewing a little — to mend our
clothes — and strolling round. The mountains are
342 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
beautiful behind the ranch, and in front is the
Pacific, just about as far as the Atlantic from us at
Matunuck, only we are higher up among the hills
here. We drive when we choose, or are driven in a
great surrey with two horses ; but it 's just discovered
that I am allowed to drive " Jack " in a little light
wagon. This is great fun. H|e goes splendidly, but
is very gentle all the same. Yesterday, Daisy Rand
(twenty- three), who is with us, had to go to Santa
Barbara to luncheon with some friends. It's about
like going to the Pier, but the roads are lovely, wind-
ing through woods and along by the sea. So I drove
her into town with Jack. We did a lot of shopping
in the funny little town. I wanted a piece of pink
ribbon. I wish you could see their collection, in one
of the best shops, — about twenty rolls, that was all,
in a glass case. O. Kenyon would blush at such a
small show. I left Daisy, and then drove off to see
some friends of ours, the Olivers, who live in Mission
Canon, and invited myself to lunch. It was dinner
(one o'clock), all the better, and I had a lovely time.
They live, by the way, just beyond the Hazards'
place, which is all closed and lonely, its beautiful
garden wasted. It seems quite forlorn. The Olivers'
servants are all Spanish, so Cachucha, or whatever
his name is, took " mi cavdHoT and put him up till
we ordered him brought round later. Then I rushed
back to town, picked up Miss Rand, and we drove
home in great spirits, in time for our dinner,
6:30 p.m. . . .
Youe Susan.
BOSTON, NEW YOKE, CALIFORNIA 343
To Miss Lucretia P. Hale
Hotel del Monte, Monterey,
April 22, 1899.
dear lucretia, — We have changed our base, you
see, and arrived here yesterday afternoon, pretty
tired, after a delightful but rather fatiguing trip.
I must tell you about it at length, and you can cir-
culate the tale amongst the various constituents. You
must know, and Nelly will agree, that there is one
hideous way of getting from southern California up
north, and one beautiful way, which is rather diffi-
cult to engineer, partly on account of everybody
thinking it's best to go the bad way. . . .
I thought we had better go the good way, and so,
I got our tickets changed and everything fixed. We
got started on Tuesday in fine shape. The day was
perfect. There had been fogs, so everybody kept
saying, " What shall you do if it rains ! " It wont
rain, you know, till next November, so that seemed
futile. Our trunks had gone to town the night be-
fore ; and about eleven we climbed into a nice surrey,
from the stage-office, Santa Barbara, with our small
effects (my Angel and Carry's hold-all) a splendid
luncheon in a tin box, and quantities of wraps. We
had a Mexican driver, named Olivas, who proved in
the long run rather tedious, but he was excellent with
the horses, and very careful about hot-boxes and
watering. All the inmates of the ranch were there
under the great pepper tree to say good-bye; the
Bushnells and Clarkes and Munros and Sam. Cabot
and Mrs. Sam., and sundry minor lights, and most
of all, Mrs. Hawes, whom we have become very fond
of, and she of us, so it was quite anguish to part
from her, and Mr. Hawes, the same, and Rudolpho
and Joachim, and the Chinese, and Cuddly, the cat
(who was at my door at five in the morning), and
344 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
(I forgot to mention) Mrs. Greene and Mrs. Thacher
and Miss Haven, who are coming on here next week.
So we drove away triumphant, through the pretty
garden reeking with roses, but sad at heart, thinking
very likely we may never be there again, paid for
our journey at the stage-office, and then went off
towards Arro Hondo. After ten miles or more of
plain road (passing the house where we used to see
the Birge Harrisons), we came down to the sea, and
the rest of the day was beautiful, along the shore,
chiefly on a cliff looking down at headlands with
surf breaking, then turning in and out to round gul-
lies where brooks flowed down to the sea, on our right
the hills, dotted with white oaks or glorious fields
of yellow mustard, like exaggerated sunshine. We
ate our luncheon under a great live-oak at Tecalote,
and all the p. m. drove and drove, reaching Arro
Hondo about sunset. Arro or Arroyo Hondo means
the deep ravine, — and there tucked away between
steep hills was a ranch on the creek, approached by
a narrow bridge, just one Mexican adobe house, where
we spent the night, in two rooms on the lower (and
only) floor, our doors opening on the piazza, the
plunging sea in our ears, great eucalyptus trees
reaching up out of the shadow of the hills, and the
moonlight trickling through their branches. Noth-
ing could come there except by the stage road, and
nothing would come there, after us, till the next
noon. Very worthy people (Yankees) gave us an
excellent supper and breakfast, and Thursday, the
next morning, we were off betimes (eight o'clock)
with Olivas, and drove and drove all day long. We
left the sea about 10 a. m. and turned into a beauti-
ful narrow pass through deep woods, and the rest
of the way was up and down along a creek amongst
lovely wooded mountains and fields for grazing, im-
mense ranches without fences, all midsummer green
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 345
now, and the day really very hot! and oh, my! the
flowers ! Mariposa lilies, painter' s-brush, poppies, and
dozens of others in patches, now blue, now yellow,
now crimson. It is just the heyday of it this month.
I have never seen such profusion even here before.
Lunch under a great willow tree, in a barley field,
which the horses gobbled joyfully. At five we reached
Lompoc, a ridiculous, hideous, American town, all at
right angles, — put up at " Hotel Arthur," requested
our supper then, or at least, some coffee and bread
and butter. G. Proprietor said supper hour was five-
thirty and "he didn't think he could get the cook
to get it any earlier." However, an agreeable boy,
who helped G. P. to run things, persuaded the cook,
and brought us coffee in our room, where we were
shaking ourselves out of the dust, — and at six we
were on the road again, an ugly straight one for
" Surf." This is a new place, only a hideous R. R.
terminus. The train came along and we got into our
sleeper stateroom, and spent the night in it, though
the train did n't start till five the next morning ! We
had it all to ourselves, except three ladies, who ar-
rived after we did by stage from Santa B. Wasn't
that funny! We felt like dogs next morning, when
the train started under us, — but porter gave us a
very good " Buffet " breakfast, and we reached Cas-
troville at noon, where we lunched at the station, then
came on a small branch to the gates of this hotel. I
will give our experiences here in my next. Lots of
love from
Susie.
346 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Hotel Athen^um, Chautauqua, Monday
morning, August H, 1899.
{After breakfast.)
Oh, my dear creature, you can't think how I miss
you now I am on the war-path again. It's quite
terrible ! I have things to refer to you at every turn.
We came here on "the Flyer" (Empire State train)
from New York Saturday, tore over the same coun-
try we came through six weeks agp. By the way, the
orange asclepias is still in blossom near Rochester.
It was fearfully hot; the Pullman car was crowded.
Two imps of children, a married couple playing crib-
bage, and lots of fat gentlemen. These mostly got
out at Utica, the cribbage pair kept on pegging all
day, he was in his shirt-sleeves, so was she, for that
matter. They had a most vulgar, modern cribbage
board made of tin or something similar, with great
pins, like those we use in dressing ourselves, except
fatter, a great many of these pins, and I may say
they seemed not to get lost. They played like light-
ning, and he constantly got the better of her, which
was the only thing about him that reminded me of you.
We reached Buffalo at four-thirty p. m. (only eight
hours from New York), and then had to go the rest
of the way, two hours, in a nasty little side train down
to Mayville, jammed into a blazing hot common car,
with about a million female people, all in shirt-
waists, who got out at suburban homes every two
minutes, with masses of bundles and bags. I had
to sit crowded up with two shawl-straps, my cape,
my umbrella, Pa's waterproof and a woman, and Pa
was the same in the seat in front with his bag and
cane, only he was sitting on his best and only hat;
besides this, a red-bound book of small stories and the
Cosmopolitan came out of the pocket of his water-
BOSTON, NEW YOKK, CALIFOKNIA 347
proof and fell all over me. Thus we passed aeons,
stopping at station after station, with more shirt-
waists piling in upon us. We saw the sun set in a
great lake there was, and I fully expected to see it
rise again, but before then we came to the part of it
on which we embarked in a small bath-tub called the
City of Rochester, about as big as one-eighth of a
Nahant boat; all the shirt-waists got on with their
bicycles, which were heaped up in the waist of the
ship, and we were all jammed into the stern under
an awning. The thing snorted and started, and
bustled out into mid-ocean, then stopped and began
to wobble and snort more, apparently shrieking for
help. I was quite sure we should go to the bottom.
It was now pitch dark; only a crescent moon was
making a path over the water, and lights sparkling
afar off, and I was wondering whether I could swim
there in my boots and carrying my umbrella and the
Cosmopolitan, when lo ! the boat snorted and started
again, and it appeared our place was right there at the
back where I could n't have seen it. We landed on a
crowded wharf, and by reason of passes went through
a gate, while the shirt-waists remained howling
without until they had paid the uttermost farthing.
My dear, this is a most wonderful place, there are
ten thousand people, truly that number, here this
minute, and I saw them all at the Auditorium yester-
day, at church, really an imposing scene, a great
bowl of a place with sloping ranks of seats to contain
these people, open to the air above, all woods and
great trees, so it was n't hot. A fine organ, a trained
choir of one hundred voices or more, instruments
besides, a good leader and the audience all also sing-
ing, " Holy, Holy, Holy," like mad. Pa sate up on
the platform, being a " counsellor," and, amongst
other things, by and by he was announced by name
to the audience to read a portion of Scripture. A
348 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
little lady next me in a good blue foulard whispered
to me, " Is he any relation to the man that writes the
books % " Said I, " It 's the same." Said she, " Did
you know he was a minister ? ' Said I, " Hush, —
I'm his sister." (Because she had no business to be
talking during prayer or something.) She was cov-
ered with confusion, and afterwards pressed my hand
and said it was an honour.
We are ourselves staying at a great howling, bel-
lowing hotel, built much on the plan of that at the
Grand Canyon, in fact the carpets are the same, but
there are swarms of cottages where the shirt-waists
are poked. You know they are all here improving
their minds, learning some darn thing or other, and
hearing lectures and being very devout especially
Sundays. This week is the Grand Commencement
Graduation Feast of the season. We are fairly com-
fortable, and sit at a small table with the great guns
of the institution, such as Dr. Hurlbut, Bishop Vin-
cent, and the like. I am a small lion myself, but
seldom growl in the presence of Rev. E. E. H., of
course. It is a philanthropic enterprise, and no
doubt gives a pot of culture and all that, but do you
know, even the gate-money brings in thousands of
dollars, and they must make money hand over hand,
so they can afford to do things in style. The scene
is a beautiful great grove with great trees, and the
lake, and fine buildings, stone walks, a Doric temple,
lighted with flaming torches, shirt-waists wandering
'mid the electric lights and talking about geology and
the next world, to each other, no men to speak of, and
" meetings " every five minutes to " hear " something.
It is all, in fact, extremely interesting, but Lord! I
shall be glad to get out of it, which will be next Friday,
and safe in my beddybeddy Saturday night. Write
to Matunuck and tell me how you like this letter.
Loving Susan.
BOSTON", NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 349
To Mes. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, October 7, 1899.
. . . Oh, that Back Bay Station! Have you ever
imagined such a ghastly, bellowing cave of the
winds? I got there Wednesday afternoon with the
Angel in my hand, not darst to check anything, fear
they 'd carry it on to the Interminable. I stood upon
a blasted heath in a sort of tunnel, looked up a great
ladder and saw cabmen at the top (as it might be
that landing at the Yellowstone Falls), with tele-
scopes looking down. I said in a small voice, " Could
you come and get this bag?" One of them took
350 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
wings and pounced, like the aforesaid eagle, and thus
I was saved. But how devilish. The employees are
so disconsolate. The man at the news-stall stands
like one alone in a desert, saying it 's horrid. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
Sunday, November 5, 1899,
Oh! my dear! that carpet! It's a joy forever,
and, strange to say, it 's exactly the right dismentions
(I mean, I believe, dimensions), as far as the female
brain can compound. We 've spread it out in the big
parlour, and every little while I say to Loisy, " Let 's
go and look at my carpet," and when the morning
sun is just slanting in upon it and door stands open
admitting balmy perfumes of November, I go and
dance my saraband all over it to a joyous, morning
song. Mr. Browning says, " I don't know as I ever
see sech a one." I myself know perfectly well that
he never did. Seriously, my dear, it will fit exact
in this room where I want it, just taking out the
border where the hearth and chimney comes. My!
won't it look handsome in this room. I am going
to leave it where it is till I come down in the spring,
and then spread it here. Makes me long all the more
to have the fitful, feverish, hateful winter over with,
and me here again. . . .
I had a rotten time in town, the only whiff of
excellence was seeing you come in at the door. It
is enchanting here. I still breakfast outdoors, —
only this morning I didn't, for it was 32° only, and
the sun in a bank of clouds where it arose, lazy thing,
at six-thirty. Such a lovely stroll on the beach yes-
terday afternoon and lots of nice thoughts of things
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 351
past and to come. Home in a glorious sunset, —
and somebody had put chrysanthemums on my
mantelpiece, and the fire was blazing, and a small
moon looking in at the window. Passed the evening
with Tristam Lacy (Mallock), and went to bed at
eight o'clock. ... I will stop now. Lots of love.
SUSAN".
To Mrs. William G. Weld
221 Newbuey Street, February k 1900.
Now, my dear, do you understand that I am in
bed with bronchitis, barking, sneezing, blowing, for-
bidden to speak, or mix with my kind, and confined
to my doctor for companionship ? Well, I am, and
must hurry to describe it to you before I get perfectly
well, which may happen at any moment, and I want
to be sure you know how dreadful it is first. No
sooner had you departed than my bones began to ache.
On Thursday Mrs. Wells gave me a lovely tea of
about thirty constituents. I wore my (last year's)
pink-embroidered-on-black-Hollander waist, and they
all said how well I looked, and began planning lunch-
eons and things for me. The next day I moved into
these (excellent) rooms. I'll tell you about them
later. Went to a dinner that evening, it was a fiend-
ish night, bellowing wind, and that slippery, I came
near sitting down on the curb-stone several times
from sheer fear. The next night I went to the theatre
to see Rogers Brothers, and then I took to my bed
and stayed there till ever since. My dear Carry,
I bark and sneeze just the way you used to do. I
didn't know before that bronchitis was like that.
Have you got a whole chicken yard in your midst that
clucks and wheezes and yawps and bellows just how
it 's a mind to, without any collusion or consent from
yourself ? Mine does, and I think it very unpleasant.
352 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
But no matter, I am getting over it, and in fact
I'll tell you about a little spree I had yesterday,
which turned out all right. You see this 221 New-
bury is not a regular boarding-house — (Grod forbid !)
I only have my breakfast in my room — it's very
good. But when I got well enough to eat, and my
doctor said I could have a steak, they brought me up
a small piece of white leather with marks of a
toasting-fork over it and some pepper, and I didn't
care very much for that. So the next day, which
was yesterday, I just privately got out of bed and
put on all my clothes for the first time in a week,
and put on stockings and shoes, and my flannel waist
and the " Beast," and tied up my bonnet in a veil,
and fastened my fur over my mouth, so that nothing
was to be seen but eyes, like an owl in an ivy bush,
and I ran down-stairs and out of the door and waited
ten minutes on the corner, a devilish wind blowing
forty knots an hour, and not only knots but bits of
glass and brown sticks, one of which went into my
eye. My car took me out to Highland Street; and
I stopped and bought a small, thick steak at the
butcher's, and ordered a cab at the stable, and walked
up the hill to No. 39. By ill luck I fell foul of my
doctor, just starting off in his automobile runabout.
He flew out and seized me by the fur. "What are you
doing here, Miss Hale ? " It was a good thing ; for
he could guide me firmly into the house, and put me
down on a sofa. Every soul alive was out of the
house, but we gave the steak to the cook, the doctor
went away, and by and by, a nice succulent smell
came up on a hot plate, accompanied by juice and
nice meat and a slice of toast and glass of wine. So
I ate and was thankful, very thankful, and by and
by my cab came and I got in and drove back here,
and went to bed again, none the worse. Niece Nelly
turned up, in the midst of my escapade, and tried
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 353
to make me stop and live there, but I couldn't do
that. There won't be any more trouble, for to-day
there 's roast chicken for one o'clock dinner, and after
this I shall go out to my meals. I mean to visit Rose
and forage for a meal pretty soon, so don't you worry
about me, because I shall be all right long before you
get this.
As for what 's going on in the world, don't ask me,
for they don't let me see people for fear I should talk
and get black in the face. is going to marry
. She is the Christian Science lady, you know.
When I was in Washington there was a family named
M , or something, who had absolutely no diges-
tion, and suffered agonies from peritonitis, bronchitis,
diagnosis, and meningitis, whenever they put food
in their mouths. But after they knew , they
used to have cucumbers and lobster salad regularly
for dinner, and just telegraph afterwards to her, and
she would simply fix her mind upon her Maker, and
they would digest by return telegram. . . .
You must know that I can eat here, if I want to
(in general I don't want to). It is not a regular
boarding-house, but three worthy spinsters, the only
inmates besides the landlady, have meals which I can
share at any time, quite handy. These three spin-
sters occupy each one room by herself, and they think
I am splendid because I have a parlour. They stick
out their noses and wiggle them like rabbits when
my " company " comes, through their cracks to their
doors, — and they all have shut-up bedsteads, — and
they all make their own beds and lie in them. I am
so afraid they will all be found dead some morning,
and I shall be accused of the crime. There 's a bed
of that description here in my chamber, but I won't
sleep in it, so it 's " draped," as the landlady calls
it, and looks a cross between a catafalque and a
shower-bath. But my room is so big it don't trouble,
354
LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
and I keep my shopping on it. It's too bad this
letter is not so amusing as the last, but the materials
don't seem so succulent. Write, write incessantly.
Yours,
Susan.
To Mes. William G. Weld
221 Newbury Street, February 23, 1900.
dear Caroline, — This is me yesterday going out
to catch a car in my black lace and arctics. No bon-
net, as it was impossible to open the umbrella. No-
body stared, for there was nobody anywhere. I had
the car to myself, and buzzed down to the Subway,
ran into the " 'Dike," where they took me apart and
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 355
hung me up to dry; and when Philip and Steven
Codman came in they found me sitting cheerfully
at the table in my red-flannel shirt-waist, with cock-
tails and oysters all ready for them. We had a jolly
time and so celebrated the Father of our Country.
It was a merry rain, poured all day and till midnight,
and so hot! I was here in the evening reading, and
the thermometer was 80°, with window open and
register shut.
The other spree I had was going to 's funeral,
which had place in my brother's church, quite handy.
John Tibbetts, I understand, says he is always glad
of a funeral when he comes here to see his mother,
for everybody sees you, and it saves the trouble of
sending cards. I was with Parber, who performed
the occasion, so I came up the little winding stair
by the pulpit, and thus burst upon the mourners
assembled, and popped into the first place handy next
to , instead of being sorted out, according to my
kind, by Russell Sullivan and other devout ushers,
who were doing their duty at the main entrance. As
is niece of the departed husband of the deceased,
she may have resented this contiguity. But she 's
deaf as a post, so she didn't dare say anything, and
I pressed her hand to show it was all right. Soon, all
the collaterals came in, swathed in crape, so you
couldn't tell them apart. . . . Helen and Minnie,
Emma Rodman and her dear, handsome, old father,
who looks as if he were walking in a dream of fifty
years ago, and that devil, , still alive, though the
Woman Suffrage Bill is knocked dead as a door-nail.
She fell upon me and hung around my neck, but I
cast her off like a millstone, and swam across the
street to my car. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
356 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Boston, March 1, 1900.
dear Caroline, — Carla Atkinson is coming here
to lunch with me and take me to a concert, but I 'm
too previous, and she won't be here for half an hour ;
so I '11 sit in a corner and write.
It 's pouring ; did you ever know anything like it !
Chicago is buried in eleven inches of snow, but we
are in a Niagara. That's why I'm not running to
see Rose in this interval. Sheets of water bar the
way between this and No. 6, and what 's more, I 've
just broken the mainspring of my lovely umbrella,
so it 's run down and no good.
Under these circumstances, I will simply give you
a plain, unvarnished tale of what happened to me
when I last went out into the world on Tuesday last.
First, I had luncheon with George at the Union Club,
and, by the way, we had little chunks of lobster en
brochette with thin bacon between, just fried in
crumbs with a mayonnaise sauce, or eke Tartare.
Good idea? Then I lifted myself up along by the
State House, seeing things I never dreamed of before,
a great eagle on a column, and a facade facing some
place and a tunnel that pretended to be Mount Ver-
non Street, and a dirt heap that was all that was left
of Hancock Place ; and so by reason of great strength
arrived at No. 24, where Isabella and Marv Curtis
reside, next door to Greely. It was something after
two, and of course too early, and I had made an awful
mess of it, because they were just sitting down to
middle-day dinner, after the customs of the ancients.
They begged me to join, but the memory of the
brochette was too recent. They showed me a little
real owl that sits in a chestnut-tree at the back of
their house, and eats the sparrows. ... I then in
BOSTON, NEW YOKK, CALIFOENIA 357
a perfunctory manner meant to drop a card on the
lamenting 's, on account of her mother. You
remember the hymn, " I '11 drop my burden at their
feet and bear a card away." Of course she was see-
ing no one, but to my amazement the man-opener,
I mean doorkeeper, said he was sure Mr. would
see Miss Hale, and so he would, and we had a really
charming chat of half an hour concerning the demise ;
and her kindnesses and eccentricities, and the family
diamonds and pictures, and how pleased they were
with Edward E. and the service in his church, and
all that. It seems she died all in a minute very
peacefully and quietly — and that's a blessing for
anybody — and there is no will, because she had de-
stroyed the one she once made, saying that everybody
mentioned in it was dead before her, and many other
little traits really touching and pleasant to dwell on.
So then, on leaving there, I thought it was late
enough to put in at Helen and Minnie's, but the
maid, clothed exclusively in a cap and a flaming
sword, proclaimed they didn't receive till four.
Whereupon, like the peri at the gate with no oil in
my lamp and not murmuring " Too late," I was
for going elsewhere, but Papa Ellerton Pratt from
the top of the stairs bellowed that Miss Hale was to
come up. Once again saved by masculine supremacy.
We sate, Pratt-ling, in front of a great log, on the
well-known sofa with ancestors looking down on us,
till Minnie and Helen came in, and persons of all
ages and sexes, amongst the latter Edward Jackson,
and dear old Henry Sayles, who is getting aweary of
this world. He thinks it's this world, but I know
it's Boston that's the matter with him. However,
he 's just had a little spin in the Mediterranean with
(a nephew) Tappan Francis, and they saw Mrs.
Homans and Taormina, and the Cappella Reale at
Palermo and several things, but not Girgenti. Agnes
358 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Irwin came in, and she and I went away together,
and blew down the street with a howling gale against
us, . . . till I forsook her, to call at the May Win-
sors'. They were out, — the good-for-nothings — but
I went in and tied my head up again (did you see
about the girl at the concert, who sate bleeding all
down her cheek from too firm a hat-pin?), and went
on to call on Mrs. Townsend, a dinner call, and then
on Mrs. C. G. Loring in Otis Place. The great big
sun was pouring its level rays through that gap, a
flood of gold, but the gale was unabated. Mrs. Lor-
ing away, but the genial General there, who showed
me their daffodils, and then I came out again into
the cold world. The last blow was meeting Harriet
Guild, who told me everybody else was dead, so I
flang myself into a passing automobile and had my-
self taken home. Took off my regalia, put on a
wrapper, had a simple meal of a cup of tea and some
crackers, and read a German novel I Ve got till nine,
and so to bed. There now, I guess it's time for
Carla.
Yours,
Susy.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Thornden, Sunday, March %5, 1900.
Oh ! Carry, to think my dear Mr. Rogers is dead !
I just read it in my Sun. The dearest man ever was !
Remember his reading Rob's poem to us at Mrs.
Thaw's luncheon? I know he didn't want to live
any more, after the death of his wife ; they were the
most devoted people I ever saw, — he has been brave
as brave since her death, and kept up his cheerful
gaiety as well as he could — but it was no good. He
has had lots of sad things happen to him. Oh, dear !
Excuse this lamentation of mine, and tell me what-
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 359
ever you hear about him. I send you (direct from
publishers in Toronto) the "Lunatic at large,"
which we think pretty funny, but not so funny as
the people think who think it is very funny. If you
get this before you begin the book, skip the introduc-
tion, till after you have read the book. It spoils the
effect. I think it will read aloud well.
It's too bad about your readers. No good in
people that don't read con amove. We might buy a
" something-phone," and have me read into it, and
send the scrolls on by instalments, for you to let loose
while you are sitting round sewing on the square
piaz. Ha ! pleasing thought, but rather dull for me,
sitting bellowing into a hole with no response.
Before I forget it, let me tell you to be sure and
buy the two Scribners for March and April, on ac-
count of a tale in two parts called the " Touch-
stone " by Mrs. or Miss Wharton. We have only read
the first part, and are impatiently awaiting the end
in the April number. It is very clever; she is more
James-y than Henry himself, epigrammatic in every
line, but her style thus far has the merit that you can
understand what she means, on account of her finish-
ing her sentences, which her master had long ceased
to do.
We have here now Miss Kirkland (you know,
360 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
mother a Wilkinson, thus cousin once removed of
May's), who was living in Johannesburg when the
row began, with her brother Jack, who is an Edison
man ; he was trying in his Edisonian way to electrify
South Africa, when South Africa turned upon him
and electrified the world. They had to come away,
naturally, leaving ("their tails" and) batteries behind
them, and she is giving three " talks " here in Syra-
cuse about the situation. All Davises and herself are
fiercely English, and I have learned much about the
impossibility of Boers. Apart from opinions, she
is very interesting, and describes picturesque Johan-
nesburg, all glowing in the primitive colours, red
earth, blue sky, intense green of " wattle," etc., in a
very interesting manner. It will never look so any
more, for the war will have spoiled everything, even
if Kruger don't blow it up. . . . Good-bye, dear.
Yours,
Susie.
To Mes. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Khode Island, April 8, 1900.
dear carry, — At last! I 've cleared decks of
baleful bills, perfunctory notes, and refusals of offers
of marriage, and " come to you at last " with my big
yarn. I Ve been here just a week (to-morrow) and
everything is lovely. The landscape is sere and
brown still, but the great big sea is all sparkling
with sunshine, alder tassels are getting on their mus-
tard, fat robins jounce the ground, and I saw a great
rabbit. The only other wild beast visible is the
donkey down at Browning's. . . .
Then I touched in New York to get a good soak
in the villainies of that place before coming into
retirement here. . . . Billy and I had skurce time
after this to dress for dinner, — and then go to
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 361
" Sherlock Holmes/' which is splendid, Will Gillette
being the incarnation absolute of Conan Doyle's crea-
tion ; long, thin, wiry, imperturbable. The best scene
is in a most unpleasant cellar where you are led to
believe that gas may escape at any moment and suf-
focate everybody, especially Sherlock H., who is de-
coyed there for that purpose, when suddenly he takes
a great chair he's been sitting in and smashes the
only lamp, so that not only ,that cellar, but the whole
theatre, is in total darkness, except the gleam of his
cigar up by a broken window. Of course, all his at-
tackers fly up to that window to catch him, except
one, who brings another light, revealing Mr. Sher-
lock Holmes slipping out of the opposite door, which
he bangs behind him, and we hear him bolting a mil-
lion great bolts the other side, and the curtain goes
down leaving everybody to perish miserably, except
himself and a girl there is round. It is thrilling. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, April £9, 1900.
... As for Francis and me, we have nothing
much to tell in return. Our excitements are limited
to bursting in on each other after long, solitary
prowls among the hills with our arms full of luscious
Mayflower, which is now in perfection. One dawdles
along peering under laurel clumps and dead leaves
till a little patch appears full of winking, little white
blossoms. In my case I let my huge bulk down with
a slump by one of these patches, and lay hold of a
bunch, lo! the trailing vine comes up with blossoms
hanging along its stem for half a yard, dainty pink,
and sweet in smell. Nice little anemones say "Ha!
ha ! " under the bushes, and my ! such big dandelions,
362 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
just fit boutonmeres for a robin, going to his wedding
in a fat, red waistcoat. Brambles prevail, and I
came in streaming with blood last time from a rent
in my wrist, grabbing an especially good blue violet.
No matter, there 7s carbolated vaseline and asphyxi-
ated cotton in the house, as well as soap and warm
water. . . .
Loving Susie.
To Miss Ellen Day Hale
7 : 30 a. m., Matunuck, Rhode Island,
May 15, 1900.
dear nelly, — Are you there? I believe I must
write you one of my jorums. It is perfectly exquis-
ite here, yesterday and to-day, after so much waiting,
and some really bitter weather. Doors and windows
all open, "birrids" singing, buds sprouting, sum-
mer heat and a soft haze in the air. Yesterday I did
nothing but dream and dawdle, in the front porch
chiefly, neither reading nor sewing, just watching
the things. It's so still here. Yesterday I heard
somebody whistling; thought it must be on my own
hill ; no, it was a man away by Matlack's ; finally he
came along with a tin pail and started down the drift-
way. I saw (and heard him till the sounds were
lost), and then I could still see him, the only black
spot in the road, way down to Wanton's, still blithely
walking along whistling. And that was all that hap-
pened during that space of half an hour.
Just now when I was eating outdoors a little
"smole birrid" came and sate down in a crotch of
the vine, hitched about to see if it sate easy — exam-
ined the timbers with an eye to building. Then flew
away, to tell Mr. Birrid, I suppose, what the rent
was. . . .
BOSTON, NEW YOEK, CALIFORNIA 363
Nothing is done on my place, for not a man is to
be had. I must marry ; what I need is a man under
constant control, who can move bookcases, beat car-
pets, saw wood, change a bedstead. . . .
Your Susan.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 7, 1900.
Hours with Browning
dear mary, — When your little friends ask you
about the employment of my time, and you mention
the above as one factor in my existence, I fear they
may misapprehend. This thought was mine just
now as I was engaged with Robert B., pursuing our
agreement that he " chore' for me one hour a day
for a dollar a week, in the aesthetic, poetic, congenial
task of cleaning up the dog-house and cellar. Not
Sordello but sawed wood was our background, —
" Here ! pass the broom," not Pippa passes. The joke
is threadbare, but still retains its humorous aspect.
The most interesting thing we discovered was three
addled eggs on a shelf in the dog-house, which it's
thought Bartlett, not Partlet ( ! ), laid there last
autumn. They suggested themselves first to my nose,
later on to sight. Well, the occasion was an interest-
ing and drastic one, and I don't feel much more ex-
hausted than after a regular Browning seance with
T. Wentworth Higginson in the chair, and, after all,
now that I am cleaned up myself, in my red gown,
hair tied and put up, hands washed, and a pocket-
handkerchief about me, it is but ten o'clock and
plenty time for late mail. . . .
" Children of the Mist " is here, and I 'm sure I
shall like it. It has the real Dartmoor tang, don't
it, and, as you say, suggests Hardy, although strong
364 LETTEES OF SUSAN" HALE
and individual. I divided my brief evening between
that and Maeterlinck's " Bees," which is most de-
lightful. I have it in English (partly because they
wont send me the French). I 'm sure I shall get so
stuck-up with honeycombs and queens as to reach the
belief that mankind is a mere detail. (Oh! must
I say that to Bee or not to Bee is the real
question!) . . .
So far we are alone, but Francis is due at any
moment, and all the Grays arrive to-morrow, via
Sound boat, at 9 :30 a. m., or thereabouts; there will
then be five in the kitchen to feed and eight, no, only
six, in the dining-room, i.e., Parber's study, — with
Edward, the baby, suspended between. We have had
three lovely days; now it's cloudy again. Jim
Brown came and climbed ladders, mended the leak,
fastened up the front door, made all the windows
open-and-shutable, unstuck the slats of blinds, stopt
the hole in the fireplace and said it was dangerous,
besides making himself most agreeable, and charging
the whole to Mr. Weeden (at the request it appears
of the latter). Jim has a loud, bellowing voice, like
hailing you from the top-mast, and if you don't adopt
his pitch in reply, he says, " Haow ? "
By the way, why not have a " Half -sheet
Club," with no laws, and one by-law, which should
be for members only to write to members when
reminded to by the sight of a half-sheet and on it
" Half-sheets without Authors ' could be the name
of the club, and you and I could be the only ones
in it.
I must stop, partly because I observe that, like the
eggs, I 'm addled. I '11 go and hem napkins to restore
my tone. My place and house look sweet really;
Mary Burrell and Cornelia came down yesterday and
brought me a mess of greens (chadlocks, spinach,
milk-weed, dandelions, all in a brown-paper bag) and
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 365
a huge bunch of my lilacs, snowballs and things.
Everything is a dream of green lushness between here
and Wakefield.
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Ellen H. Weeden
(Mes. N. W. Smith)
Matunuck, Rhode Island, November 5, 1901.
dear polly, — The sun was just coming out of a
fog-bank, the thermometer was 32°, when I began
to eat outdoors this morning. The whole land was
covered with a white frost. Weeden's Hill looked
like a birthday cake, and I wanted to see everything
begin to sparkle when the sun touched it, and I did.
Coffee and beef-steak smoked in the sharp air, and so
did my breath, but I had on my little fur, and my
bear over my knees, — and a good snapping fire in
the red room to fall back on. I have fallen back on
it now. It's 50° in here. You can't imagine a,nj-
thing more lovely than the weather all this week.
I 've got jolly chrysanthemums in my yellow pot on
the table, and nasturtiums picked yesterday from
your wall. . . . Write.
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Ellen Day Hale
Funchal, Madeira, Thursday, I guess,
January 30, 190%.
dear nelly, — Here we are at the place I came
out to see, and it is very satisfactory. We were play-
ing round on shore yesterday, and were going in a
boat at ten o'clock. Meanwhile I will stop staring
at the island and the native boats wobbling up and
366 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
down at the landing stair, and write yon about it.
May be this will join my fat letter in the mail-bag.
We are having a jolly time with the Swift-Gray
combination, and they are all nice to me. The girls
are agreeably excited and fresh. We were all out
and competing for the bath-tub before six (this was
yesterday). Of course, the whole ship arose and
swarmed ashore, but we were sitting on the very top
deck as the sunrise touched the island and its great
cliffs began to unfold themselves before us. Until
nine we were gliding along confronting them. Lus-
cious, soft tints, you know, — like Andalusia, red and
green, forests and waterfalls and little houses like
Noah's Ark set about in folds of the vineyard. Rap-
turous ! Made me feel just like Straits of Gibraltar
and to cry, " Oh, why ever stay away from these
things ? " Then came the landing in wobbly small
boats. We went over with Swifts pretty early in the
game and climbed that fearful stony stair, all slime,
that occurs at intervals all round the Mediterranean
(for this seems just like that sea, though outside of
it). Portuguese "nao" sounded in our ears, the
naked natives were diving for coins.
Sometimes I think this first impression is the
whole thing. Might just as well go home now, and
wait till you forget it, and then start out and come
again. But the rest is excellent, also; I mean the
more to come. There was a worthy man on the pier
with a very English accent, who proved to be Jones
of Kentucky. He had simply strolled out to see the
event of our arrival, which occurs only once a year.
Ethel was keen to enjoy the medley of all sorts, which
I won't describe, except small puppies just out of a
nutshell, and a tall negro in the garb of a Catholic
priest. Hot, mind you, on shore, and ladies in pan-
nelas bringing fat roses and violets, camellias and
callas. Finally came our Henrys (all the rest of the
BOSTON, NEW YOKK, CALIFORNIA 367
ship-load spued out of boats in the interval), and
we went and sat in ox-carts, we really did, to be
drawn up the mountain. But such ox-carts, wait
till I tell Mister Browning about them. Low vic-
torias on runners with easy seats front and back like
a hack, tops like palaquins, with curtains that draw
or open. Thus we sate in three of them, me, Mrs.
Henry, Mrs. Townsend, Mrs. Wister in one — Ethel
with three of our men in another, and Mr. Henry,
Miss Butcher, and the other two in the third. Oh
it 's so pretty. A great brook divides the town down
a chasm with arched bridges over it, and all ferns
and elephants-ears growing on the sides, women wash-
ing, and lizards down there. The climbing stretch
is paved with cobblestones; and plane-trees, as yet
bare, are planted along. We glided up to Reid's
hotel, somebody urging the oxen, which are buff and
small, with bedposts on them for yokes, and men
running each side, and all yelling, and small boys
pressing flowers on us, and expecting small coin
(English), which we lacked, so then they gave us the
fat roses. The town is all on the slant, you under-
stand, like the back of Mentone, red tiles, green
blinds, gardens with our same California things, I
mean bougainvillaeas, scarlet passion-flower, begonia,
trumpet flowers, Marechal Niels, La Marks, all
climbing round like mad with splotches each of its
colour, streets very narrow, high walls, and these
gardens on top of them, with smiling faces looking
out of lattices and throwing down buds of camellias
to us. We went up and up for two hours, I should
think, getting steeper, more bellowing, men sweat-
ing; they keep greasing the runners with a kind of
horse-tail they have, which makes the cobblestones
very slippery. At last we alighted at a gate in a
very high wall, and inside was " Santa Clara," the
villa belonging to Mr. Gordon, a cousin of Mr.
368 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Henry's, who never lives in it now ; Mr. G. had writ-
ten his people to serve Mr. Henry's party a luncheon
in the veranda. Wasn't it delightful for us? The
garden, etc., like such villas at Algiers, full of trees
and shrubs, a broad, turfed terrace with a moss-
tinted, red parapet, and down below the town, the
sea, and our smoke-stacks like dots on the water. A
lovely play of clouds.
It rains three hundred days here, but off and on
sim bursting out, and there is almost a constant rain-
bow over the place, with one leg of it in the water.
The house is forlorn, because deserted, with great
opening rooms, and windows like doors opening on
verandas, with vistas between bay-trees. Pity they
are bored with it, the Gordons. We had a cold lunch
served by a worthy old Portuguese care-taker and
a valet de place Mr. Henry brought along from the
town. My! it was good, cold pasty of "weal and
'am," — cold beef, turkey with pate de fois, a deli-
cious salad mayonnaise, of which Miss Butcher said
she had tasted nothing so good since leaving Philadel-
phia, cheese cakes. We were hungry as bears, and
ate joyously. After luncheon the fun was to see lots
of sledges sliding down the cobblestones, these were
returning ship's company, amazed to perceive us up
at the lattices, and by and by we got into our baskets
on runners, and flew down lickety-split, but I was n't
frightened, for we were tightly wedged in, Mrs. Henry
and me, by an Uncle used for that purpose. Our
two running men, one on each side, urged and re-
strained us by ropes, running, yelling, slipping, slid-
ing, swerving round corners, sparing three elderly
ladies in the sledges in front of us, from instant
death. In a jiffy we were down at sea-level and close
to the stream and plane-trees. We fooled round in
the shops a little; the basket work is celebrated, but
I can't very well take home large piazza chairs with
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 369
arms. Henrys all stayed over to a ball, made for the
Auguste Victoria, but Ethel sweetly didn't care to,
and we came home in lovely lights, rainbow, etc.,
about four, tireder than dogs; at least, I was. . . .
Loving Susan.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, May 5, 1902.
my dear, — I have waited to write this till the
last moment before your arrival, that it may reach
you warm and bubbling with freshness and all the
glow of this raw sou'easter now raging. I had your
grand letters, but no use answering out into space
with no address short of 6 Comm. . . .
Speaking of space, and wireless Marconi, did you
see about the mouse that wanted to go to a piece of
cheese he saw ? " Take care," said Ma Mouse, " it
may be one of these wireless traps." Of course you
know that I have long had a wireless doorbell, the
knob is still up in the garret some place. Nobody
ever answers it, but it answers perfectly well itself,
so I feel in advance of the invention. By the way,
I have just invented wireless bird-cages, won't it be
nice, all those little birds we saw in Mexico sitting
round in the air on invisible perches, eating invisible
seeds out of wireless glass. Of course they can't fly
away, through fear of Marconi. I mean to have
a quantity of them.
But this, you will remark, is neither here nor there.
You will want to know some of my adventures since
last I wrote, whether from Europe, Asia or Africa,
I can't remember. Yet stay, — it was to Louisa I
wrote last from May Moulton's lovely spare-room
on March 18. Since then, ever since then, I 've been
fighting a barking, sneezing, catarrhal attack, such as
you Ve seen me through with many a time. Oh ! for
370 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Dr. Deahens' glorious spraying-machines! It was
the change from lovely Algiers to cold raw London
done it, and then the Voyage on the Saint Paul was
colder and rawer (but lots of fun, I had my cabin
to myself, dressed a doll, read a whole book, and
mended all my stockings). Black and blue all over
from bumping in and out of my berth, so rough.
Then JSTew York, Boston, coldest, rawest, — but Pa's
Millennium had to be attended to, a glorious ovation
it really was, and he was in fine shape throughout,
all my boys, his sons, there, and we sate in a row to
contemplate the apotheosis of Pa. . . .
Your loving Susie.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Matunuck, Khode Island, May H, 1902.
dear mary, — I can't resist this envelope, though
I 'm sure it will shock your hostess, when f orwardedl
I want to tell you that the Saturday and Sunday were
the most fiendish days here. Howling winds and that
cold, Tom's potatoes were froze, and there was an
inch of " oice " in Alice's dish-pan. It was, I am
sure, Martinique weather. (How terrible that is!)
It was impossible to keep even the red parlour warm,
55° either inside or out was our best record, and
I naturally had a relapse and am now a bran-new
wreck, with new aches and pains, different kinds,
with different drugs. Still, my new cook-stove is the
pride and glory of Matunuck. It has a sort of altar-
piece on which Loisa hangs votive offerings to Pros-
erpine (I suppose) in the way of the coffee-pot and
fried potatoes ready to eat. And we 've had a great
circus and cleaned out the cellar. You can't dream
what it is to be purged of your cellar. Cartloads of
rubbish carried off, and my hind-lawn, so to speak,
now resembles the scene of a collision, with smashed-
BOSTON, NEW YORK, CALIFORNIA 371
up locomotives lying bleeding, being the remains of
an absurd furnace the Hales had in Palaeozoic Ages.
A man is coming to lay a new cellar floor. Mean-
while I am taking myself off (as per contract), this
p. m. for the " 'Dike/' Mrs. Glover and George's
luncheon. I feel exactly like not doing this, but " I
dare say I shall have a good time."
The country is looking just as I wanted it to look
before, — just as I am leaving it,- — and when I
come back Saturday the maples will be out and
turned sere. Don't you know Theo. Brown used to
say " fall had come ' when the first crocus faded %
But don't let me be so gloomy. I cease.
Yours,
Susan.
CHAPTER XI
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT
(1902-1905)
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Off Baltimore, November 22, 1902.
(I mean, noi at sea but nephew Arthur s.)
. . . Meanwhile, it's lovely here, and mild as
summer, and it seems foolish to go anywhere. You
know the Arthurs are living in a long low southern
house with southern exposure. The sun streams in
through glass doors, and outside are broad fields of
winter wheat, so bright green, 'pon my word, they
remind me of sugar-canes at Cuernavaca and the
wooded hill beyond suggests Popo and Ixtax, that is
to say, enveloped in clouds. We have great big chim-
neys and huge logs to burn, but scarcely want them.
But I sort of want to get somewhere, having been
running round in and out of my trunk since Octo-
ber 19. It was delightful at Olana, under the new
regime of Mrs. Louis Church; — very pleasant at
Schenectady, with my descendants Maurice, Nathan
and Tom ; amusing as ever at Hartford. I saw Mrs.
Charles Warner by the way.
I spent a night at Manhattan coming here. Ye
gods! what a place New York is at present. I am
sure Sodom and Gomorrah were plain sailing by
contrast. Great chasms at your feet, gallows over
head, explosions saying, " Boong," to make you jump
every other minute, smells, smokes, lightnings. That
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 373
piece-of-cheese building on Madison Square in the
angle of Broadway and Fifth Avenue is the most
alarming thing I ever saw, twenty storeys high, and
thin as a wedge. Any slight seismatic disturbance
might send the whole wedge flat on its stomach in
the middle of Madison Square.
A Branch of the Corps Diplomatic
Being thrown to the floor from his attic,
When he did see his mat,
Exclaimed, "What is that?"
They replied, " ?T is a Shock Seismatic."
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
5 p.m. 80°.
Port Antonio, Jamaica, Sunday,
December H, 1902.
dear carla, — I must get my pen and things and
begin to write you from my top veranda, I love it
so much. You have been in my mind all the after-
noon, but I have been dawdling in my room, and just
emerged in my thinnest white waist and silk stock-
ings. You know it 's a great deal hotter all the time
than it ever is at Matunuck. I just love it, and I
think I shall thrive on it, though it is enervating and
makes me lazy. But I hope it will dry out my throat
and catarrh and all my diseases; anyhow it's deli-
cious, so why not be lazy !
Do you see this point behind the ship (which is
always there for some reason) ? Well, we can row
out from these boat-houses down here, and go round
that point to the open sea, and there in the channel
little bathing-houses stand up on legs out of the ocean
with steps down, and we can go swimming in rather
shallow water on a white sand floor. This side of the
point is the channel through which all ships arrive,
374 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
amongst others Us, and as we came sailing in last
Monday, just after sunrise, we came past this lovely
lawn with the boat-houses, cocoanut palms, mango
trees, grass to the water's edge, with a little brook
rippling down to the sea, all sparkling with ferns,
and lo! it all belongs to the Hotel Tichfield, where
I am still staying. I became so enamoured of it
from the first glance that I didn't want to go any-
where else; and as I like it more and more, my
present plan is to stop right here until after Christ-
mas, before seeing any more places; you see I have
lots of time to put in before April. I am, so to speak,
alone, but people are raised up to me all the time.
I went to church to-day with Hopkins of the
United Fruit Company, to hear Rev. F. B. Myers
of England address the Methodists ; they are darkies
all, and it was extremely interesting. He is a hand-
some man, about sixty, I should think, and he
(wisely) spoke in a dramatic sort of high-coloured
way to touch their emotions. He has beautiful hands,
and used them a great deal. It was a sort of passion-
ate glowing description of the Christ as the Saviour
of men; his words were beautiful and moving. To
tell the truth, I did n't think he affected his audience
anything much. Perhaps I am wrong. They were
splendid-looking, well-to-do " nagurs," mostly girls,
dressed in the latest style, pink shirt-waists, sailor
hats, white kid gloves ! ( I had mine in my hand, so
hot.) The young men in Tuxedos, four-in-hands,
panamas. The singing was fine, a yang-yang played
by a coloured lady, and a choir up in the loft, of a
dozen girls; but the whole congregation sang (our
familiar tunes) and none hit a wrong note, the young
men joining, even leading, with fine voices and good
enunciation.
It 's suddenly pitch dark (no twilight) and I must
stop.
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 375
Monday morning.
Good morning, dear Carla. Now I want to tell
you about these nights, they are kind of uncanny,
so hot, windows wide open, door open, with a slat-
door hooked. There are no outside blinds or shades
to darken this big window, only these fluffy white
figured muslin curtains, very fresh and clean, put
up the day I came, and there is never a speck of
dust anywhere in the house. So when I get into
bed (80°), I lie and look out on the lovely opal sky;
the moon is full now, and it 's almost light out there.
Through one half-window, the branches of a sort of
cedar tree sway and wave, in the slight breeze. Out
of the other I see the ocean, the lighthouse with a
red lantern, and tops of waving cocoanut-palms. My
curtains float in the wind; it is still, stiller than
Matunuck, with those deep caves of opal and mother-
of-pearl out there in the sky. Ain't it kind of weird ?
Well, towards dawn last night I woke up and a gale
was blowing; all my curtains on the loose, and a
pouring rain rattling down. It can't rain in, for
there are eyebrows of corrugated iron over every win-
dow. I flew out of bed, shut my windows, shut my
door, — (it had gone down to 76°) — drew my
(single) sheet around me and went to sleep. At six-
thirty, when I woke again, the rain was over, the sky
was. coppery with the sun just coming along out of
the sea. I jumped up and went for my bath, most
refreshing after rather enervating nights.
It is beautiful now, great surf rolling over the bar.
There are no flies, no mosquitoes, no occasion for
nettings or screens, all doors and windows stand open.
These deep verandas are sheltered alike from sun and
rain. It rains a dozen times a day, and makes the
green lawn sparkle. Unlike California and Mexico
there is grass everywhere, — no dust, for even the
little town has a good road through it, and besides
376 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
it 's always muddy. It is said that the mongoose has
destroyed all vermin, snakes, and things (incident-
ally all the song-birds) ; anyhow the absolutely only
thing of the sort I have seen was a Person, a most
highly respectable sort of beetle, with a pink-and-
green pattern worked down his back in cross-stitch.
By the way, I am playing with my embroidery linens
and have made some very pretty cloths for my brush
basket, etc.
Oh ! it 's lovely on my veranda this morning. The
hills so thick with foliage and the water peacock-
tinted. Do write to this hotel, as on the envelope.
I am sure it. will reach me, as I stay here over
Christmas.
Loving Susan.
To Mrs. William B. Weeden
Jamaica, December %8, 1902.
. . . A& everyone tells you, the feature of Jamaica
is its marvellous growth of verdure, beyond all the
other tropics, I believe; surely beyond any I have
seen. Don't you know California, etc., are disap-
pointing from lack of grass, — waste places wherever
there is nothing planted? Well, here something
grows like mad everywhere ; close down to the water's
edge, even the ocean surf breaks upon ferns and vines,
dipping and sparkling in the wet. We are on a sort
of channel made by an island that breaks the wind
and surf, but my veranda overlooks the open sea
beyond. That point of the island reminds me of
our point this side of Julius Landing; it is covered
with trees to the water's edge, that sort of look like
our trees, only they are mangoes and cocoanut-palms
and breadfruit and mimosa trees. . . .
Your loving Susan.
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 377
To George L. Clarke
Falmouth, Jamaica, January %1, 1903.
dear george, — . . . My letters came just as I
was leaving Browns Town for good, so I poked them
into my bag and just nibbled at them on my drive,
which was twenty-two miles in a buggy through lovely
country, sort of like Chocorua, down gradually to
sea-level; it was delightful after three weeks in a
bowl amongst mountains, to come out on the lovely
Caribbean. It is much hotter than up there, but I
love it. I am stopping over night at " Mrs. Jacobs'
Lodging," a funny place, not exactly like the Man-
hattan, but it does very well, and I won't stop to
describe it.
I received much attention from the worthies of
Browns Town, and, I am assured by the landlady,
"entirely captivated the whole place." You should
have seen my triumphal exit from the town in an
open carriage with two horses, trunk behind, small
box and rug-strap in front, receiving the homage of
the population, all the (dark) inhabitants crowding
their doorways to wave a good-bye. Eoosevelt is
nowhere.
On Tuesday my chief admirer, Dr. Miller (a
worthy man, sort of like Governor Weeden for age
and build), drove me to a reception at Judge Reece's
pen, where we had tea on the barbecue. These are
Jamaica words. Pen means a great estate, and a
" barbecue " is a huge stone platform where they dry
pimento, coffee, chocolate, etc. It serves as a great
ball-room, a piazza for tennis, shuffle-board, anything,
as the climate demands no awning nor roof. We just
sate there in easy-chairs watching the lovely sky,
orange trees bearing fruit, cocoanut-palms the same,
and all this wonderful tropic vegetation. The Reeces
are just as nice as we are, — of Scotch descent. He
378 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
is the leading Judge of Jamaica. I 'm in love with
them. The house is a huge stone building with slits
in the cellar where the blacks used to be chained in
slavery days. . . .
Your loving Susan.
To Mrs. William B. Weeden
Malvern, 2200 feet altitude, 76°.
Thursday a. m., February 19, 1903.
my dear jeanie, — It is positively wicked to
neglect so long writing you. Fact is I am swamped
with correspondence, chiefly family, and, when I am
going about I have no time to write, — but volumes
to tell you of the delights of Jamaica. Last evening,
I got a letter from Jim, and one from Mrs. Joe
Browning, and these spur me to take the pen, to tell
you, first, that I think of you very often, and of
Matunuck constantly, and am full of tearing good
spirits to think that I am so well and strong, and get-
ting ready for a fine summer with us all together.
This place might be called the " Brownings of
Jamaica," for it 's an immense farm conducted some^
what on the Robert Browning plan. It ?s an old de-
cayed coffee plantation or " pen " as they are called,
with a huge barbecue one hundred feet square. The
Great House, our lodgings, is a beautiful place,
offices, etc., on the ground-floor, and the floor above,
the only one occupied, with a huge salon and dining-
room adjoining, mahogany folding doors, mahogany
floors, mahogany beds in the (rather cramped) bed-
rooms opening on these big rooms. These (all over
Jamaica) extend up to the roof; rafters and all
showing, in this case white-washed, and scrupulously
clean. (There is no dust in Jamaica, no flies, no cob-
web visible; besides, dark ladies on all fours are al-
JAMAICA, MATUJSrUCK, EGYPT 379
ways scrubbing the floors with oranges cut up in
water, and rubbing them down with half-cocoanut-
husks. )
Scattered about the Great House are outhouses
(like Browning's barns, etc.), only of stone founda-
tions, and thatched roofs, that is, shingle, so old and
shaky that it resembles thatch. Our kitchen is one
of these houses — about as far as the boat-house —
no, — but twice as far as the dog-house — from our
dining-room. There's no chimney to the kitchen,
and all the smoke comes out of the door, — there 's
always a pig in the doorway. He don't go into the
kitchen because there 's a board put up to keep him
out. Cooks and other folks step over the board when
they have to go in. Mules, horses, cows, pigs, dogs,
cats, chickens, guinea-hens, little darkies are all loose
around the place. It never rains to speak of you
know. Great masses of bougainvillaeas, poinsettia in
blossom, orange trees bearing both blossom and fruit,
cocoanut-palms, bananas, mango trees in full bloom,
rose-pink oleanders ! are all scattered about on this
wide plateau, whence we look off over rolling country
far below us, forests, roads, little towns, with cloud
shadows and patches of sunlight on them, and then
beyond, towards the west — the high horizon — the
sea ! sometimes pearl-colour, sometimes sparkling
with sunshine, sometimes all peacock tints. The sun
sets there gloriously every evening at six-thirty, and
rises at six-thirty in at my east window, a burst of
golden glory. Now don't that sound pretty nice?
This fine estate (seven hundred and fifty acres) now
belongs to Mrs. Lawrence, a little dried-up old lady
of my age, Scotch (mixed with a touch of Jamaica),
who runs the lodging (two guineas a week). The
food is fairly good, fresh fish brought up on some-
body's head from Alligator Cove, thirteen miles be-
low, chicken excellent, etc. But why speak of food !
380 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Wait till I strike a porterhouse steak at Manhattan.
The f raits are wonderful and some of them excellent.
The "Ripley Pine/' a thing unknown in the north
and holding no resemblance to the pineapple of com-
merce there. There is no one here at present but
some nice well-bred Canadians. There was a lovely
young Englishman I lost my heart to, but he 's gone.
I have now seen a fair proportion of the different
Jamaica places, driving about in a buggy with trunk
behind and "the Angel" in front. It's rapturous;
I am never more happy than when I start off for a
thirty- or forty-mile trip. It costs a good deal (one
shilling per mile), but it's the only way to see the
Island. Beginning at Port Antonio, and at last
reaching this place, I am sure that these two are tt£
most beautiful spots on the island — the lowest and
the highest altitude ! though other ones are beautiful,
and my real passion is swimming in the Caribbean.
I have met constant hospitality and several delightful
people. ... Be forgiving and write your
Susan.
To Miss Ellen Day Hale
My Refuge, February 25, 1903.
dear nelly, — ... These you see are my simple
joys; — the chief of them is my glorious sunsets
from the corner of my veranda — every night beau-
tiful. They have a strange kind of cloud here that
comes up between the sky and me, entirely separate,
I suppose very low. It is black, black as smoke from
a soft-coal chimney, and pours up the sky like smoke,
then gets torn and jagged in great weird forms like
those Chinese demons on Japanese kakimonos, don't
you know? It makes me think no wonder these
blacks are superstitious when they see such frightful
forms in the sky. Nothing comes of it, the black
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 381
masses tear themselves to pieces and settle down to
looking like alligators and other long, flat things,
quite harmless. The stars come out and I go over to
dinner. . . .
Your happy Susan.
To Miss Mary E. Williams
'Browns Town, Jamaica, March 17, 1903.
dear moimitch, — . . . Jamaica has kept on
being just as delightful. The climate suits me abso-
lutely. My passion is driving about in a buggy with
all my pots and pans about me. I am just off the
crowning trip of all, — more than one hundred miles,
four days through beautiful and unusual country;
that called the " Cock Pit Country " so snarly with
hills and crags, ravines, swamps, waterfalls, preci-
pices, that a few roads have been but lately wriggled
through.
We started early in the mornings, David and me
and the two mules, and had only coffee and bread
(Jamaica butter is nasty). Somewhere on the road
I got the habit of buying six eggs from any old lady
we met, and while we were changing horses at the
next place, consisting generally of a fork in the road
with a house or two, I would get the eggs boiled, and
a little salt done up in a rag, and some bread. At
Tombstone a man gave me six bananas, none for sale,
but the country full of them. That day David and
I cracked our eggs on rocks, sitting above a beautiful
turquoise waterfall, by the side of a river, that went
brawling along with great tropical trees overhanging
the stream, hung with elephant' s-ears ( a twisting vine ) ,
and great cords hanging down, and gobs of orchids.
At noon very likely we found some place with a bed,
and perhaps a cup of tea, where I rested, while David
382 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
took out the horses (changed from mules at Tomb-
stone) , but nothing much to eat till lodgings at night,
and then we drove on again over great mountain-tops
with views of glorious rolling country and away —
away, the sea! So finally about sunset Wednesday
we came rolling down through beautiful arcades of
bamboo, and roads hedged with scarlet hibiscus, to
Christiana, where Dan, with his buggy, was waiting ;
Dan, the Browns Town driver, who took me hence,
two months ago to Falmouth and Montego Bay. So
that night I slept secure in the keeping of two
" coachmans " and four horses out to pasture, in Miss
Mullin's excellent lodgings, — my door open on an
up-stairs veranda (there was no window) ; outside,
the full moon gleaming on a forest of banana fronds
that shone and rustled in a soft breeze (only a sheet,
mind you!). In the morning I had coffee (after a
bath in a big tub), and when I made a face at con-
densed milk, a small, dark child rushed into a coffee
thicket and apparently caught and milked a wild cow,
for she came back with a pailful (boiled). Next day
Dan brought me here thirty miles. The whole vil-
lage came out to greet my return. It 's a dear little
place and besides, a convenient gite on this tour
which was planned for me by experts. I am resting
here, for my race is nearly run in Jamaica. On
Thursday I drive thirty miles, then by train from
Ewarton to Spanish Town, thence rail to Kingston,
thence drive across the Island to Annotto Bay, and
finally Port Antonio, where I want to stop a while
before sailing for home. Probably I shall take Wat-
son, the S. S. I came in from Philadelphia, April 14,
but things nautical in Jamaica are so uncertain; it
may not be Watson, and it may not be Philadelphia,
and it may not be the fourteenth. Anyhow it will be
Arthur's, Baltimore, by April 20, or thereabouts;
and I want to open the Matunuck House May 1.
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 383
I want to go there, shed my trunk, — my winter
clothes are smashed to an unused pulp at the bottom
of it, and my summer clothes are in rags. Then I
want to come to Thorndike to refit, and press all your
hands and have you see me with my fine Jamaica
bloom on me. The dust, and eke the water here, are
so red that my skin is also, and my hair a delicate
auburn.
All of which, dear, if all goes well, will soon be
happening. I have had a lovely winter, but begin to
hanker for " folks," and I 'm always your loving
Susan.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoob
Spanish Town, 8 a. m.,
Sunday, March M, 1903.
dear mary, — Half -sheets are very, very low in-
deed as it says in " Katinka," in fact, everything is
on the wane, my course is run, I am on the home-
track. Sweet Jamaica does not pall; on the con-
trary, I keep thinking what I shall do next time
when I come, but probably I shan't. We '11 see.
But I must " write to " your last, the prompt one.
My other March 11 letters turned up here three
days later! Oh, yes! about the old people. Yours
called up all visions of my mother, your Aunt Mary,
dear Mrs. Anna Greene, — how terribly we miss
them out of our lives ! How can we know how to
behave! We couldn't if we didn't remember them.
It 's a great loss, I tell you, for these young people to
break away from their trellises so to speak, their
props, so early in the business. I might say to aban-
don their props before they know what 's proper, but
the subject is too serious for jest. Of course I miss
my old gentlemen also beyond words. But think of
384 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
Mrs. Ticknor, fine old figure-head, and don't you re-
member the real Aunt Lucretia, dear little old lady
in a cap, with a nice laugh. The fact is we are none
of us worthy to succeed them. You see, Mary, I shall
be sixty-nine next time ; and my mother was seventy-
one when she died, so that we chiefly remember her
as a younger woman than I am now. Ain't it incredi-
ble ! Well, the only thing is we have to hang round,
and we must do the best we can. She certainly
would not have thought favourably of spending six
months in Jamaica driving round alone in a buggy
with a coloured gentleman. But what a good time
she had in her rocking-chair with us all circling
about her, and Dr. Lothrop in the evenings. Let's
see, she was about fifty-nine then ! . . .
To Eev. Edward Everett Hale
45 East Street, Kingston, Jamaica, 8 a. m.,
March 07, 1903. 78°
dear edward, — . . . So here I am at Kingston,
enfin, having put it off till the last, as a place well
abused by all tourists, — I really rather expect to
like it. It is blazing hot, and the air is lifeless,
there's an electric trolley shooting past the house,
which is in one of the principal streets. But why
say " shooting," when it goes by about once an hour
at a stealthy funereal pace. Two darks are lying on
their back on the sunny curbstone opposite, and that
is all the passing I have seen since six when I rose.
My window is east for the first time in Jamaica, and
I saw a lovely dawn with Venus and sweet little
brand-new moon just trembling with being about.
The sky was glorious at Spanish Town ; the night be-
fore, I was out in my night gown and running about
the (silent) corridors finding things — Mars was
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 385
overhead, a great cup of red molten gold, all ready to
slop over at any moment; Scorpio sprawling in the
middle of the southern sky, with the Sabre next him.
The Southern Cross upright with its pointers, and a
kind of work-bench, which I believe to be Corvus,
conspicuous in the S. E. But you never once speak
of my stars. I'm afraid they bore you. Orion is
no finer than at home, and I think our winter ones
may be as good, only you can't go out (in March) in
your night gown to study them. . . . Much love
from
Susie.
To Miss Ellen Day Hale
Red Room, 8 a. m., Matunuck, Rhode Island,
October 26, 1903.
dear nelly, — I think so much and often of writ-
ing to you that I thought I had ; and was surprised
to find you were not on the list of the accomplished.
You must know I wanted you here for these last
days of the season, but I abandoned that when I heard
of the Simeon plan, and did n't even tell you I wanted
you. Perhaps it's just as well, for the weather has
been very capricious, but when it is lovely it is so
lovely; I have never enjoyed an autumn so much,
I mean as to my situation, which has been just to my
mind. This morning, for instance, at sunrise, ten
minutes past six, I flew out of bed, ran down to open
the front door and look at the thermometer. It was
40°, with a great big sun so far south it was soon
slanting in to the red room even to the fireplace, so
I had my breakfast in the doorway. You see the sun
runs so low now, and so south, that it shines in under
the roof of the front porch almost all day long (when
it shines). But when it don't shine, — and it's just
gone behind great clouds and a wind come up, — I
386 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
have to shut the front door, pile on the logs, and stop
writing from time to time to warm my back against
the blaze. You have experienced these things with
me before. Loisy is very amenable. You see the
prolonged absence of her spouse Albert (in another
world), makes her feel really as if this was home
more than anywhere else. She putters round in the
kitchen, does our simple wash, cooks delicious things,
sews on her clothes, such as putting white-cotton
heels into my cast-off black-silk stockings, and after
dinner goes up and dresses splendidly in her black
gown and big white apron I gave her, to be ready
for afternoon-tea. Yesterday when I heard her soft,
stealthy tread on the top-stairs, I called out, " That
you, Loisy ? have you had a nap % " " No ! " said she,
" I was taking a bath." This is the more creditable
seeing that the ram is dead, you know, the tank
empty, and all the water we use hauled up-stairs by
herself. That force-pump of Papa's lifts the water
to tubs and pails front of the kitchen door by Father
Browning-power, but he will go no further. It is
really too arduous to pump it up to the tank. I have
got witch-hazel in the front window, with the sun
shining through its yellow shreds; in the corner
great chunks of nasturtium cut near the ground by
Polly, and stuck deep into my yellow bowl, grow and
blossom just like outdoors. It's quite wonderful.
The shoots put out new leaves and buds in the house,
and act perfectly contented. Weedens are still here,
they never stayed so late, and " Little Governor " was
swimming in the surf last Wednesday. Jeanie is
very nice, almost always she comes to p. m. tea, and
we sit chatting before my fire till it grows so dark she
can't see me talk. Then I light the candles and Loisy
brings the lamp, — but soon Jeanie gathers up
Barry, the big dog, and bustles off in the glowing,
fading light of the west, with a small moon above.
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 387
Then we draw the window-shades, Loisy and me, in
fact, I have pulled them down by accident, so we pin
up shawls, I read my newspapers till it's time for
my little meal on the little p. m. tea-table, of cold
breast of Cornelia (I mean her "faowls") and but-
tered toast. I am reading millions of things, new
and old, but go to bed sedulously at eight sharp.
Loisy is reading the " Peterkins " ! She thinks it
splendid about the salt in, the coffee, but I fear she
takes it rather seriously. I am surprised at her
prowess in reading. It is painful, but sure. I started
her first on the " Call of the Wild," which is splen-
did— all about a dog, you know, — and she passed
examination upon it with comments far more intel-
ligent than those of my late guest, Mrs. . . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Mes. William G. Weld
7 a.m. 72°.
Susan's Roost, Malvern, February %6, 190b.
my dear Caroline, — I will write you about my
glorious two days' drive to this place before I forget
about it. I always think of you as I am driving
along in my buggy, bolt upright, with my small trunk
strapped on behind, the Angel sitting up in front
amongst the driver's legs, and a Jamaica basket by
my side, containing my luncheon and a few oranges.
My only wrap is my light fur-tippet, and I sometimes
travel in my white wrapper, but this time I had on
my black-and-white foulard. It rained occasionally,
but there was a rug in the carriage to put over my
legs. Dan had an india-rubber cover, and if he did
get wet the sun came out and dried him up.
We started at 7 a. m. from Browns Town and drove
forty-five miles that day. The first part of the way
388 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
I went up the Cave Valley road along the side of a
sort of Canyon, winding in and out, quite civilised,
with little houses dotted along on the heights, and
some large estates. It is all wooded, you know. The
sun was just touching the hilltops when we started,
and soon came into our road and made ferns and
morning-glories, wet with dew, all sparkle. When we
got to Cave Valley it was still early. Strange to say,
this is a flat plain delivered over to sugar-cane, and
there is a sugar-mill at work there, and people cutting
the canes, and the dead stalks, like Indian corn, strew-
ing the ground. I asked a man, and he gave me a
long stalk of sugar-cane for me to gnaw the end of
it. It is rather good, almost the only sweet thing in
Jamaica that is not too sweet.
At Bowbridge we rested the horses in a cluttery
little town consisting of a row of shops with no fronts
to them. I bought a basket off a woman's head that
I liked. When I asked her if she would sell it, she
said, "No, missy." But it seems she had nothing
to do with it, for her mistress, a pretty (dark) lady
in white, stepped up and said, "Oh, yes," and or-
dered the basket off. They went into the chief de-
partment store of the place, a shed with one shelf
running along for a counter, took all the things out
of the basket, yams, I guess, and gave it to me for
a shilling. Thus I started my luncheon-basket. I
think they put their things in a pannia that was on
the side of a donkey thereabouts.
Then began the most glorious winding about in
lofty lanes along the edge of mountain-tops, looking
off over deep valleys to other hills, all clothed, you
know, with masses of foliage. This was Manchester,
a parish in the middle of the island where there is,
so to speak, not an inch of level ground. There are
low places where they have tucked bananas, but often
it is sheer precipice on either side along the road,
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 389
up and down. The mile-posts kept saying so many
miles to Kendal, but I wished to avoid Kendal, for
there it is railroad, which spoils these places, too
much like West Newton, so we turned off at Spauld-
ing and began asking the way to Mile Gully. The
post-mistress said to go a road, which we went. A
man on a donkey later on said that was wrong. The
trouble is there are two Mile Gullys. I had my (very
inadequate) map, and, in fact, we went the right
way, only it was longer than my keepers had prophe-
sied in Browns Town, and by the time we came to
the foot of an awful hill, the horses were pretty tired.
We had to pay a boy sixpence to take them by the
nose and persuade them up, while Dan walked by the
side, applying the whip. I don't say the lash, be-
cause that, which was of twine, had come off. Don't
mention this to " Cruelty to Animals," please. It
might get me into trouble. In general the darks are
very considerate of their beasts, and drive gently,
and so did Dan. At the top of the hill there was a
church, named Bethany, and, oh! the most glorious
view away over to the Santa Cruz mountains, for
we had climbed the ridge and left the Manchester
bowl behind. But here darks were engaged in mend-
ing this same dreadful road, which went ribboning
down before us. The Chief of the Menders advanced,
and in the most affable manner cried, " Welcome, my
dear friends, but I must regret that you chose this
moment, for you must see that we are engaged in
making the road for you." He is a retired army
officer, very English, here for his health, with only
a part of one lung, appointed Superintendent of
Eoads for that parish by Government He went on,
"Your friends, the Pickerings, — for I see by your
fur-tippet that you come from their Boreal Kegion
— think this the most perfect part of Jamaica." He
knewT them well. You know they came here two or
390 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
three years ago to get a clear atmosphere for inspect-
ing Eros, the new planet which is nearer the sun than
anybody else. They made lots of friends here, and
Mrs. Pickering was very popular. I believe they
were delighted with the island, but I have not seen
them since. We asked our man, who was named
Garrett, about Mile Gully, and he said, "You are
there, you are there," waving his hand, "but look
at the road." We did look at it, and I told Dan to
go aheadr through the crowd of stone-pickers, who
were making it worse in order to be better. At the
foot of the long hill we came on the Police Station
we had been told to look out for. These are fine
buildings, placed one in every parish by Govern-
ment. I think they serve as jails, and that the police
(all darks), when they meet a malefactor, just take
him by the scruff of the neck and haul him into the
station for further orders. The service is admirable
all over the island, and perfect quiet prevails.
Now you must know that our Browns Town post-
mistress had written to Lyndhurst, Mile Gully, ' to
ask Mrs. Coke to take us in at her lodging for that
night. Owing to the maiiana methods of the tropics
no answer came, but I had to write to Malvern to tell
these people here to meet me there, which I had done,
when, lo! just as I was leaving Browns Town, post-
mistress got a telegram saying there was no room at
Lyndhurst. The reason for the delay was that Ash
Wednesday being a holiday, all post-offices were shut,
and all telegrams only go from and to post-offices,
which is why it took a week for my message to go
forty-five miles. I left a telegram and a shilling to
Mrs. Coke, to say, " Miss Hale has started. Please
find lodgings near you," or words to that effect. You
can imagine I felt rather goose-flesh on approaching
her gates. However, we drove on inquiring for Lynd-
hurst. It was a good five miles from our man, who
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 391
said we were there, and two miles beyond Mile Gully
Post-office. Everybody said to drive to a big cotton-
wood tree and then straight on through the gate,
which would be open, and so it was, and we entered
an enchanting glade. It reminded me of those big
estates we drove through on the way to, you know
what, in California, only instead of live-oaks there
are mangoes and bread-fruit trees dotted about.
We came to the Great House by and by, settled in
the middle of a great pen, surrounded by its own
forest, a low, long house in a little fenced garden,
full of roses. A pretty lady came to the door, whom
I met with ample apologies. She replied rather
coldly, "I had to receive you after your telegram.
Your horses are here already," i. e., Lawrence's mules
already out at pasture along with the Coke beasts.
She showed me into the daughter's room, evacuated
for me, close by the grand salon of entrance. In fact
it was only a bluff their sending word " No room,"
and I will now say that these people are no lodging-
keepers but the Fat of the Land, as if I had driven
into Martha Williams' front yard and demanded bed
and board. It was the post-mistress's fault, and ap-
parently the way they do things here, but you can
imagine that I felt horrid. However, I so pleased
the lady and her family with my charms and native
dances that they became enamoured of me, urged me
stay longer, to come back and bring my friends, etc.,
etc. She is about fifty, slight, well dressed (she was
on her way to a tea), looked sort of like Louisa Fes-
senden. Her husband is one of the chief landowners
of the island. She has three sons and seven daugh-
ters (and I am sure it was the biggest daughter that
objected to having me come). The house is full of
glorious old mahogany, family portraits, East India
china, plenty books, a piano. We found mutual
friends, for her eldest daughter is married to Kerr,
392 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
the great exporting merchant at Port Maria, where
I have been staying at the Rectory, and they all
wanted to hear about Miss Reece's engagement to
Mr. Bovell of Port Maria (my intimate friends). I
had a cup of tea and a nap (on my four-poster, as
hard as rocks) ; at seven a very pretty dinner was
served, soup, fish, roast, grape-fruit from their own
trees, black coffee, and we chatted till I dropped with
fatigue.
At six o'clock next morning, after a good bath in
my half-calabash tub, Mrs. Coke herself brought my
coffee and egg. She and her daughters were starting
for (twenty miles) Mandeville, where they go every
Saturday to market, to take a music lesson and some
other kind of lesson. She had sent word by her man
to tell my man to bring up my mules at the same time.
Her husband, who had been dining somewhere and
returned at midnight, put me in my buggy, and I
was off before seven o'clock. Meantime Dan, with
my other team, had departed at midnight for Browns
Town. So Jacky, me, and the mules started for Mal-
vern over the ridge and down Bogue Hill, through
the Savannahs and up to Lacovia, thence to this place
(I must take another half-sheet). Mrs. Coke put
me up a luncheon of minced-egg sandwiches, cold
chicken, grape-fruit, and I brought along for her
little daughter, who is at school not far from here,
a big basket of oranges and her umbrella, which she
had forgotten at home. The dreadful part of this
was that it was impossible to pay for my lodgings
(as, of course, I intended). I had to say something
about it, but Mrs. Coke waved me aside as a thing
of no moment, and I could only express my shame
at intruding, so I was glad to be a beast of burden
to convey these things to the daughter, especially as
it occasioned me no inconvenience. But this is true
Jamaica. The people are just as hospitable as they
JAMAICA, MAIILNUCK, EGYPT 393
can be, and, as a matter of fact, they thirst to see
( decent) people from the outside world. Fancy ! Mrs.
Coke has never been to Port Maria where her daugh-
ter lives, nor Montego Bay, nor to any of the places
I have seen in Jamaica, except Kingston, where they
now can go by rail. The railroad cuts through the
middle of their grounds, but it is so remote that you
neither hear, see, nor smell it. To be sure there is but
one train each way daily, and the station is three
miles off.
Jacky and me changed mules for horses at Barton's
Isles down below. Along there we began to see the
sea, but lost it again to climby-climby the Santa Cruz
mountains. It was two o'clock when we got here —
over ninety miles in the two days. I love it. I mean
to have one more go in the buggy before I leave the
island.
And here it is rapturous, as I wrote you last year,
no doubt. At present Eev. Chaney and Mrs. are
here, as delighted as I am with the climate, the view,
the people, the animals and all. I have your letter
of January 25. I am very bad about writing this
year. No time ! I will try now to do better.
Loving Susie.
To Miss Mary E. Williams
Lucea, Jamaica, Tuesday, March 15, 190 h.
dear mamie, — You must know that as I drive,
alone, in my buggy, it often happens that I have some
one particular person with me, and all my thoughts
sort of take the form of telling that person what I
see and enjoy on the road. You were that person
yesterday, so now I will try to tell you about it, but,
of course, all my brilliant thoughts have escaped me
by this time. . . .
Now, you see, I have been staying at a place called
394 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Mackfield for two or three days, and there I had a
funny time. It is a beautiful " hotel" high up on
a little mountain, remote from the world, with a
parapet built all round the really ancient house, like
a castle, and a glorious view, for miles away, looking
down into valleys over beautiful forests. Judge
Burke advised me to go there; they are just moved
there from Malvern, and when I reached my lofty
castle the people showed me the Burkes' house down
below, as we look down on Weedens' — only this is
much higher. I was enraptured with my room on the
battlement looking off over the abyss, there was ab-
solutely nobody else in the house except the very
affable landlady, Mrs. Munroe, and her spouse, —
for the servants are always poked off into remote
holes. But in the p. m. Mrs. Burke, a pretty lady of
a good Jamaica family (white), took me to drive, and
she told me such yarns about the place that I got
quite scared (not really, but perhaps a little nervous).
It appears the woman's husband has a dreadful tem-
per, beats his wife, maltreats the servants, takes all
the money. Now I had thought him quite a beauti-
ful man, ugly, but with a courtly bearing, very polite
to me, pointing out things in the landscape, so I had
confided everything to him, and engaged his horses
to take me thence to this place on Monday, — but
Mrs. Burke said that was dreadful, that he had no
horses, had no decent carriage, had no driver. So
I went to bed that night imagining all sorts of things.
It is the still-est place I ever was in, silence embodied,
I lay awake, expecting to hear shrieks, — and won-
dering how I could escape from the place, especially
as I was a little short of money, having been now
more than a month away from banks and credit.
But Mr. Burke, when he came home for Sunday,
fixed me all up (took my American check). I guess
he gave his wife a wigging for scaring me, and it
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 395
was rather foolish of her, seeing it was his advice
that took me to the place. She had had a row with
Munroes, something about a slop-pail; Burkes are
living in a house belonging to Monroes, supposed to
be furnished, but not. However, I must confess that
I got off early yesterday with a feeling like that of
escaping from a robber's den, or rather an ogre's
castle. The ogre was affable to the last, he smiled
gently with his one tooth, receipted the bill which
was most moderate, fastened my things on the buggy
(a very comfortable one), his wife almost shed tears,
the servants stood about pressing my shilling apiece
close to their palms. " Mr. Duer," a very respectable
coachman, borrowed for the occasion, took the reins,
and we drove off. Nothing sinister happened twenty-
six miles to this place, one of the horses stumbled
once going down a hill, but that might occur any time.
The road was enchanting through immense estates,
grass-grown, with ruts between. Here, all Jamaica
is really divided into great ancestral pens (which
have changed hands for the most part), and even the
Government roads pass through them by gates at
either end, as if we should drive to New York from
Boston through your place, and see your hens as we
passed by. So that was how I escaped from the
ogre's castle, not thrown into his dungeon at all, but
with feelings of real regret.
Now I want to tell you about their hens, for you
are a hen-ist. It was my chief joy at Mackfield to
see them go to bed in a tree. It's a small orange
tree that has grown up from the abyss, and is rather
near this parapet, and every night these ridiculous
hens come and crane their necks, and fear to fly, and
cluck, and go away and come back, and finally, one
by one, makes a great clumsy leap and lands, bounce !
in the middle of earlier comers. Finally the cock,
with equal hesitation, but a great air of bravery,
396
LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
makes a spring with a squawk, and comes down
kechunk! on a mass of hens, his legs slip down
amongst them, he gives one crow to announce to the
world that he and his family are turned in, then he
spreads himself over them like a bed-quilt, and all
^£
*c;
is still. Strange fruit for a small orange tree. Do
yours do so ? Other cocks in the neighbourhood were
marshalling their hens into other trees with the same
mental agitation and tumult. . . .
Loving Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Matunuck, Khode Island, May 16, 1904.
7 a.m. 50°. Wind west but raw with fogs.
nelly, — The first thing I did on Saturday was
to take down " Henrietta " by Charlotte Lennox and
read it straight through. I had been longing to do
this to refute the slighting remarks of little Master
Dobson in his preface to " Miss Burney " about Len-
nox. Bet &ve cents he never read the book, and / say
it is remarkably sprightly and clever. Anyhow I made
the " Elder Blows " roar with laughter when I read
it to them in Mrs. Olmsted's house some centuries
ago. Of course, that might have been my wit — but
not all. There 's a scene in a stage-coach worth pre-
serving as a picture of the times, and the characters
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 397
are excellent throughout. Of course I skipped Hen-
rietta's previous history which she related between
pages 41-176, at one sitting.
However, that's no consequence. Mister Brown-
ing says I 'm remarkable. He don't know as he ever
see a gyirl of twenty ser spry as I be, — and he hopes
I '11 continner so. He just delivered himself of these
remarks on the occasion of bringing in cedar sticks
left from the old fence, for there's a new one all
along the place from the Libr'y to Goodchildses. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Maey B. Dustsmoor
Matunuck, Ehode Island, June, 190 J^.
... So I have invented reading in bed with my
table shoved to overlap the pillows, with an excellent
candle on it. There till nine "close couched" with
the thicket, of course, shedding cold dews and wild
flowers on my head, I hear the baffled pack down-
stairs, or hawking up to bed themselves at nine.
Then out goes my candle, and me — to sleep. Thus
I have enjoyed the "Singular Miss Smith." Have
you read it ? It is quite a book or rather a skit, with
singular lapses in construction. I wish I knew what
you would think of it. I am now reading " Wings
of the Morning," a rank tale of shipwreck. Eobinson
Crusoe "isn't in it" compared to the lady and her
man who found palm-trees and turtles' eggs and oc-
topuses and a well-built two-storey apartment, all
ready made after going to pieces in a great steamer.
Before " The Chosen " came (have you read " Bene-
factress"?), I was steeped in Bernard Shaw. I am
always fairly well posted, but now I have bought
and read all his plays "pleasant or unpleasant."
This came from seeing " Candida " in Boston.
398 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Our great event is Carla Atkinson's arrival. You
know she has bought a piece of land from Mr.
Weeden, and built a little house on top of a hill
overlooking Perch Cove, — sort of on the way over
to " No thoroughfare " and Hannah's cart-track.
There are seven cot-beds in it, and therefore room for
a " week-end " party of seven, including the cook,
over July 4. It is very cosy, pretty, simple, modern,
and Carla is very happy, — so nice to have this taste
of matrimony, so to speak, without the incumbrance
of man. People give her setting-up presents, cups and
saucers, a settle that becomes a dinner table, and the
like, and she consults me on the subject of lamb and
butter. There was great cause for anxiety about
water and the neighbours were sure there " worn't '
none to be got on that hill. To their dismay (I mean
the neighbours') the men boring (I mean boring the
hole not our ears with lamentations) struck water at
one hundred and seventy feet. In fact they've got down
to China, as I have expressed it, and are now drink-
ing Oolong tea. She is to have a wind-mill, and is
getting five gallons a minute, and can, if she wants,
have a perpetual fountain as high as her house. She
has one maid (who cooks), who used to live in the
Atkinson family, an excellent buxom person, named
Statia, who goes to church with my gilt-edged ladies.
And why should I refrain from saying that my Nelly
O'Brien is the sweetest thing you ever saw, rosy
cheeks, white teeth, bright eyes, invented by her
mother, who is my General Purveyor of Help. In
fact, when I lift mine eyes, it is not to the hills
whence cometh my help, but to Mrs. O'Brien, a
coachman's wife with a large family, cross-eyed, ac-
quainted not only with grief (her husband drinks —
some), but with all the gilt-edged ladies who work on
Back Bay. Old Mary Mullin conceived the idea of
bringing this Nelly (aged nineteen, this is her first
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 399
place) to be my chambermaid, and Mary holds her
in the hollow of her hand, to do half her work; in-
cidentally allowing her to make the beds and (some-
times) hook my gown under the left arm where I
can't reach. Loisy meanwhile cooks serenely, and the
deceased sister's husband is the comfort of my life,
doing all those things that Father Browning ought to
have done. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
dear carla, — I keep forgetting to tell you that
you owe me nine dollars for nine legs of lamb. I
think it has worked very well. This is your lamb,
poor thing, a mere skeleton, all hind legs, while Rose's
are all "fores."
What a nice time we had at dinner! I am fine
to-day. No roaring ears, perfectly normal.
Loving Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, Michaelmas
Day, September W, 190^
dear sister, — The bridge is in my head, and a
"Bridge of Size," as well as a "Bridge of Sighs,"
indeed. It hurt awfully having it in, it cuts the
gums so, you know, and in fact the whole side of my
face was very full of pain until I went to sleep at
400 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
night. Perhaps the jogging of the train was sooth-
ing, bnt I did n't feel so, exactly.
However, all was rapture here. The pond which
I left a sere green is all aflame with scarlet and yel-
low reflected, at six this morning, in glass. Polly
says it changed all in one night with the cold snap.
Lonise hadn't ate the duck, at all, and her George
had dug oysters down to the Salt Ponds, so I had a
delicious stew of them, very grateful to my abraded
palate (and a small slice of cold duck) at five, with
a cup of tea. Bed at seven-thirty after a chat with
Mr. Weeden and Polly in front of my nice little fire
and the two cats. . . .
I will stop now on this, as my head is rather buzz-
ing with recent travel and jig-saws in my mouth. . . .
Dr. Piper was full of compliments for my " forti-
tude," as he calls it. How can a person shriek or any
of those things with a head full of napkins tied down
by garters.
Affectionately yours,
Susie.
It was very nice for us to be all together, was n't it ?
To Mes. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Khode Island, October 3, 1904"
Caroline dear, — I had a regular circus in Boston
with my dentist, had to stay a week, longer than I
intended or desired. But I have a fine mouthful
of teeth now that will last me out, and quite remark-
able he says for a lady of my age. . . .
I had a horrible time. You see a tooth broke in the
back of my head, the mainstay of my celebrated
w bridge." The dentist decided to move all my chew-
ing machinery to the other side of my mouth;
whereon he moved in there himself, taking buzz-saws
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 401
and chewing-gum and rubber pipes and table-cloths,
and remained there four days. When he came out,
rather exhausted, I was a wreck but the results are
excellent.
Write, write!
Your loving Susie.
To William B. Weeden
Matunuck, Rhode Island.
dear mr. weeden, — In our family conference, I
forgot to say that I have accomplished " The Chippen-
dales. " I now return them with thanks. The book
is really very clever, and wonderfully accurate. The
only question I ask is, if it ?s worth while ; moreover,
the last fifty to one hundred pages are clear, sheer
rubbish ; I feel as if whatever Wards, Wigglesworths,
Warrens, Quincys of Park Street exist must tremble
lest their fine old ancestors turn in their graves at
the rumour even of that surreptitious child being
born " in their midst," and come forth to refute the
charge. However, I have been very much entertained
by the book, and it puts me back in the early fifties
(mine and the century's) when I was in the thick
of it.
Always yours,
Susan.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Dahabieh " Aziz," off El Kab,
February 1, 1905.
my dearest Caroline, — We are frozen to death,
chilled to the bone, quaking in every limb, and drift-
ing down river hind-side before, against a howling
north wind, which is taking native boats joyously
up to Assouan. But we have been there and done
402 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
it, and want now to get back to Cairo, for our time
is up, and the bottom has come out, not of the Nile,
but of our delightful, dawdling, amazing (but not
warm) trip, since December 16, when we left Cairo.
I have your splendid letter of December 18 received
coming up river 16th of January at Luxor (where,
by the way, our letters are again accumulating). I
kind of envy you in Boston, in your nice warm house
with every kind of artificial heat at your back, but
I hate to have you stay there all winter. You must
not let go of travelling. I hope to have many another
good spin with you and Louisa, if ever I get out of
this scrape ! — not but what it 's a good scrape, as you
know. . . . But this is not describing the camel or
the palm, for which see my letters thirty-five years
ago, when I did them full justice. They are right
here all the same, and so are the temples ; but how the
towns are changed, Cairo, Luxor, Assouan, mere
replicas of Paris, and, alas ! and, alas ! for Philse.
Was the barrage done when you were up last ? We
rowed into the bed of Pharaoh, as if it were a bath-
tub. Cleopatra was holding up her petticoats and
Horus preparing for a dive. We had a jovial picnic
day there (I suppose you did) ; going by rail to
Shellah, then in a native boat, amidst yelling and
fighting to the Temples, then rowed to the barrage,
which we climbed up on, and Mrs. P. and I were
trundled in a little car, the others walking, over rails,
the one and a quarter miles long it is, to the locks,
where there is a bungalow for the engineers. There
our dragoman, Sala, was in his glory. We had a de-
licious luncheon on the yellow sands, and saw a great
steamer go up through the lock. Then other Nubians
rowed us down the old cataracts (what is left of them)
to the town again past yellow sands and great, black,
gleaming rocks, and through turbulent waters to our
cosy boat, a real home to come back to, where we daily
JAMAICA, MATTOrUCK, EGYPT 403
watch the sunset after p. m. tea on the divans of our
pretty upper deck.
Then we had visitors (and at Luxor as well), the
Whitehouse parents of Remson are there and came to
tea. They are dears, and have been to all the places
we have, and settled down on Assouan as the best
(I think it is a loathely spot). Then we had two of
the five Hooper girls to luncheon (dear old Dr.
Hooper's grandchildren). Two are married, three
are here, they travel round together with no chap-
erone. JSTo doubt there is safety in numbers. One
wants to know about stars and I told her.
At Luxor were the Lindon Smiths (he that bought
the " Velasquez " for Boston) travelling, no, living,
with his Pa and Ma, his pretty wife (a G. P. Put-
nam), their two little girls and a doll, living very
cheaply in a dahabieh, and copying Horus and
Ramses off the walls of Karnak. He is a great friend
of Russell Sullivan. She is by the way of being a
beauty. They dined with us, and so did Mr. Preble,
who is travelling with his aunt, who is eighty, Mrs.
Sweet, and pays the bills. My friends the Theodore
Davises are at Luxor still, tied up on the opposite
bank, because he has business with Queen Hatasu
over there in the Tombs of the Kings. I love them
all, I mean the party Davis, and wish I could be more
with them. But we have settled down very comfort-
ably to our vie a quatre. The Longfellows are old
Nile-ists (their sixth or seventh trip up river), so
they are as biases as I am about cartouches and things,
and we are doing the smallest possible amount of
Temples and donkeys . . . but Mrs. Perkins is full
of enthusiasm and goes to everything, reads Amelia B.
and Baedeker, and keeps us up to the mark. Ernest
is an amusing fellow. We have lots of jokes and fun,
read aloud, and dawdle. I will write some more when
our future plans crystallise. Loving Susan.
404 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Mary E. Williams
Ha! Escaped from the Nile!
Dampfer Schleswig, March 10, 1905.
dearest moimitch, — You shall have this letter.
Never was anyone so bad as I have been about writ-
ing. It was so to speak impossible on the Nile,
cabined, close, confined ; — but now !
Susan is herself again, her foot on
her native Mediterranean. Let joy
be unconfined.
I found your dear letter in Cairo,
of February 14, on March 30 ; was n't
it quick by the way? One obstacle
to writing on the Nile was receiving no letters.
I got them all, except three times in eleven weeks, in
a bunch on arrival. We stopped at Shepheards a
week, came off on Wednesday for this ship. We are
on our way to Marseilles and thence across to Algeria,
where we shall be about a month, then back to Cannes,
in April, to get my night gowns and see lovely quince
blossoms and things, then Paris for a week or so, then
to snatch some steamer for home about May 1. The
winter is over, and these remaining weeks will slide
off like turtles from a rock in my pond. Only words,
dear Mamie, will describe my experiences; I will
promise to be very funny when we meet. ... It has
been (honest) a charming winter and very salutary,
and since the weather turned warm I have been
happy, but you know those first weeks on the river
were really anguish when I prepared my little nest
of fur every night in my cabin, and quaked every
sunrise in my ice-cold bath. But I'm all right
now. My celebrated good physique has carried
me through. . . .
I think I must tell you about our leaving our Aziz,
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 405
the dahabieh — Longfellows', with their maid, got
off early, we lingered partly to finish, and partly to
have our dear sailors to ourselves. We shook hands
with them all on their lower deck. They adore
Evelyn, she has been very nice about turbans, back-
sheesh, tobacco, etc., while I have amused them
greatly by my native dances-— ten sailors, the reis,
the second reis, the Nubian cook, the cook boy, —
Bed-riddin, the waiter, — Mahommed, the singer, —
all these in red turbans with wistful eyes, gleaming
teeth, — came up the bank after us and crowded
round the carriage, while Saleh, the dragoman, in-
terpreted for us. " Saleh," said I, " tell them we love
them all." A shout arose from them — they touched
their foreheads, some say there were tears in Yellow
Jacket's eyes. My Mohammed Said, a sweet boy
with slender, buff legs, who always held on to me
tight, crossing the gangplank or going to see Temples,
had departed with the trunks, — but I had him after-
wards in the hotel, and gave him twenty piastres. He
is about sixteen, and has a wife and two children.
We shall miss these creatures, they are children, so
simple. I call them our toys which we have played
with all winter; and now they are put back in their
box. I think of putting George Jones, Loisy's spouse,
into turban and gown; wouldn't you?
Speaking of Davis, you know he has dug up Queen
Tii, the mother-in-law or something of Amenhotep II,
a great " find," with a chariot in excellent condition,
a tablet with conversation on it, all manner of things.
It is said that Theodore fainted three times with
excitement (or more likely the bad air) when he first
entered the tomb. They are now coming down the
river, but waltzing round as we did probably in ad-
verse winds. You know I became very fond of him.
He calls me " Aunt Susan," and in an occasional jest,
I call him Theodore. . . .
406 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
I have been terribly afraid old age would set in;
but now I believe I shall hold out to get home. Lots
of love from
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
and
Miss Mary E. Williams
Manhattan, May 18, 1905.
MY DEAREST GIRLS, BOTH IN A BUNCH, 1 am SO
joyous I must write you at once. It almost frightens
me to have things go my way so splendidly as they
seem to do. I feel as if I must knock wood all the
time to keep the charm up. I have arrived this
minute, that 's half-past ten, and it is now just twelve.
I only waited to get this paper out of my Angel, to
tell you all about it. Your dear letters of 14th were
both here, with others reassuring me about the safety
and health of everybody. One is always nervous just
on arriving, don't you think so ? But Parber writes
in fine spirits, so I think everybody must be alive,
though he don't mention it. (Lovely whistles and
things screeching for noon o'clock.)
In the first place I have had a rapturous voyage as
to comfort, with my cabin all to myself, and more-
over everybody on the ship fell to adoring me, I never
was so " muched " in my life, let alone stewards and
" Bad Fraus " that jumped and ran to do my things.
There is absolutely no doubt I was the belle of the
ship. Very few men, — which was tedious, — and
the women of a bighly cultured type, which
bored me, but I could sit in my cabin alone and do
my cross-stitch, and read a most dreadfully vile
French novel by Marcel Prevost, and an appallingly
dull one, Italian, by Deledda, the Sardine. Last
evening there were speeches, and I was called upon
JAMAICA, MATUNUCK, EGYPT 407
for one, and sang " Coming through the Rye " with
a small German flag that happened to be stuck in my
hair, I forgot it was there. I am told that I saved
the occasion by doing so. You will think I am dread-
fully stuck up, but I am really meek and lowly old
womans. Then I had a beautiful smooth time
through the Douane, though my trunk was foaming
to the top with contraband night gowns and little
petticoats, not to say mouchoirs all marked with my
name, and pink ribbons run into them; for the cus-
tomary man didn't mind them in the least, said I
might 'a had more. So I jumped into a carriage
with all my goods piled up, and waved at the literary
females on their knees before their trunks, and just
as we came out of the warehouses, the sun came out
and made even Hoboken look like a Garden of Spring
Paradise. I caused the driver to open the carriage,
and there I sate in a fluffy white boa I have, it cost
seven francs fifty in Cannes, and drove up town to the
admiration of the provincial New Yorkers. And here
I was received most cordially, my telegram (from the
Avharf ) had just arrived, and my favourite No. 604
assigned to me. So I came up and read my nice let-
ters, and took my night gowns out and looked at
them, and now I am writing this. I don't feel half
so addled in the head as I usually do, coming off the
voyage, but quite equal to going about my business.
It is warm, the window open and the river all hazy,
and steam coming out of chimneys. . . .
Your joyous Susan.
CHAPTER XII
LAST YEARS
(1906-1910)
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Montego Bay, January 19, 1906.
7:30 a.m.
dear nelly, — Whatever else happens I must
begin my adventures. ... I want to tell about
Ulster Springs, where I was reminded, and kept
thinking, strange to say, of your little house at Santa
Barbara and the fun we had there with an oil-stove.
But first, the getting off from Browns Town. Oh
Heavens, it was high time, for I was becoming so
terribly popular (on account of my shillings, soon
reduced to sixpences) that the whole populace
swarmed around the lodgings, this is slightly figura-
tive. But literally, after I got dressed and trunks
locked, my hat on, and sate in the veranda, at every
moment somebody came with small flowers, or a de-
mand of some sort. I had a kind of breakfast at
nine-thirty, and at ten mounted my buggy, sur-
rounded by Dr. Miller, Gauntelett, Judge Cole, Mrs.
Smith, Mrs. Smythe, Mrs. Taafe, and all the darks
(Susan, Nora, Letty, Nancy, Cecil, and more I can-
not name).
" Start up, Dan ! " I said, and we rolled out of the
yard towards Stewart Town. You know I am never
so happy as when I thus escape from my keepers,
free for hours from the clash of twaddly conversa-
tion; in my cool wash-gown, my serape under me in
LAST YEAKS 409
case of rain, the Angel strapped behind; my trunk
gone to S. S. Delta to come by sea (it hasn't arrived,
by the way, but it will, no doubt).
That drive was lovely up to Ulster Springs. I
have long wanted to see it. We passed Mahogany
Hall, a fine old estate ; there 's a picture of it in that
book I 've got, — Dr. Johnson's Guide Book ; then
we began to climb, climb, this is in the cock-pit
country, you know, so snarly with hills and canyons
there are no roads but this, that clings to the cliff;
when we were rounding the curve we looked up across
the chasm to the palisades up there, sheer rocks bright
orange colour, like iron-rust in coral, and by and by
lo ! we were up there, but all the time driving through
thick woods, looking down on the tops of huge trees
on one side, and up to the roots of others on the other.
Yet in the middle sort of chasm there are hilltops
with houses, and goats going up to them. The forest-
side is rampant with ferns ; a wall, thick with them,
and some flowers, especially the wild begonia, every-
where, much prettier than our house-pot one, its little
earrings are brightest carmine and the other pale
pink, and it grows more like a vine. Well, it 's about
twenty-two miles up to Ulster Springs from Browns
Town, and naturally it's at the top of everything,
gloriously looking off over mountains rather distant.
Now you must know Miss Moses is the post-mistress
there, and she wrote to beg me to come and put up
with her (no lodgings) at her post-office. So we drew
up before the sweetest little house, this is what re-
minded me of yours, all covered with purple (mauve)
Thunbergia, the blossoms as big as a tea-cup. This
picture is the whole of the house. The window is
the post-office on a veranda with steps; a door leads
into a sitting room (with a piano!) that takes up all
the house concealed by a vine, but back of the post-
office is a tiny bedroom, where they had conceived
410 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
I should sleep, and a sort of passageway where a
sweet dinner table was already set with all the
luxuries of the season. It was about 3 p. m. The
only light of the little place was the door with steps
leading down to the kitchen across the yard. I had
a nap on the little very hard bed in the bedroom.
Well Anne Moses is twenty-four, she says; she is
quite like Mrs. Joe Browning, you know, librarian
at Matunuck, very sweet in manner, intelligent, and
a power in the place. She has two friends who came
in to help cook the dinner and serve it, not in the
least menial spirit — for after the meal they all re-
tired by turns to this tiny bedroom, and put on rich
shirt-waists with pink skirts and did their hair and
hung themselves about with beads. I took greatly to
these girls, they were so wholesome and nice and had
taken such pains for me, and Lena had made the
pudding and there was cake, and mounds of fruit
which I brought away with me in a* newspaper. Miss
Moses is a worker, runs the town as well as P. O., I
should think. She owns two or three cows which
have calves from time to time, as a good investment
of her earnings. She is to be promoted to Springs
P. O., so she will never be there again. While we
sate under the Thunbergia vine, people came on
horses, donkeys, or legs, to get their letters, and I
amused myself by telephoning back to Browns Town
how happy I was — we telephoned to Miss Scott and
her aid, the P. O. mistress there, and could hear them
chuckling over my message, which they straightway
communicated to the lodgings. Was n't this fun !
But meanwhile, Judge Cole had written to the
Sergeant of Police that I was to sleep in the Court
House, and though this was a disappointment to my
girls, the glory of it was such they could not gainsay
it, so after a stroll in the gloaming, they escorted me
thither and left me pretty early, as I was tired-er
LAST YEARS 411
than dogs, but shortly after they left, their minion
came up my steps with a tray and hot coffee, as a
sleeping cup !
Now for the night. The great big stone Court
House with not a soul in it or near it, on the highest
point of Ulster Springs, looking off on glorious stars
and mountains, none of the doors were locked, and
my room opened into the great court-room, where the
judge sits in his wig, and judges. In the middle
of the night I came out and prowled and looked at
the stars from the outer door, which I left open all
night. The bed delicious, a rapturous dream of ease.
At dawn, which isn't very early now, I came out
and found the east veranda commanded a glorious
view. Mrs. Brooks, a deaf lady with one tooth, was
rather late in turning up to bring my bath in a cala-
bash, which she set down in the room where criminals
wait for judgment; because that floor is only common
boards she didn't mind slopping on, — and after-
wards she made some rather poor coffee, which I
sipped in the sunrise. Dan, it seems, was sleeping
in my buggy under the shed outside (not having
friends at Court as I did). He put in the horses,
and we came off (a shilling pressed in the hand of
the old lady) stopping at P. O. for another and better
cup of coffee Miss Moses insisted on preparing for
me. She would not take any pay for the lodgings : —
but I bought a piece of drawn-work they made
amongst them. Now warn't that fun! Later: —
9 a. m. Same Day. — Nothing doing in this excel-
lent house, so I will fatten this letter, as Lucre ti a
used to say, and send it double.
Again the drive was beautiful, repeating the same
as far as Mahogany Hall, for Ulster Springs is the
end of all things in the other direction. It had
rained, and mist was hanging over things, in fact
it was quite cool for here. We came down through
412 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Duncan Town to the well-known (by me) road that
runs all along the north side of the island, and came
to Falmouth by noon ; we had started so early. Now
here was Mrs. Jacobs in her brand-new lodgings, in
a formerly bank building just opposite the Court
House. I was in Falmouth my first year, and at
Mrs. Jacobs' lodgings, it was then an awful place,
the terror of Jamaica, but she even then was a worthy
woman, deaf, with one tooth. The tooth is lost now,
so I didn't know her at first, but recognised her by
the deafness. She was in raptures to show off her
splendour, only deeply grieved I wouldn't stay, in
fact offended that I did n't, but how could I ! though
for creature comforts I would fain have lingered in
that excellent bed, in a huge room with grand old
mahogany furniture, wide windows with little hang-
ing balconies to them, the whole house to myself,
doors standing open, great mahogany doors that don't
shut very well on account of the brass knobs being
loose.
" And there 's a garret," said she with honest pride,
in showing me over the house, and climbed me up
there. The Inspector of the Port lives there, and
indeed he is to be envied his great room as big as the
whole top-story at Matunuck, with a view from Mon-
tego to Port Antonio (exaggeration) and strong sea
breeze. He used to live in a hole at her old lodgings,
which has been the only place for him to be. This
rez de chaussee used to be the bank, a great barn
sort of place, where she serves excellent meals, to
droppers-in from the town, and the Inspector. I am
her first real lodger, and she clung to me, " You
stayed a month in Browns Town ! " she lamented.
" Oh, but you know I have a great many friends in
Browns Town." " You would have as many here as
soon as it was known," said she.
You may wonder why she has this passion for me,
LAST YEARS
413
seeing I only passed one night at her horrid lodgings
in 1902; — bnt such is my fatal fascination in this
island. Miss Moses' ground for worship was merely
that I didn't stop at all at Ulster Springs, passing
through the previous time. Another good bed, and
the reason I carry on so about the bed, is, that at Dry
Harbour is a gridiron, and at Browns Town disgrace-
ful, hard and also untidy. There were two ink-spots
on my pillow by which I recognised it for ten days
before leaving. At Falmouth the sheets were of
clean, coarse linen, with the perfume of a kind of
dried sticks they have instead of lavender. I saw the
Great Bear for the first time there. You know the
Pole Star is very low, so near the tropics, and the
Bear below the line of hills generally, but at midnight
there it was reared ;
up like this over the J
Carib. Sea. A small
niece of Mrs. J. came
and bored me inces-
santly there, sitting in
my room all the p.m.
Another pale child
who lives in the P. O.
brought a cigar-box
full of her treasures to
show me, some shells
she had covered with tinfoil, a few coins consisting
of an English ha'penny, and one of our nickels, and
wanted me to buy post-cards of Falmouth, which I
had already. I didn't encourage her much, and
when she went away (I believe I told her to go
gently) I asked Niece if the other was her best friend.
" She is not my friend, I do not know her," she
replied.
But Niece was a handy little thing, she took all my
shoes, three pairs, brushed and polished them and put
414 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
fresh shoe-strings in — dreadfully disappointed when
I insisted on going away.
But Dan came round at 8 a.m. or thereabouts.
(Oh, there is a down-stairs bath at Jacobs', running
water in a great stone tank you can float in.) And
we drove along without adventure reaching here about
one o'clock. It is sugar-cane country along the way.
The cane looks just like our Indian corn, only very
likely it is ten or twelve feet high, great fields on
either side the road, very pretty, glistening with dew
in the distance. This sets the forests back against
the hills, remote, and of course a blazing sun on the
white road, but there is a sea-breeze, and in spots,
cocoanut-palms and thatched-and-wattled villages, and
little dark children playing naked in the surf. The
bay and shore approaching Montego are lovely, and
by and by we rattle through the town and up Church
Street to the hospitable house — and my worthy fat
ladies. I have described it lots of times. It is not
too hot here, everything is very comfortable, even re-
fined, the table beautifully served, lots of heavy
old family silver, too much to eat. . . .
I must leave you at last, I want to read over all
my letters.
Loving Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Malvern, February 8, 1906, 8 a.m.,
Sweet Place, " Susan's Roost."
dear nelly, — I have just written your father a
little letter for his private ear, but now I must begin
on my great yarn of adventures, some of my greatest
in Jamaica or anywhere. I have been on a horse ! !
I want to write this to you specially, for I kept think-
ing of you and our Lily (once Rogers) and what fun
we should have had out of it. As for the special
LAST YEARS 415
horse part, I want, if I don't change my mind, to
write that for Polly Weeden, if I do you shall see
that opus at Matunuck next summer. But in this I
intend to cover the whole ground of which that is
but an episode.
You see I left Orange Hill on Thursday, Febru-
ary 1, 7 a. m., just a week ago, and have not so to
speak drawn rein since. It is perfectly lovely there,
but (as usual you remark) I was glad to get away,
for there is no atom of privacy in that most excellent
house, one is continually in evidence, in fact, that is
the trouble with Jamaica travelling. If I had a com-
panion I should be less beset by over-kind hosts, —
but then, — the companion would bore me, as much
as the hosts do now.
" Miss Hale, you sneezed in the night. Alice must
close your windows this evening " — and so she did ;
of course I opened them, but everybody heard me in
the house and I was reproved next day — (but I am
wasting time). Another thing is that everybody ob-
jects to everything I mean to do, — because they want
to keep me (and my two guineas), thus: Miss Ena,
late the evening before, came out saying : " Father
says it is much farther to Windsor than you think.
It is a dreadful place to get to. He has been there ;
there is nothing to see, and it will cost you getting
there a great deal" (it did cost £2, but that was none
of their business. But I must get on). My nice
buggy was at the door, this was Thursday, at 7. Oh
another thing. It had been raining pretty consecu-
tively for a week so Miss Fanny said, " Shall you
go if it re-ans?" and Miss Julia said: "With your
cold (that sneeze) you must not go if it re-ans"
(rains). "Oh, I guess it won't rain," said I, and
sure enough it did n't and Philip of Wallace's Livery,
me and the horses, started down their terrific hill.
My trunk (this was another bone of contention) had
416 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
gone by rail to Ipswich. Alfred, of Mrs. Aaron's,
had taken it with me to the station day before, where
I paid one shilling, sixpence, and had the receipt.
It was pretty driving ont of Montego Bay, away
from the sea now, and, soon after leaving " Adelphi,"
getting into the thick woods of Trelawney. In fact
it is twenty-two miles, and with, our good horses took
just four hours, without the slightest fatigue. We
went through the gates of Windsor Pen five miles,
before reaching the Great House, all the way over a
road all grass except red ruts for the horses, immense
great trees on every side, and their own cattle graz-
ing. By and by a brawling river was flowing along,
deep malachite or rather jade, with swirling curves,
overhung with rose-apple, a sort of willow they have
for such purposes. An inner gate brought us to the
Common, about as big as Boston Common, and at the
back of it, framed in forest the sweet house where
the J. Donald Hills live, sweet people I met by
chance at Browns Town, where they came to a ball,
perhaps I told you. She was determined to have me
see Windsor, and here I was. They are entirely
Scotch, not a Jamaica touch about them. I have
never lived with such a real Scotch accent as theirs,
they have scones, and all sorts of Scotch practices.
Very refined, intelligent, in fact delightful people;
she is small and very gentle with large blue eyes, her
manner as gentle as Mrs. Matlack, though she is the
most determined little creature, she rules him with
a rod of iron, and you will see how she put me
through. She has had seven children, six alive, three
girls now in Elgin, Scotland, at school, two nice little
things here at Windsor, and a great big boy on his
bare legs, about to be two on the last day of Febru-
ary. All happy, joyous, well employed, healthy, no
Jamaica malarial repining. As for J. Donald, he is
a perfect dear. He is more like Mr. Weeden than
LAST YEARS 417
anything else, — but a Scotch edition, you under-
stand. When he goes out in the morning to look after
cattle (over one hundred head of various beasts) all
the hens tag after him, and it seems part of his busi-
ness to give them water out of a cocoanut-husk on top
of a wall; he is here, but not
always dressed in an old yel-
low jacket with sort of pink
fustian breeches, and shocking
boots which he kicks off, and ^-<^wr
puts on others, on account of ^"S U/ A/
the wet grass, and he walks j^i«B^i ]| ]
with a slight crook at the knees T TS jU ' -» ' (
through being so much on a Jf v* &pfr\
horse. In fact he is generally ^^^
on a horse when the hens are following him (but this
time he happened to be on foot), and calling out
orders in a very Scotch voice, a rapturous man. But
lie reads, and thinks great things; takes the Weekly
Times and is greatly interested in their present poli-
tics. I ?m sorry to say he called Gladstone an " auld
fule," and thinks "wot a mess they made in South
Afriky." He has Green's " Short History of
England" at hand, and used to read Macaulay's
"Essays," but the print of his edition is now too
fine for him. If you could see the nature of
their lamps you wouldn't wonder. The house is a
delight, all on one floor like the others I have
described. She paints a little (pas mat) in water-
colours, and had decorative training at a school
(Scotch) like South K. Well here I remained Thurs-
day, Friday, Saturday and Sunday with the kindest
hospitable people, driving through their great pen,
calling one day (in the buggy) on the Plunketts at
Fontabelle, a large sugar estate about ten miles off
in the same forest, — J. Donald in good clothes, and
tan shoes ! — or walking in and about their own
418 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
woods — but what do you think! She made me get
up on a horse to go and see things too difficult for
walking, a terrible business to boost me there from a
chair, and to wedge my fat leg between the pommels.
The horse was most gentle, and we saw wonderful
things; I saw eight green parrots fly out of a cham-
pak tree, and I saw for the first time the way choco-
late grows, not cocoa, which seems is a root and en-
tirely different, whereas chocolate is a great tree with
flowers growing out of the bark, and great nuts in a
pod (which rats eat). Now on the Monday it was ar-
ranged that I should depart going through to Troy up
what we call a canyon, chiefly on their estate, no road
but a narrow path, and I was to go on a donkey, but
what ! ! ! at the last moment no donkey was to be had
and I was put up on Nelson, a great horse !
Here follows the account of that trip, which I mean
to write for Polly. Instead of being nine miles, to
take three hours, it was fifteen miles and took nine
hours. We constantly had to cut away trees which
had fallen across the path with a great cutlass we had,
and six or seven times did I have to get off Nelson
for them to take the
saddle off and lead him
under this great slant-
ing tree. Then I had
to stand on extinct
rocks of coral forma-
tion and be shoved by
main force up on to
Nelson again. Dear
man, J. Donald Hill,
went before on his "pow-ny," but off constantly to
tend me, then came Manuel, about Maurice's size,
with my Angel on his head, carrying my umbrella,
then Downer on foot, leading Nelson, and then me on
top of Nelson. It was very beautiful and wonderful,
LAST YEAKS 419
very climby-climby going up steep precipices, except
going down them. My hat was in a flat package
slung over Downer's shoulder. It looks finely since.
When we came out at Coventry Water, a sort of
respite where Windsor ends and Troy begins, merely
a field full of bananas, no path, — Mr. Hill returned to
his spouse and home. He, you know, never dreamed
it would be so rough, for a man from Troy had as-
sured them the bush was all cleared away (not
much!). " Oh, my," said J. Donald, "I didna
dream there could be sic nairve (nerve) in a leedy
of yore age." And when I bade him tell Mrs. Hill
I enjoyed it, he shook his head, " I shall na tell her
the half on % it were too tarrible for her to hear"
(but Downer will tell her fast enough, and more than
J. Donald knows). For we rode into the town of
Troy, in a pouring rain with thunder, and me and
Nelson made this appearance
from behind. This is my red
Algerine haik pinned round me
dripping, my hair down my
back, dripping, my combs all
lost (but one). But it was so
lovely to be pacing along a level
path, through the grass, that I
did n't mind, and there were no
inhabitants. When we came to
the P. O. I asked if there was
any letter for me, and they
yelled out "Yes," and that (the P. O.) was the
lodging, and lo! round the corner in front of the
P. O. sate David in my buggy, from Malvern, with
the horses resting in the P. O. barn. This was four-
thirty in the afternoon. My friend, Anne Moses,
post-mistress of Ulster Springs, had written to Troy
friends to look out for me. I was taken from Nelson
more dead than alive, and led up the outside stairs
420 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
streaming at every pore. That was a funny lodgings.
Guess I won't tell about it now. I had all my clothes
put in a wash-tub ; next morning, wrung out and put
in our buggy, and as we rode along, dried in the sun
at our back. Oh, but that bed was good ! Amongst
other things I was a mass of tick-bites. It stopped
raining in the night, and David and I had a lovely
morning to start; it had now become Wednesday,
7 a. m. How nice it was to be on a real road without
precipices. I had been there before, through Tre-
lawney to St. Elizabeths. We drove only fifteen miles
that day, through Balaklava to Siloah, where we put
up about noon at Mrs. Falder's lodging — that's a
funny place ; David saw my trunk sitting at Appleton
R. R. Station forwarded from Ipswich, and we picked
it up next day. When Mr. Falder came home from
" grounds," i. e., hoeing yams in the field, his occupa-
tion, he proved to be a dark man, and what! but
Uncle to Anne Moses ! of Ulster Springs P. O. He
used to live in Browns Town in the tumbledown
house opposite my lodgings with his old sister, who
was the one that used to send me little bunches of
flowers every day, and looks just like her. I got
nicely rested there, — discovered a terrific black-and-
blue spot on my pommel leg. When I came away
Mrs. Falder gave me a sweet little chair, mahogany,
I am sitting in it. So that day, Wednesday, we came
on through Y. S. Middle Quarters, Lacovia, Santa
Cruz, got here at 4 p. m. End.
Your Susie.
P. S. So don't think of worrying about me, be-
cause in the first place I am feeling perfectly all right,
and had a glorious rest last night on a hard but rap-
turous bed; when I climbed into it (it is high, four-
post mahogany) I exclaimed, " O Rock of Dundas,
cleft for me!" I saw my Scorpio and the Southern
LAST YEARS 421
Cross at about five this morning. In the second place,
I promise not to do any more rash things ; the rest of
my excursions will be either by boat round to Kings-
ton, or buggy, or rail (most precarious of all). I
think the Chaneys will be up here by and by, — to
look after me. It was a foolhardy trip, but I had no
idea of it, should not have dreamed of such an under-
taking, and the last thing I now or ever desire, is to
be on a horse. Little Mrs. J. Donald is responsible ;
and she really meant well. She had every reason to
suppose the bush had been cut, i. e., the path cleared
and then besides, they had no idea of my great age.
He knows now full well about my great weight, after
boosting me up on the horse, and lifting me down.
But everybody here says I am looking younger than
ever, and I dare say the shaking-up was good for me.
But I promise not to do it again. Besides, you know,
it will be all over long before you get this, so don't
worry.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Matunuck, Rhode Island^
September 25, 1906.
dear caela, — A perfect clay ! Why are you not
here! Sun streaming in at every pore or door.
There was a frost last night so it feels good, the sun-
shine. I have been writing mounds of letters, but
there is ten minutes yet before Alvin time. You
must, another year, stay long enough to drink this to
the lees, it 's the only dregs I like, the very bottom of
the summer. There is skurce a cow stirring; even
the " Otto's " are at rest. Just a lovely glittering
sheen of solitary sunshine from here to Block Island.
What a contrast to your stirring life ! It ?s terrible
to me to think of leaving here. . . . Good-bye.
More anon.
Loving Susan.
422 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. Charles B. Wells
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September %6, 1906.
dear mrs. wells, — I miss you so, I must write
and tell you you made the mistake of your life to go
away so soon. The weather is just perfect, spark-
ling, brilliant, sunny, the happy autumn fields like
a dream. I feel wicked to have it to myself. Loisy
is making a deep apple-pie. My " gilt-edged " ladies
have gone, and I have just been passing one hour
I should think buttoning up my back. First there
was n't any loop in the neck, so I took the darn thing
off, and made a new one. Then I started in to button
it, and the button came off and rolled away some-
where I couldn't find it. Then I found another
(wrong kind of) button and sewed that on and but-
toned it into the wrong loop. Then I couldn't un-
button that, and could n't see it in the glass. Finally
I got myself together without waiting for the mail-
man to do me up. It began with " D " what I said
when the button got lost.
I am feeling finely and hear quite as well as most
old ladies, and begin to think there is good stuff in
me yet. I am having a real rest, for I 'm Alone in
Rhode Island. . . . Much love from
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Matunuck:, Rhode Island,
October H, 1906.
oh, miss carla ! — You ought to be here ! I am
(or was) just now sitting in the porch, sun well
south, and all the sea glistening between me and
Block Island like trembling tinsel. Mr. Weeden's
LAST YEAKS 423
barn also glistens exactly the same, giving the idea
that the tide has come up to the Brury ; but as I am
not an artist any more that does not trouble me.
So still! I feel as if I and cows were the only
things in R. I., and warm, warm as summer. I have
on my green rajah and not a wrap. It's durn cold
here though, mornings ; as Loisy and I get about our
business before the sun, — and in fact high time I
was off. I am off, in that I have been packing all the
morning, that is the worst part, separating the sheep
from the goats, everything all over the house I mean
to take is in Aunt Lucretia's room, and the rest put
away, given away, or burnt up. . . .
Such a maddening time with (or without) their
bills. "Will you ask Willard to send his bill?"
" Tom, did you bring your bill ? " Seems I owe the
hox-cart ten cents for square crackers and something
else they can't remember, and that bill will be chas-
ing me round all winter, accumulating stamps in
Morocco, Asia, Cannes, and Africa. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Cannes, France, January 10, 1907.
... I am of course dressing a little doll. I
bought her in a little shop in a dreadful condition
for 1 franc, 25. I immediately cut off all her
clothes, which were coarse and cheap. Her hair came
off with her hat, and revealed a hole in her head
which went down into her stomach from which wires
come out and held all her works together, including
the wig. I stuffed her head full of self-destroying
cotton, and stuck the hair to it with Photo-Library
paste, and now she begins to look lovely. I watch the
little children going by below my window to see how
124 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
to dress her, and I have made tan stockings out of an
old shoe-string, and bought a little tube of burnt
sienna to black her shoes with. She can stand alone
now, and I am making her underclothes.
These are my simple pleasures. The food is deli-
cious, I eat lots, read wicked French novels till
9 p. m., and sleep like a top till 7 a.m. when Angele
comes in to fix my (ice-cold) bath. Sounds like
the simple life, don't it? Good preparation for
Matunuck. Lots of love from
Susan.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Hotel de la Plage, April 2, 1907.
(Pa's birthday; he's 85.)
now Caroline dear, — I have wonderful things
to relate. Dr. Mermod, a celebrated aurist, specialist
catarrhist, etc., etc., of Lausanne was to come to
Cannes for one day ; and my doctor wrote him about
me. So one day all of a sudden, while I was at
dejeuner, I got word that the great man was coming,
and lo! after waiting feverishly for him till four-
thirty, he burst in like the Angel that troubled the
waters when least expected. My doctor was here too.
A nice, round, chubby, elderly Angel he was, talking
volubly in Swiss French, so I was pretty smart, and
not deaf, to keep up with him. He did all their usual
little tricks, — with his watch, asking conundrums
across the room, and coming nearer and nearer. I
can do them pretty well now ; only suddenly he asked
something in English which astonished me so I
couldn't hear it. He said " twangtee-f arve " and I
shook my head; he meant twenty-five. Then he
darted away to catch his five-o'clock train. But was
a dear really; searched my symptoms, was truly en-
couraging, scrabbled instructions for the next eight
weeks, and left a recipe for some sour drops to take.
LAST YEARS 425
Now, my dear, the facts are these, which my doctor
had explained to me, and this one corroborates. My
ears are very good ears, and one especially better than
usual for old ladies, — what is troubling me is roar-
ing noises in my head. Seems this is a common
malady to approaching old age, — the arteries leading
to the head get stiffened, and it is more difficult for
the blood to pass through to the head, so it don't like
to do so. So the blood makes a noise going through,
and the* ears, being right there hear the noise, which
is disagreeable for me. If you give your mind to it
you will understand. It seems it is quite common to
people growing old, and all aurists know about it, and
I guess my other doctors have known, only they hated
to tell me. It was kind and wise of my Doctor
Bright to tell me. His plan was to build up my
" general health " in order to make me able to endure
it, and in fact I was (and am) getting ready to get
used to the noise, as one may and does always accus-
tom oneself to the inevitable; and Ave have, both of
us, got used to worse things than having a perpetual
steam-engine in the top of the head. But lo ! now !
comes the Man of Lausanne, and says it has in many
cases been arrested and may be in my case, with his
treatment, and my " remarkably fine physical condi-
tion," for a lady of seventy-three. It's exciting, is
it not ? They say, by the way, that I shall live twenty
years, — anyhow — and so maybe I can go and open
the Panama Canal. . . .
But I want you to know just " where I am at," for
you are my only comforter in this pass that I have
come to. . . .
426 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, July 16, 1907.
MY DEAR CAROLINE, I HlUSt give VOU a glowing
account of my circumstances, they are so fascinating ;
but you know I'm a wreck, and it's impossible to
combine time and wits to write, so I am rapidly ceas-
ing to be a Lady of Letters. In the first place I'm
deaf as a post, but that's no matter compared with
my roaring ears, which makes my head giddy, and
makes me wobble when I walk. But that 's no matter
either, compared with the fact that my cook is dead,
my celebrated Loisy ! Also, my ram is dead, the old
hydraulic ram that used to throw water from the
pond to my tank in the top of the house. I have a
brand-new (and hideous) wind-mill instead, but it
don't wind worth a cent. It comes between me and
my lovely pond, spoiling the view utterly. I see it
now from my window with its tongue hanging out,
not doing a darned thing; while Mary, my house-
maid, is hauling water in pails and tugging them up
to the top-storey to the empty tank.
I have a new waitress, a foaming idiot ; she started
in to cook, but she can't cook, so I have another, but
the new one took to her bed to-day, so Twoomey
(that's the Idiot, her name is Minnie Twoomey)
cooked the breakfast while I set the table. I 've got
the parents here, and Nelly, and Miss Clark, Pa's
secretary, and Polly Smith (nee Weeden) and her
nice little baby that Pa christened on Saturday, and
the baby's nurse, and its father, Nat. Smith, who is
a dear, and carves the turkey on Sundays.
Well, you see, I came here on the 20th June with
Mary Keating and the Foaming Idiot, and these
others came a couple of days later. Owing to Loisy' 8
decease (though her excellent husband, George, does
the chores, comes and makes the kitchen fire, cuts the
LAST YEAES 427
hay, etc., etc., every morning, and goes away) every-
thing was lost as yon may imagine, and owing to the
death of Pa Browning who (did formerly) all my er-
rands, nobody but me knew where anything came
from. After a day or two, I took to my bed, — an
awful period when there was nothing to eat in the
house, when the cook used to ask Mr. Weeden for salt
pork and give orders to the mail-man to kill a lamb,
etc. They had no carving-knives in those days,
because Loisy had hid them last year under my bro-
cade gown, locked up in the cedar clothes-chest, and it
proved I was sleeping on the saw which was put be-
tween my mattresses for the winter, on account of
rust. You can easily see that in this situation I had
to get well, and I am well ; and things are now going
like a breeze, all except the wind-mill.
I rose up from my bed one day and telegraphed
to Mrs. O'Brien, who provides me always with maids,
thus: "Must send seven-dollar cook without fail
Wednesday usual train meet Miss Nelly Back Bay
station," for Nelly and her ma were coming that day,
and they brought along the funniest little old lady
you ever saw. The first thing she did here was to
sit down in an ivy bush, and get poisoned all over ; so
her poor old face is like a volcano to look upon, but
she cooks splendidly, even better than Louisa. Of
course there was nothing in my pantry and larder for
her to cook off, with, by, through or because ; but by
dint of sending to Wakefield (five miles) by every
moving thing that was going that way, I have now
got the house full of tin pans, skewers, salt pork,
wooden pails, clothes-lines, pepper, spaghetti, corn-
starch, rolling-pins, jam, rye meal, and there is a
constant procession arriving of roasting beef, lamb,
broilers, turkeys, fish, lard, butter, and eggs. Three
cows are tethered in the cellar to be milked at any
moment and there's a new box of one dozen salad
428 LETTEKS OF SUSAN" HALE
oil, and some sand soap. What makes it the more
interesting is that (of course you know), I have no
money on account of Homestake burning up, and also
that I forget everything now, and go about with little
lists in my hand which I put down in the wrong place
all the time. There 's one comfort ; that I have some
very good clothes, and that owing to losing twenty
pounds and more, my figure is a dream of loveliness,
my hips are a regular willow-pattern. Also, our
native strawberries are just in perfection now, sl
month late, and we live on them at every meal, and
my red roses that grow up in my little lot in the
woods are late also, and Mamy Tucker brings me
great masses of them every day or two.
Pa Hale is wonderful this year, very good about
signing checks, very well and active, and, dear man,
full of compassion for me. He talks all the time to
cover the fact that I don't know what they are talk-
ing about, and is altogether a dear. He is closely
guarded by his wife, his daughter, Nelly, and his
faithful Abby, the secretary, who incidentally brings
him his early morning coffee when the Idiot has for-
gotten to get up.
I also add, for I see I 've omitted it, that my house-
maid, Mary Keating, is perfection. She is what is
called "A Superior Person,'7 and what's more, she
is superior. She takes the whole charge of the top-
storey, and all the beds and bed-linen, the wash and
all that in them is, and besides that, does all that I
fail to do when I have temporarily lost my mind.
Write me how you like this letter, and believe that
I am as ever
Youk joyous Susy.
LAST YEARS 429
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Matunuck, Rhode Island, August 5, 1907,
... I am pretty well now, and only rather deaf,
compared with your dear mother, whom I look back
upon as a model of cheerfulness and courage; and
now you tell me she had my noises, still more so.
How little we realise things till they come upon us
personally. I believe I have been a perfect fiend of
indifference, even intolerance, of deaf people, and
now it's me. Well, I am determined to become the
most Delightful Deaf Old Lady that ever existed and
I am practising to that end, with such examples in
mind as your mother's, but I don't hit it off yet very
well. Takes time. Yesterday (there was a horde of
people here in the afternoon to tea), I tried the plan
of talking incessantly myself, so as to hide the fact
I did n't hear anything they said, the result was no-
body paid the slightest attention to my (doubtless
brilliant) remarks, but turned their heads upon the
millions of automobiles that now shoot by us on the
newly torn-up-and-put-back road below the house, and
said " m-m-m ? " when I paused to take breath. One
plan is to keep me reading aloud (out of the Tran-
script) but that palls in the long run. No matter, —
I can write still. There are several things to be
thankful for and one is not to have been in Boston
for Home Week. . . .
Your loving Susie.
To Miss Charlotte A. Hedge
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 7, 1907.
dear sarlots, — I am enchanted with your letter,
not that I am glad that you are also ehvas schwer
hbrig; nor that I want you to be deaf, but I think
430 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
it is excellent for us to be alike, and able, as it were,
to swap jack-knives with our impressions. Yours are
exactly like mine, only I don't believe you were ever
half so naughty as I have always been about deaf
folks. Gran'ma Perkins, you know, was a pretty
trying specimen with her " m-m-m- % ? " And then
the Bursleys' Aunt (my age) Somebody that used to
sit in a corner, unblinded by the flashes of our wit.
I always wanted to kill them all.
You must know that I had been thinking of be-
coming an example of the Perfect Old Lady, for, like
you, I love growing old, and have been in the habit
of saying that each age I came to was the most inter-
esting yet. But here comes roaring ears, and knocks
me flat. Nobody ever told me about that (perhaps
they did, and I paid absolutely no attention. In fact
Carry Weld says her dear old mother, — she was a
plucky example, — used to have awful noises in her
ears all the time). But no matter. I am now deter-
mined to acquire the art of being a Perfectly Fasci-
nating Old Deaf Person. This resolution of mine
furnishes me with ample occupation, — often lacking
to the aged, — watching out to see that I don't get
cross or suspicious or inquisitive, or those things. I
was thinking, you know, of becoming bed-ridden as
soon as I got bald, but now there's no fun lying in
bed with roaring ears.
We are having a rather funny time here now, with
Bartlett Gray, who can't understand me and I can't
hear him, and Carla and Polly and Nat., who mouth
at me in the Jeanie language and bellow at him in
Old Style, and forget and whisper to each other the
most public remarks.
But to return to your much enjoyed letter ; speak-
ing of teeth, something happened to mine lately, and
I had to send them to Piper in Boston. When they
came back, by mail, I said, " Oh, that 's my teeth."
LAST YEAKS 431
Alvin, the mail carrier, promptly replied, "Mine
have never travelled so far." The parcel was regis-
tered, and I had to sign for it. I also have many
other afflictions (not altogether due to old age, that
is, not all of them). I can't remember anything, and
especially nouns and names, and think constantly of
my dear mother's "Mrs. What 's-his-name." Then,
besides, you know, I haven't any money, for my
chief investment has gone to Potty- wotty (for the
moment; they say it will rise again) ; and as every-
thing will happen in a bunch, they write me from
Jordan and Marsh that my fur cape will cost twenty-
one dollars to be re-lined ! ! My fur cape ! — with
which I have passed these ten years in the Tropics,
giving out now just as I am planning a winter in
Chicago. I feel like King Lear out in a thunder-
storm.
I must stop, and begin to write my Series :
1. How to grow old Gracefully
2. " " " " Pluckily1
3. " " " " though Deaf
with illustrations and examples from friends and
contemporaries.
Mr. Weeden, by the way (who sends his cordial
regards after hearing your letter) , is a wonder. He
is my age (seventy-three), has all his wits, teeth, etc.,
etc., and rides and swims daily.
Your Tuzosh.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Hotel Thorndike, October 3, 1907.
. . . Meanwhile I am here a prey to doctors, and,
in spite of them am really much better. My head is
not so wobbly, and I actually yesterday walked all
the way from Mass. Ave. to the Garden, and to this
432 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
house, through the Park on Commonwealth Ave. It
was lovely in the shade of those huge trees (we saw
them planted) and fat pigeons were bouncing about,
fed by small, pale boys with crutches. The autos
rattle me, though, crossing streets and tracks. . . .
Dr. Leland (354 Commonwealth Ave.) is getting
interested in my ears; and he really makes me hear
better. He treats my head as a large pincushion,
and drives spikes into it, from any old place, and
then blows things through, that may come out any-
where. I 'm not so very deaf, you know, I 'm per-
fectly good for a tete-a-tete conversation, but I don't
hear the talk at a table, and for that reason, I regard
my career as a luncher and diner-out, at an end. But
I 've had a good deal of fun out of it, have n't I ? So
why pine; — like skating, — and the waltz, — glad
of it. None of my doctors take the slightest interest
in my roarings, which make me feel like living in a
railway station, — or, I'll tell you — like that night
we passed at a junction in California, with trains in-
cessantly bumping in and out of our ears, don't you
remember ? When I 'm alone, I am perfectly happy
(always was) because my noises are like distant
waves on a beach, but whenever anyone comes, the
clatter begins. However, I 'm learning not to mind,
at any rate, not to mention the subject, and I dare say
I shall become attached to my bellowings. You see,
dear, I never by any accident lose grip of my excel-
lent spirits, which don't go back on me. I think I
inherit them from my mother, who died just a year
younger than I am now, at an advanced age.
There are compensations. I have lost thirty
pounds and my " shape " is a dream of rapture, " un
vrai mannequin" the modiste in Cannes called it,
and P. S. Glover (who is making over my black bro-
cade gown I wore last in 1904) is enchanted with
me. My eyes are perfectly good, the only reason I
LAST YEAKS 433
don't read more is that these books bore me, they are
printing now. Oh! but my teeth. Dr. Piper has
them for the moment, for a little catch broke off that
attached them to what I call the bed-post. So I spend
a good deal of time with Piper, but that will be all
right. I can't remember anything, but that is no
matter, it's people's names that bother me, and (all
summer) what there was for dinner. In fact run-
ning the house at Matunuck was rather too much for
me, and that it was which brought me to my recent
low estate, but I put it through bravely and all the
people enjoyed themselves and me. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Chicago, December 31 {old 1907).
dear carry, — You splendid Gal! Your letters
are worth $100,000,000 apiece and put me in the
finest spirits, especially this one, which I will re-
spond to at once, while the foam is at my mouth.
The strange part of all this is that I 'm in the finest
spirits all the time. It must be that the humourous
side is so on top ; this poor old wreck sitting off by
herself, in a hole, enjoying herself. . . .
Yesterday was a fiendish day here. We have the
vilest assortment of all different kinds of weather,
and I am so scared of falling down and breaking my
hip and having to stay in bed the rest of my life
because it can't be pieced, like three old ladies (my
contemporaries at eighty-five) I've lately heard of,
let alone grippe which has arrived here from Boston,
that I don't stir outdoors. But people come and
play with me in auto-scrabbles, and take me to
things. . . .
Meanwhile I had a lovely Christmas in my corner
like Little Jack Horner. People sent me flowers and
434 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
cards and plants in pots and I went to two Christmas
trees, and had my own dinner, a delicious turkey,
with a little plum-pudding and holly stuck in it (and
a pint of champagne). My "flat" is bedecked with
holly. I have more books to read than I can stomach.
By the way, I sent you Gelett Burgess purely for the
pictures of old San Francisco he describes so well.
I kept thinking of you as I was reading it, — so it
was nothing to do with Christmas, dear. I don't
make presents, but Salty sent me from the office ten
crisp dollar-bills which I spread abroad to elevator
boys and janitors and the like. I'm reading now,
" Sheaves," which begins charmingly, but E. F. Ben-
son is apt to peter out towards his end. Mrs. Delano
has lent me a rapturous " Biography of Mrs. James
H. Perkins" by Edith Cunningham, don't you
know ? Have you seen it ? It 's only for private con-
sumption, full of old-time talk, and all manner of
Forbes and Channings and Cabots and Higginsons
and Lymans. Did you read the " Ordeal of Marcus
Ordeyne " ? Kind of rattle-pated, but amusing. . . .
Blue ! Chicago the same. The Tribune (most
amusing paper!) is full of ghastly accounts of the
"Unemployed" and their sufferings, and ladies as-
sure me that the " well-to-do " are giving up extra
servants, and pinching themselves. . . .
As to clothes, we are like mermaids, lovely to the
waist, nothing farther except short black skirts.
Their functions are chiefly at clubs listening to papers
(I don't hear any of 'em, but that's no matter), so
that our tops only are of any account. The filth is
something fearful. Cleansing houses do a driving,
thriving business. You should see my bath-tub, —
could plant a garden in it, but this dirt is not off me,
only more put on. . . . Lots of love, dear.
Yours,
Susy.
LAST YEARS 435
To E. A. Church
137 Lincoln Park Boulevard, Chicago,
February 4, 1908.
dear mr. church, — I am shockingly behind in
literary correspondence and can't believe it is more
than a month since the date of yours (December 19 !).
Last year ! And now I am enclosing a small check-
let, and acknowledging the arrival of the yellow bag.
But I have the joyful news that Homestake Dividend
is safe in Wakefield Trust Company, where they may
as well be kept for the present. You see I am still
in this " fearful " city — for it has deserved that ad-
jective of late, in its very blizzardy manners and cus-
toms. I have not set foot outdoors since a week ago
Thursday, preferring to watch the play of the tempest
from my big window. A wonderful scene of sleet
and snow and fog and blast; people staggering over
slippery gulfs holding on their hats, avoiding their
umbrellas, breaking their legs and necks. Midnight
fires destroying theatres, — suicides, murders, di-
vorces, in the daily paper, which forms the chief part
of my breakfast, and mercury 8-zero. I went to a
Thomas concert on that last outing in an automobile
with Mrs. Delano, who is a charming lady who
" holds me in the hollow of her hand ' ' with thought-
ful attentions and invitations to pleasant functions.
It was cold even when 'we left here; and when we
came out of the Symphony Orchestra Hall (you know
it was planned by Theodore Thomas and built for
him — but he died almost directly afterwards), the
blizzard had begun! The broad street was packed
with autos all waiting for their mistresses (scarcely
a man to be seen — they prefer the Saturday evening
concert). Impossible for these to get to the side-
walk. Wheels buzzing and whirring, chauffeurs
436 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
LAST YEAKS 437
stamping and steaming, snow flying, here and there
an effete horse prancing, — dark, dark, at four-
thirty o'clock, and electrics gleaming through the fog !
A weird sight! Two chauffeurs clutched me and
led me over the slippery side-walk, pushed aside two
or three machines, and boosted me into ours, — snort-
ing and whirring to get off. My big fur cape was
inside and in a minute we were flying through the
storm ... I am now waiting for the arrival of
spring before another enterprise like this one.
Truly yours,
Susan Hale.
To Mrs. William G. Weld
Pass Christian, Mississippi,
March 24, 1908.
my dears, — Where are you? I must write you
about this lovely funny little spot, and begin by tell-
ing you I 'm better, not a great deal better, but so
as to be about, in my lovely veranda in the sun in my
wrapper with my hair down. You see we escaped
from Chicago on the somethingth of March (viz.,
Saturday, February 29) and arrived here belated (of
course these southern H. R.'s) long after dark Sun-
day, and I fell upstairs into a nice bed the next day
(twenty-eight hours from Chicago). I thought vol-
umes of you on the train, " in the dining-car," or wal-
lowing in the trough of my section, but I did n't write
you, did I ? I think not. We crossed all the rivers
in the Geography that rise in the Something Moun-
tains and fall into their own mouths or the Missis-
sippi ; but chiefly by night, for our route, the " Louis-
ville and Nashville," is so arranged as to pass through
none of the interesting cities of the Middle West.
Our object was to get here; — without improving
our minds if necessary, but Get Here.
438 LETTEES OF SUSAN" HALE
It's a quiet, sleepy, little place close on the shore
of the Gulf of Mexico, which is now placidly plash-
ing right across the road. The road is the Shell-
Road, which, as I conceive, button-holes the bottom
of all the Southern States. The shells are oyster
shells and the oysters are inside of us ; for our food
(sea-food) is mainly oysters, crabs, clams, shrimps,
redfish, bluefish, any old or new fish, in fact I con-
ceive the Gulf to be one vast chowder-pot. But the
chief thing is it 's warm,, warm as summer but not
hot. There is a " yard " in front of me full of bright
green grass and great live-oak trees, with white roses
in blossom, climbing round their trunks. When we
arrived, these trees were all shining with dark-green
leaves, their winter garment, but now these are all
fallen, raked up and burnt up, and the whole town
is aglow with light, bright, tender foliage, and blos-
soms falling through the air like green caterpillars.
Oh, it's enchanting. I have not seen any springs I
like so well, and mind it's March, of all disgusting
months.
It's a quiet boarding-house kept by three genteel,
decayed ladies, in the house of their ancestors, which
is full of decayed genteel, mahogany furniture. Our
room is ample and comfortable, with long windows
opening on the " Gallery " up one flight. The little
town is absolutely quiet, only one auto in it, and that
a sort of elderly fire-machine. A few cows and horses
stroll about the belt of grass between me and the
Gulf. There are big hotels, but remote ; and the vil-
lage consists of three shops and the Post-office. Ain't
it lovely ? When I say we, of course I mean me and
Mary Keating, who shares my room, in a corner-bed,
because there wasn't another. The inmates are
chiefly middlish-aged ladies with button-behinds and
pompadours and only three husbands amongst them.
I can't hear or remember their names, so I call them
LAST YEARS 439
Mrs. Omaha, Mrs. Minneapolis, Mrs. Louisville, for
they come from these cities, — they change every few
days, but the type remains. They are very kind,
and bring me wonderful flowers out of the woods,
Cherokee roses, violets, etc., etc. The drives are, or
is, monotonous, along the Shell-Road, which is dotted
with fine villas, later on, in summer, occupied by the
magnates of New Orleans with their automobiles and
sich.
So I rarely stir off the veranda, but eat fish-food,
write, sew, and sleep. I ?m not so very deaf, but the
racket in the dining-room prevents my joining in
"General Conversation," which I now regard as
gabble-gabble. There are three nice ladies at my
small table who think I am very funny, and so I am,
you know.
But now the bottom is out, and my passage is en-
gaged for April 4 in the Creole, steamer for New
York from New Orleans, and we spend next week in
New Orleans to see it, which I never did, did you?
It's only -Q.ve days to N. Y. and I expect to enjoy
that. We shall arrive Manhattan Thursday, April 9,
and I mean then to let Mary run home to her kind ;
and go myself to Olana to stay with Louis Church
in their warm house till May or thereabouts.
Yours,
Susy.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Always yours,
Susan,
Matunuck, August 5, 1908.
dearest carla, — I am bursting to tell you about
our tempestuous night, but it's almost Alvin time
and I must scrabble so I have signed first (of course
I can't spell in such a flurry).
440 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
Know : however, that at two-fifteen last night I was
wakened by shakings and flashings and bang-bang-
ings and whirlings as if all winds were loose. In
fact a terrific thunderstorm, worse we all think than
those that burned the barns. At first I thought I had
stopped being deaf, such horrid noises filled my head,
but no, they only triumphed over my usual drums.
The room was black with darkness, but every minute
or so the panes flashed with white light and zigzags
of orange, and bang-bang-whang like cannons, and
sheets of water. The house rocked and shook and re-
covered itself like a ship in a gale, and this kept up
going on. We're thankful that Nat. was here to
man us; he rose in his bed and pervaded the house
shutting windows, reefing chairs (to be sure all the
chairs are away being seated). He met Mary Keat-
ing in her rescue work. Little Mary wept, little Nat.
only thought it was time to get up, so he sate up in
his crib and said, " Gar-ga." A calm seemed to come,
and we all turned over and plunged our noses into
the sheet (it was hot you must know), when bang-
bang began again, rattly-smash, zigzag, flash-flash, I
should think an hour (shouldn't you, Polly? she is
sitting right here) . Sheets of water fell, chiefly into
my cellar as the doors of it were open. Your house
is all right. We looked for it in the morning.
Yours,
SuSAlS".
To Miss Charlotte A. Hedge
Matotuck, Rhode Island,
August U, 1908.
dear sarlots, — Your splendid letter is here
and I will answer it now, on the spot (before I for-
get it, to tell the truth), for my mound of neglected
letters is so terrible I don't dare to look at it, so
CO
O
M
o
P
H
«l
i— l
r^
H
H
Hi
h-t
LAST YEAES 441
it gets worse and worse. All you say about our
infirmities is most cheering; though it irritates
me to have young people pretending that they also
forget things (names, etc.) as if it were at all the
same thing as never remembering anything! But
you see, you and I know, £To matter. There 's good
stuff in us yet, and we can comfort ourselves by re-
flecting that the things we have forgotten are worth
more than all they can remember.
It came yesterday (your letter) in our noon-tide
mail; and in the afternoon about five I was sitting
by myself on the front piaz. (cooling off after a wild
circus with the children and my work-basket, which
resulted in their being taken off by the nurse, leaving
the work-basket, and incidentally me, a wreck).
Well, Mr. Weeden dropped up the hill just then and
sate down for a good talk ; and I read him your letter,
which pleases him much. He is really quite wonder-
ful (just a year younger than me). He 's got all his
wits and things about him, and has recently had
achieved a performance in his mouth which secures
all his own teeth to him for life. He rides on a
horse he's got o' purpose, and he never misses his
daily swim, has a fine appetite not in the least de-
stroyed by Jeanie's more than ample table. He is
perfectly fascinating with his G. children; all chil-
dren love him. He knows just the right game about
showing them his watch up in his lap. He departed
after an hour's chat with an ardent message of re-
membrance for you. " The Madam," as she is called
in general has had a houseful all summer. She is
untiring. . . . Last Saturday I invited the whole
colony to Bean Bags, but the Lord or Somebody
willed otherwise, for it rained like mad, so nobody
could come (literally) and I went to bed at eight
o'clock.
YOTJB LOVING TUZOSH.
442 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Roxbury, Massachusetts, October 11, 1908.
... I fancy you all off to-day hunting for the
mouth of Charles River in Worden's Pond. In my
day it was like looking for a needle in a haystack, —
but oh! how lovely winding in and out that dark
stream and getting stuck sideways in any narrow
turning. It will be a fine finale to your season.
Yesterday Pa and I drove in their New Parks,
which are very beautiful, though more conventional
than the Kingston Road. They have planted such
quantities of things with berries on them one would
think it their sole idea; the result is rapturous just
this minute for there are barberries, lots more kinds,
can't think of the names of them, — lots of witch-
hazel all in blossom now, and the foliage of every-
thing just calculated for autumn effects. Our stable
sent two fat horses atteles to a splendid open landau,
and Pa and I sat up like King and Queen. Every-
body knows him, and gazed with awe upon him. I
tried to hold up my end of the stick by sitting up
very straight in
my pompadour ;
but I regret to
say it got wobbly,
and my hat pre-
sented this rakish
appearance on my
return to my
room. No mat-
ter. But I am
doing my hair
pompadour every day, and it looks quite fine only
the top is a regular rat's-nest. I hope to improve
upon it later.
LAST YEARS 443
It is rather nice here, the family are all so kind
and devoted, and I am really feeling finely. I think
I 'm getting used to all my ailments, and don't mind
them so much. Fact is people don't notice whether
you hear them or not. Jeanie has taught me a lot
of good sense about this. . . .
Loving Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
39 Highland Street, October 15, 1908.
dear carla, — If I don't write this now you won't
get it before Sunday, and I want it to be a greeting
to Nat. and Polly as well, for I think they mean to
be there with you. So here's to the Matunuck
Crowd ! and may it never be less.
The weather is rapturous, and I hope it will hold
over for you. I was reading to the family last eve-
ning a fascinating article about the " Turn of the
Leaf in Autumn." Seems it's iron in the sap that
makes the bright colours, when the iron grows rusty,
because the sap goes away from it, like any old nail.
That's interesting, ain't it? Seems when it's time
to dry up, there's a little gate shut across the leaf
where it joins its stem, and when the sap comes up,
the door being shut the sap turns round and goes
back into the roots, which perhaps, like bulbs and
potatoes, get fat upon it. But the poor old leaf,
before it falls, gets brilliant tints from the residuum
of iron. It's iron, seems, anyway that has to do
with the colouring matter of leaves, — and those pale
white leaves you see in swormps are because there
is no iron in the marsh. I always supposed it was
because the sun did n't get in there, as in fact it don't ;
but maybe the iron goes with the sun. Excuse my
mentioning these things. I don't know as I feel any
better about the autumn leaves whether they are full
444 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
of old junk or not — but one must keep up with
Science. . . .
I am having a nice time here, everybody is good
to me. I never saw such a family; always on the
rampage after ordinations, weddings, funerals, any
old lark, — this means Pa and Nelly, for Ma and I
creep to our respective holes as soon as they leave the
house, and only poke our noses out for meals. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
and
Miss Mary E. Williams
Washington, D. C, January 12, 1909,
my dear carla (and mamie), — My head is spin-
ning with looking over the (apparently) undimin-
ished pile of my letters, but I am longing to write
to you all this time, instead of sticking to working
them down daily. How the time flies. It is three
weeks to-day since I came here, that 's just half the
time, for I am already pulling wires for February 2,
when I think to get me to New Orleans. ... I have
been looking over my list of answers to letters, and
I can't see that I have ever written you since I came,
but that can't be! I probably dropped you and
my dear Mamie thanks for your lovely Christ-
mas thoughts. I had a nice collection of things
and they filled a window-seat I have here. What a
rush upon red this year. It makes my corner very
gay.
But, I want you to know about my doings. My
hat with the hen on it, in connection with my Kakas
fur, and my pompadour to pin things onto, have done
a great work. Yesterday I "attended" Mrs. Gar-
field's tea, "a smash" as a lady in the dining-room
LAST YEAKS 445
here called it. I sate by Mrs. Cowles and helped her
make the tea, after a chat with Mrs. Newberry at the
coffee end. Had no idea who these dames were, but
read it in the newspaper this morning. . .
I have been to two or three other teas. I can't hear
anything, and don't catch the name of anybody, but
that 's no matter. I am much more steady on my legs
and can walk safely from here to Nelly's house. In
fact the side-walks and paved, flat roads are glorious
in W. except after a flurry of snow when no man
(however dark) dreams of shovelling. Agnes Pres-
ton (my Jamaica friend) came here on purpose to
play with me and see Washington, from Philadel-
phia, spend two nights and the day between, here at
Grafton; and Nelly put us through the paces: —
Senate (to see Pa), where we also watched Tillman
and others below us, — the row just beginning to fer-
ment— Cabot Lodge, Mr. Depew, and other Repub-
licans. Saw Judge Holmes sitting up on his bench
with the other Supremes. Saw Frances Willard in
a marble gown standing up on a pedestal next to
Romulus and Remus or Somebody. Were presented
to V.-Pres. Fairbanks, who is a dear, and saw the
Weather Man that makes the weather for everybody
(whether or no). . . .
But what I like best is to stay right here, in my nice
room, where I am safe, and my morning prayer in
my bath is that Nelly will not come and rake me out
to do things. My bathroom is a dream, it's all my
own and has a window in it, so made that I can keep
it open all the time and see things, while nobody can
see me. The water is just cold enough not to be too
cold, and I can sing my morning songs unmolested.
It's still dark when I get up at seven and by seven-
thirty Mary has come and harnessed me into things,
and then "Wilson" brings the breakfast on a tray,
with fruit, and I even have an orange first. Mary
446 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
gets the Washington Post and goes to her breakfast,
and thus I can dawdle until Patty with her carpet-
scraper and broom pursues me round and round, like
a large fly. If I can get nerve, while she is infesting
the place, to do my hair for the day,
it's all very well, but perhaps she
comes and sweeps under me, and then
I have to give it up until later. I
go down to luncheon which is really
my dinner at one, and by the way,
Mrs. George W. Goethals, whose hus-
band is a,t Culebra, sits at my same
/ //// )Tl — ' lfrfle table. Her name was Erne Rod-
/ *t*i-LL-J man, and her son, Freshman at Har-
vard, belongs to the Friday Dancing
Class;- — but I should think a real Rodman would
feel funnv to be named Goethals, and how the
dickens are they pronounced 1 She is very pleasant,
quite handsome, and extremely dressed, and on the
Go(ethals) incessantly. . . .
Your loving Susan.
To Miss Charlotte A. Hedge
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 8, 1909.
Nice Sarlots to write her Tuzosh; and yes I did
get yours at New Orleans, and was and am a pig not
to have answered it; so I will now write at once,
which is the only way to catch me ; but it 's discourag-
ing to correspondents to get the boot on their leg
again so soon. All you say (as always, my dear), is
absorbingly interesting. I wish I could have been
at the Williams' occasion, if it had been a week or so
earlier I could have gone to it in my new Chopak
suit, but just as well to hear about it ; and about the
christening. There is certainly a great deal of
beauty in that family, and I love them all, beginning
LAST YEAKS 447
with Moses (pere). I heard of this tea through
Weedens, who flew there in their buzz-buzz from
Providence, starting after luncheon and getting back
to dinner at the uzle time. Sorry also by absence
my losing the sight of your mother's best black-silk
gown.
I am now, by the way, sitting in a mauve-plush
wrapper which I used to wear in the first scene of the
"Elixir of Youth," as the Old Grandmother (the
" front " I wore, now answers as pompadour beneath
these same locks, now, grey, of my own front hair).
Those gowns are again stylish, with tight sleeves and
slinking hips, and my figger is precisely the same.
And that reminds me of the enlarged daguerreotype
you speak of. Is it not amusing? I sent one to
Carry, as I should have done to Anne, if we had her
here still; but in general, I think it's bad form to
circulate one's own image.
As for things, how they do accumulate, how often
I wish to exclaim, " Oh don't give me that ! " Mrs.
Evelyn Perkins, for instance (the one I travelled
with), is constantly giving me things. Sometimes,
to tell the truth, I like them, as a Japanese kimono or
something which is a dream of grey crepe with great
blobs of pink on it. But don't for Heaven's sake
have people give me books ! By the way, I have an
enchanting one just now, " The Magic Casement," all
possible fairy poetry from Queen Mab down, selected
by Noyes, himself no mean poet. Otherwise I am
reading for the millionth time the " Correspond-
ence of Samuel Richardson," edited by Mrs. Bar-
bauld. Delicious. Those people of the eighteenth
century (Queen Anne's) knew much better what they
were about than we do. They had time for things,
wrote drooling long letters, had some knowledge of
each other's characters, and what books they had,
they read. They had a thing called " Leisure " which
448 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
we don't possess, although, to be sure, they, even then,
regarded themselves as being in a hurry, and spent
much time and paper in explaining why they did n't
write oftener; the facts being they had nothing to
communicate, and as a general thing, wrote much too
frequently for comfort either to themselves or their
correspondents.
I've been here now since May 15, and, — barring
the fiendish cold, rain, wind, fog, sleet, damp, —
rapturously employed playing with my own things,
which I have not seen all winter. I love my old
elbow-chair up in my own room, and the long cheval-
glass where I can for once see the whole of myself;
and my breakfast in the porch, where "she ain't
crazy but she eats outdoors." Mary Keating does
the whole thing; makes the kitchen fire, makes the
coffee, makes the toast, broils the chop, sets the table,
everything except to digest my food, and, if she is
unwilling, I don't even do that. But this is at
an end, for to-morrow my other maid comes (new),
and moreover the other inhabitants arrive, Carla,
Matlacks, Polly and her tribe in their own house,
which is done, not with me, Weedens soon, then
Rose, and outlying provinces become peopled, like
Roger Perkins, Sibley Smith, Larry and others.
Of course I want to have them come, for we are
a very congenial crowd, and everybody is good to
Susan.
There ain't no ice, you know, because the pond, it
didn't freeze, or if it did, casually, Elisha wasn't
round and didn't cut any. Such a thing has not
happened ever since 1872 when the life here began.
The ice-house is just newly shingled, so it 's nice and
dry inside, and we are using the old shingles for
kindlings.
The land is a dream of early summer, Kalmia
(laurel) full of fat buds ; lilacs, yellow lilies, iris on
LAST YEAES 449
the wane, hawthorn, honeysuckle, "everything that
pretty bin " in profusion. All my summer wood has
just been dumped on my strawberry bed, full of blos-
soms, but that's no matter.
Your Tuzosh.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
No letters since Friday; nervous as a witch.
Matunuck, 7:30 a.m., June 9, 1909.
but nelly, — I want to tell you something fas-
cinating. In the first place I've got a delightful
book ; have you read about it ? It is all possible Fairy
Poetry (Keats, etc.) selected and put together by
Noyes called " The Magic Casement," and contains
all manner of familiar things from "Hark, hark!
the lark" down.
Well, I was sitting reading it in the west-long-
window with the wistaria outside all smelling good,
— this was yesterday afternoon, — and enwrapped
with Tom Hood's " Plea of the Midsummer Fairies,"
do you remember about it ? It says
" there were many birds of many dyes
. . . and all were tame
And peckled at my hand where'er I came."
Well, just as I was all mixed up with this, a great
fool robin, just hatched, very fuzzy, came bounce!
and jammed himself into the wistaria vine, and sat
staring behind a bunch of it at me, quite imprisoned,
he could neither get in nor out. I had seen him be-
fore. Mary thinks he is just hatched out of a small
oak tree on the hill. A person I conceive to be his
father, stalked up and down the drive, buttoned up
in his red waist-coat, and chirped in an indifferent
manner, as if his wife had told him to go out and
450 LETTEKS OE SUSAN HALE
look for offspring, who was lost. But offspring
could see the parent, and Pa Robins went away. So
we sate quite still, till I began to think it was time
for him to go home, and he seemed a bit uneasy,
so I softly put my hand into his ambush. He gave
a great squawk and sprang away, and flew with the
ease of a Wright's Machine back towards his hill.
Wasn't it excellent? I felt as if Queen Mab and
Puck would be there directly. . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Charlotte A. Hedge
Matunuck, Rhode Island,
September 5, 1909.
dear sarlots, — Is n't this a dreadful business
about the North Pole being found, all the mystery,
all the charm, gone out of the Geography ? It 's now
just like any other old place, say Watchaalascatch-
kan, Iowa. And such a commonplace man discover-
ing it, named Cook. He just made a hole in the
ground and came away. Why didn't he see blue
devils, salamanders, and shooting flames, and the
shades of Hudson and John Franklin and Norgens-
cold and Swerdros hawking round and wringing their
hands saying, " He done it " ?
I'm forcing myself now to turn my thoughts to
the Antarctic Pole — there remains mystery, ro-
mance, inaccessibility ; and I can't get over my child-
ish impression that it's warm there. I am hoping
you will sympathise with me in this new aggression
of the twentieth centurv. How flat the world seems !
He, Cook, seems to have taken absolutely no comfort
in the fact there was no longitude. Write your
sympathy.
I noticed, last night, no perturbation in the Pole
LAST YEARS 451
Star. I was fearing it might refuse to go round a
Cooked Pole.
Yours,
Susy.
To Miss Charlotte A. Hedge
Matunuck, Ehode Island,
September 15, 1909.
dear sarlots, — To tell the truth, I never could
endure the works of Philpots, and have never opened
one of them. I am quite sure it is on account of his
name ; but I should hate to have any book of his in
the house. You will, I 'm sure, excuse and even enjoy
this vigorous language. I once liked Hardy's things,
but I don't think I could now, and there is also a
man named Howlitts or something, I can't bear.
Young's " Night Thoughts " is good enough for me,
especially where he says:
" Oh ! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought
Lost to the noble sallies of the soul
Who think it Solitude to be alone."
But I have also got a fat book of " Appreciations "
I believe they are called, of George Meredith, and
that is quite pleasing. And I 've got Huneker's
" Egoists," which tells all about a quantity of people,
cranks, that it wouldn't be proper for us to read
themselves.
But to return to the Pole. This mush is dreadful
they have got us into, Cook and Peary reported daily,
column by column in the same daily paper, Mrs.
Cook and Mrs. Peary bridling and waggling their
heads. Last night when I looked out I seemed to
see Two Pole stars, — and I dare say they are get-
ting forked. (To be sure, I also saw two lighthouses
on Block Island. It's some form of superannuated
vision, I believe.) But no matter.
452 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
Nelly invites me to stay with her at 29 Gorham
Avenue, Brookline, and I may come to it later, but it
is still enchanting here. Yesterday a dream of a
day. Carla Atk. is my neighbour, you know, and
"Polly" Weeden, now Smith, has two delightful
children. We mean to hold on through this month
at least. Mrs. Jeanie Weeden has a "motor" and
lately hawked me in it up the Island of Newport and
back in the twinkling of an eye.
Always yours,
Tuzosh.
To Miss Ellejst D. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, October 19, 1909.
OH ! MY DEARS !
WHOEVER READS THESE LINES
as it says in the "Mysteries of Udolpho," or some
one of my old novels ("Cherubina" in fact) — may
know that I am all packed, all swept and garnished,
although it is yet twenty-four hours
Before
The Fatal Knell
(Knock wood.)
It 's all very nicely arranged. Carla and I are going
with Willard to Kingston and from there together
to New York and spend the night at Manhattan, and
thence next by morning train to Hudson, where you
know I mean to stay till to'rds the middle of Novem-
ber, when I return to New York, and Mary K. joins
me, to sail in N. G. Lloyd, S. S. Prinzess Irene,
November 20. Ain't it splendid? Rich, affluent,
not lacking in the remains of personal charms, ac-
companied by an accomplished though educated maid,
I wend my way to further conquests upon the Medi-
terranean shores. You see, that having sent all my
LAST YEAES 453
books I haven't read to the Robby Library, I am
reduced to the perusal of Miss Burney's " Cecilia/7
and this is the way it proceeds; an excellent work
and I am surprised to see how modern it is; the
prattle of Miss Larolles might be easily transferred
to any Boston reception, not to mention Washington.
I hate to go away, for it is still lovely here. . . .
Loving Susan.
To Mrs. 1ST. W. Smith
Olana, November H, 1909.
dear polly, — ... It 's wonderful the things
that go on in Boston. I had no idea there was a
new Art Museum till I heard that Jake was exhibit-
ing himself in the Old One. By the way, did you see
Phil, anywhere round? Every body (of my age)
writes me of the new Opera House, for we all recall
the joyous days when the new one was the poor old
Boston Theatre ; and there we used to sit night after
night and see Grisi and Mario and Rachel and Jenny
Lind, and hear those dear old-fashioned operas like
" Lucrezia Borgia " and " Trovatore " and the "Bohe-
mian Girl," and " Norma," and I wore my hair just
like the old photograph we have now (enlarged) and
no hat, and nodded to everybody in the house as we
scuttled down to our own seats before the footlights.
My! those were stirring times, and our men came
round and talked to us, and we had librettos with
English words and long play-bills with the names
of the performers. I felt exactly as if I owned the
whole house, and that it was the finest in the world.
Well, that's just about sixty years ago. But no
matter; ain't I going to sail on the 20th to foreign
parts! . . .
Loving Susan.
454 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
Prinzess Irene, November 27, 1909.
carla dear, — Es ist sehr dunkel and only six-
thirty by my clocks, but the Bad-stewardess hiked
me out from my delicious salt bath and I 'm back and
had my coffee, and will write you till Mary comes and
dresses me. We had a wonderful day with Azores,
yesterday, passing slowly along under that one that
has not got Pico on it. I never saw it so beautiful,
in fact I have always regarded the Azores as tedious,
but now ! it lasted from one, just after early luncheon
till two-thirty, all the time very beautiful, all swathed
with rainbows of brightest hues like those fires on
the stage that ladies dance in within their clothes.
The high cliffs dotted, don't you know ? With little
villages such as come in a box, and immense great
waterfalls with real water in them, — "Slow drop-
ping veils of thinnest lawn did go and great chasms
casting shadows." (Mary K. was wild. It's the
first " scenery " she ever saw except the R. R. Station
at Concord, Mass.) We all stood pressed up against
the rail, rather wobbly, with great lapus-lazuli waves
plashing over the shore. Then I was so tired I went
to bed at once, and had no dinner, and slept till just
now, perfectly refreshed when I got my bath. . . .
Your Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Alger, le 5t7i Decembre, 1909.
oh ! nelly ! — It 's Sunday, and my birthday, and
by these signs I should be writing to you, if joy alone
didn't cause me to. Open window, sun shining,
towels drying in my balcony, little rolls of butter,
coffee (vile, of course) and honey. (I will tell you
this each time I write.)
LAST YEARS 455
Well, you see I must look now at everything in the
spirit of seventy-six. Would it not be funny if I
should live another seventy-five years, and become
one hundred and fifty; they are inventing things to
prolong life. On the other hand M. Somebody I
have always supposed to put faith in says the tail
of Halley's comet may sprinkle us next May in a
gas which will make us all die rapturously. Very
well. . . .
Your Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Hotel de la Plage, Cannes,
December 25, 1909.
Oh! Nelly, this is really Christmas, and I will
celebrate by writing this to you instead of to-morrow.
I am entirely cleaned out of nice little gold-pieces,
by the reason of tips, and had to scrape together my
last five francs for Mary's church. I am saving Papa
Leopold II on a fat five-franc piece, and washed him
yesterday with ammonia and my nail-brush to keep
for a luck penny. We have also got a twenty-
franc note Algerienne which don't pass here. But
there is lots of money in the Credit Lyonnais, and
they placed it all at my disposal, they were so pleased
to see me.
But we've been having a terrible time with the
Grand Duke Michael Somethingvitch. You know
he is dead; and three war-ships came over from
Bizerta and stood out here with little lights on them
456 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
in the night, and one took him away in his coffin
through the Straits of Dardanelles (by permission
of Turks) to be buried in Peter and Paul's church
at St. Petersburg, and his nephew is now Grand
Duke Michael, and I saw him on a horse at the head
of the convoi, and behind him tramped millions of
matelots, in berets and dark-blue shirts, whom I con-
ceive to be from the Russian ships, though more sol-
diers and sailors came from Nice. And there was
a mound of flowers drawn by horses, — couronnes
with broad ribbons with the names of the Queens
who had sent them; and then priests in white and
gold bearing a great cross and things, and everybody
took off their hats ; and then the old gentleman him-
self in a gilt hearse with four horses, and then the
municipality of Cannes, with their hats off and quite
bald, and then a quantity of private carriages with
the people not in them. There were military bands,
and one of them was playing Chopin's "Funeral
March," which is the most solemn thing I know. I
heard it in Constantine in a march Funebre of sol-
diers, twenty years ago or more. It was all very
impressive, and I was in a little carriage lined up
between autos, by the side of the road in a little
cross-street from Rue d'Antibes. When I got back
here and looked for the war-ship, it was gone. How
they got him into it I can't imagine, can you ? Mean-
time Mary Keating had put for la gave, which was
wise of her, for that was where everything culmi-
nated, and she saw the couronnes and the names on
the ribbons ; — and saw lots of the procession which
went back to Nice by train.
You see Old Grand Duke has been a fetish here
ever since I first came, and Louis and I used to see
him in a little cart drawn by two ponies (I think),
and his valet behind. He was about one hundred
and sixty then, more now; and much beloved here,
LAST YEAKS
457
though I believe his family didn't care much for
him. But they came out strong with the obseques
certainly. . . .
Loving Susan.
To E. A. Church
Hotel de la Plage, Cannes, France,
January 26, 1910.
dear mr. church, — While I was at my bank
yesterday, waiting for my money, this delightful old
lady came bustling in, pushed me away from the
window, and began to do business. They were all
delighted to see her and smiled and shook hands, and
she held out a great bunch of bank-notes she had:
Cent francs, 100 cent francs, gold, heaven knows how
458 LETTEKS OF SUSAN HALE
much. She didn't come to draw money, not a bit
of it; but to deposit. I guess somebody had been
paying rent up to January 1, don't you ? You don't
suppose she came in a carriage do you ? She walked,
had this umbrella, though no signs of rain were
visible. She asked after all their children, shook
hands all round and bustled out again. " That 's a
jolly old lady," said I. "Yes, she is," they said,
and rubbed their hands. That's the way I look
when I come to see you and deposit my rents,
ain't it ?
Your letter is sous-main of the 9th January. It
sounds to me very well and prosperous, and for a man
of business you manage to get a wonderful lot out of
life, opera, sailors' home, and all that reading you
manage to put in. I'm interested in what you say
about Perabo. He was a new-fledged lion when I
knew him (more by token of which he must be get-
ting old by this time). I remember I was doing
something funny at some charitable entertainment,
when he was pianist. He won't remember any-
thing about me. I remember (or think I do) that
the entertainment was for the Homeopathic Hos-
pital and that afterwards when I wanted to send
somebody there I couldn't, because I was a Uni-
tarian. But perhaps I've got it mixed up. Peace
to its ashes. I can't read Mr. De Morgan's works.
I got swamped in one of them and barely escaped
with my life. I have in my possession here two
copies of " Bella Donna," a vile book in my opinion.
I couldn't get through with it, and had somebody
tell me the ghastly wind up of it. People give it to
me because I have been twice in Egypt, and am toler-
ably familiar with the Nile, all the more reason for
avoiding a book that stains all the picturesque effect
of the scenery with evil imaginations. I 'm sorry,
for I think Mr. Hichens is very capable. But I'm
LAST YEAKS 459
reading French all the time, and just now have hit
upon a charming novel — so far — most of them end
in disaster.
Truly yours,
Susan Hale.
To E. A. Chukch
Hotel de la Plage, Cannes, France,
February IS, 1910,
DEAR MR. CHURCH,
Business ! Business !
Wonderful sight!
Money coming in instead of going out !
Little and Brown doing business !
113 copies sold of " Last of the Peterkins " !
I am thinking of buying an automobile and
shipping it home.
Jesting aside, I'm surprised, for I thought these
things would go straight to you; but this was ad-
dressed to Matunuck; so perhaps you have not re-
ceived the account of Houghton and Mifflin due about
now. No matter ; this will support me a good while,
anyhow it puts; me up to writing you a little letter.
It is enchanting here this sunny morning I am writ-
ing in my open window with the sun shining in on
me, and the lovely, lovely Mediterranean outside all
veiled in soft light ; the sea, the hills, the sky all blue
and vague, and dreamy little sails dawdling about.
Mary K. has gone to church and everybody else ex-
cept me is in church, and there is not a sound below
on the boulevards; unless a chance dog, or a green
parasol goes by on the side-walk. Tell Mrs. Church
that existence is impossible here without a green
parasol. The shops are full of them, and everybody
is wearing them (except me) ; I wont. I love to be
460 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
in all the sun there is ; but here the people are afraid
of it, and the men walk about with umbrellas. To be
sure I might buy one with my $14.12 just received,
but likely that will go for books from London. It's
so easy to get them here, no duty, and only one day.
I subscribe to the London Daily Telegraph, and I am
trying to understand their election and their New
Parliaments. I don't want the Lords to be abolished,
do you ? It 's so splendid to have them sitting up in
their crowns and ermine. I wouldn't do away with
them for anything.
But let me tell you the fields are all green, and
great rivers babbling through them, and almond trees
in blossom, and little dandelions like ours, and little
poppies, and deep pink anemones, and masses of yel-
low mimosa on great trees. The hotel is full of tour-
ists down from the North ; it 's the thing for the Eng-
lish to come here in Lent. In fact Mr. Asquith and
Mr. Lloyd George were in town last week, recuperat-
ing. I did n't see them but I hope they saw me driv-
ing in my little carriage piled up with mimosa.
Here's Mary K. to dress me, so good-bye for the
moment.
Truly yours,
Susan Hale.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Hotel de la Plage, Cannes, France,
jeudi, February 24, 1910.
dear nelly, — It 's raining ! ! of all things, and the
Bataille de Fleurs will have to be put off again, and
their nice flags and awnings are all getting wet.
"Pity not had him yesterday," as small gargon re-
marked when he brought my plateau just now.
But I can't trouble much about us on account of
the poor old Parliament. Do you keep reading
LAST YEARS 461
about them ? Ain't it terrible ? They can't pass their
budget, and they can't have any money to pay each
other with, until they've fired all the nice Lords,
to please Mr. Redmond; and nice Mr. Balfour has
a cold, so he hates to have to speak and try and com-
fort them. I have pictures of all of them, cut out
and pinned in a book I've got. It's in vain to use
Fullum's aphorism and say, " 'Tain't no consequence,
they was Irish," because the trouble is they be
Irish.
Well, I shall get my London Telegraph again this
afternoon and then we '11 see. . . .
Your Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Hotel de la Plage, Cannes, Prance,
February 28 {last day of winter), 1910.
Why ! Nelly ! Poor old Willy * is gone at last. I
guess he is glad. I read it yesterday in my Sun, and
can think of nothing else since. ISTo doubt you are
writing me about it ; but our mails are all a tort et a
travers. The Sun has a pretty good article; and I
send their additional comment. No doubt some of
his schoolboys have become Sun-reporters or so. But
he was six years younger than me. They say less.
He had a splendid faith, and no doubt felt he was
going straight to his father, I mean Uncle Edward.
You see (I 've often told you) he was six when they
came back from living in England, and I was twelve.
His home was pretty forlorn, and my mother took
him right in; he adored her. He came often to
6 Hamilton Place and I was made to go to play with
him in Summer Street (which I hated) — but we
used to play bear, with me for the bear living under
the great yellow-marble centre-table with gold legs.
1 William Everett.
462 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
I've often told you how he used to walk with me
round the Common in petticoats with a beaver hat
and cane, shouting, " Arma virumque cano." All
last night I was thinking of these things and longing
to jump up and tell you about it. . . .
Your Susan.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Cannes, France, March 1%, 1910.
Oh! my dear Mary, "Quelle joia!" as Lucretia
used to say, don't you remember? We didn't, but
that was a part of our eccentricities. Well, as I was
saying quelle joia to get a fat bunch of half-sheets
yesterday about dark, unusual hour, so I spent the
time till dinner reading and re-reading them, after
Mary had got me dressed in my striped-grass gown,
whereas I had done my hair earlier in the
business. . . .
But you are so dear to write me about Willy
Everett, for I am still feeling very sad and sort of
grieved about it (different from some deaths). There
is so much that was forlorn about it, and at any rate
so much in him unappreciated. I ?m glad you kept
up your dealings with him. I tossed all night after
I got the news (read it in my N. Y. Sun, February
17), thinking of the days when he was a little boy,
and we played bear in the great, gloomy drawing-
room of his family in Summer Street. I was the
bear, I think, and lived on all fours under the great
malachite or alabaster centre-table with gold legs,
and I used to come out and growl, I believe, for him
to run away. He was six and I was twelve. You
know (probably don't) that (last spring, before Papa
Edward died) I was staying with them in 39 High-
land Street and by great strategy a dinner was ar-
ranged by Willy for us, just us two, to come to
LAST YEAES 463
Quincy, and we drove over in state; the dinner was
par fait, the whole a perfect success. Edward was
scared to death and on his best behaviour, Willy also
had his Sunday muzzle on, and they were so polite
to each other, it was painful. You know Willy loved
Edward, but was always enraged with him, and Pa,
aware of this, was sure to put his foot in it. The
consequence was that every subject either man was
interested in was carefully avoided, and even the
weather, the crops, the possibility that Mars is in-
habited were but lightly touched. I did n't open my
mouth, but sate and stroked the cat. But it was a
great success, and left a good taste in all our mouths,
and gives me the image of his perfect, carnal comfort
in his menage, these latter days. Hje was surrounded
by three females, all his abject slaves ! a cook, a sort
of marmsome housekeeper, who waited at table, and
his typewriter amanuensis, who was subserviently
tyrannical, as she should be. . . .
Yours,
Susie.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Cannes, Faques, March £7, 1910.
Oh, Nelly, do you remember when we sate all in
the dark in the Toledo Cathedral, with shadowy
crowds veiled and kneeling, still, still, till midnight,
when a burst of light came and somebody said " Christ
is Kisen," and every body jumped up and kissed each
other? And then I am thinking of the Holy Week
in Jerusalem, when the procession came down from
the Mount of Olives with palms, that Sunday; and
Easter we went down to what they call the Tomb,
under church of Sepulchre. And then a Good Friday,
in Mexico, little small place where Aztecs did a little
play of the " Betrayal of Judas " and one performed
Christ, to a vast crowd of Indios out in a great field.
464 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
And more things I have forgotten and partly in-
vented which are described in my Archives, and came
round in bed last night when I woke up at 2 a. m.
But now I have got an Easter egg which came np
with my breakfast, all gaily coloured with a picture
of a little sort of faun carrying a basket of Easter
eggs, with hoofs to him. And close by me is a fat
bunch of these violets picked for me by a lady, out
of her own garden. I saw her do it, in exchange for
a franc. It seems a rain that we had was what they
needed, for the whole country is covered with them,
wild; but these of mine are cultivees, up behind the
" Calif ornie." . . .
Yours,
Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Cannes, Monday, April 1±, 1910.
Sailing two weeks from to-day!
Might write to Manhattan, New York.
Oh, Nelly, I must forsake all and tell you these
things. No matter if I don't write the right letters
to everybody (or anybody) ; we shall get there all
the same.
We had aviation yesterday, and I am converted! I
It was lovely. Plage (me up-stairs and Mary K.).
These are swarms of people looking on. It soared
so beautifully and looked exactly like a bird, and not
a big bird either ; any old bird, — and took ten min-
utes, I believe, to go way across our horizon and
back again. So we may come home in one; but my
transportation is all engaged (and paid) for Early
Victorian methods. . . .
But now, Nelly, to change the subject, I want you
to read not only " Merope " by Matthew Arnold, but
his own preface to it in his latest Complete Edition
Poems which I got from London lately. I 'm send-
LAST YEAES
465
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466 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
ing it to Edward ; and do you make him let you have
it. It is all in the line of that Greek man we were
reading, you know, in Roxbury, last time I was
there. . . .
And Homestake is paying again ! ! One hundred
and four dollars on March 25. So I feel rather easy
about not being cast into prison on my return, by
Kidder and Peabody. . . . Lots of love from
Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Cannes, Hotel de la Plage, encore
vendredi, April 8, 1910.
dear nelly, — ... My mail just walked in with
Minna Goddard's letter to say they will arrive here
to-morrow in their motor with Corinne, the maid,
and their chauffeur, to spend one night with me. . . .
I may add here that this motor business has de-
stroyed all the punctual habits, Early Victorian, in-
troduced by steam-railways, and so incidentally, by
my own father. " ~No hanging round : but start now
or you'll lose your train." On the contrary, these
unfortunate chauffeurs sit waiting for hours at the
door and very likely in a pouring rain, until their
marms come strolling out with a dozen more hat-
boxes, — gigantic in size (also an innovation); I
wish you could see the things they stuffed into one
yesterday, — a baby, a nurse, a small dog, a bassi-
nette on top full of dirty clothes; a man, his two
wives, their hats (in boxes), the maid, the chauffeur,
the courier, the man's own cane, everybody's um-
brella, a green parasol, a purple ditto; besides their
hand-baggage. The trunks had gone before (by rail,
T presume). . . .
Yours,
Susan.
LAST YEARS 467
To Miss Caroline P. Atkinson
and
Miss Mary E. Williams
Cannes, France, April lip, 1910.
Now, my dears, the bottom is out, and I am tearing
up letters and sich, and exploring the depths of my
trunk for places unknown to Mr. Loeb. We are
leaving here next Monday as ever
was, and doing everything by
Fridays; arrive from Marseilles
Friday, in Naples on the 20th and
from Naples to New York on the
29th. Makes me nervous, it's so
soon.
It's gone like a flash! though a lovely tranquil
winter. I suppose there never was an old lady that
did so few things as I have done, but no matter for
that. I took a young gentleman to drive the other
day. He is a dear. I should like to annex him ; and
he would like to be my kind of gentleman courier, so
I wish I could have him instead of Mary. . . . He is
English, named Robinson, and is the organist here
in Cannes at St. George's Church (where the Duke of
Albany is buried), and he took me in there; it's a
little, very perfect (modern) Gothic chapel, with
stained-glass windows, and holds the lovely marble
tomb of the Duke, peacefully reposing, with crossed
(very beautiful) hands. Then Robinson opened his
organ and played (no doubt) lovely fugues and
things. I had to pretend I heard them, but of course
it was to my ears only skurling. His father is a
rector in Oxford, and two brothers are curates. Ain't
it just like an English novel ? His voice is a lovely
baritone ; he is adored by the English colony.
I've got an old gentleman I call "the Cat-faced
468 LETTERS OE SUSAN HALE
man/' for you see I can't hear any of their names.
He says my French is beautiful; and there's a
widower Mary and I call " the beautiful man," with
two children and an awfully cross mother. Her maid
has just gone away because she can't stand it. . . .
Your joyous Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
"N. G. Lloyd Prinz IfieinricJi. 7 :30 a. m.
Thursday, April 0i, 1910. Cabin 1*26.
Oh my! oh, Nelly! oh reizend schbn, only Mary
has got the ink. But never mind, perhaps you can
read this and perhaps I'll mark it over (guess not).
You see I 'm once more on the rapturous wave ;
and how I do love it ! I feel just as if I was seven-
teen and had nothing the matter with me, except that
I know more languages. I've just come out of a
luscious cold salt Bad in a great tub, and stewardess
has brought lovely N. G. Lloyd coffee and rolls. I
bet there 's no one else up yet on the ship.
But you must know we 've had a funny time ; for
the wind was so bellowing (a bise or something) that
ship couldn't start, so we went to bed tied up to a
great warehouse and spent the night at Marseilles in
perfect motionlessness. But at dawn just now I
heard and felt the chug-chug and saw rocks out of
the port-hole, presumably not Monte Christo's island.
Mary's cabin is away at the end of the ship ; she is
very jolly, we feel like larks to be in our old haunts,
and Princess will be still more so next week. . . .
Your Susan.
LAST YEARS 469
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Dampfer "Prinz Heinrich,"
24 hours later, Friday, April %?j, 11 a. m.
dear nelly, — And here we are still wobbling in
Mediterranean waters. AJ1 night long, the dreary
fog-horn sounded, and at 6 a. m. was nothing to be
seen, folded in with the same fog. Just now there
is a visible horizon, but we were still, — half the
night, — no matter ; one place is as good as another,
and I must say that Mary K. is splendid; she takes
everything en philosophe. She is now getting rid of
her French coppers for post-cards of the ship. . . .
Fog, fog, everywhere and we may be another night
on board !
Your Susan.
To Miss Mary B. Dinsmoor
Grand Hotel, Napoli, 1910.
What month is this? Mebbe April 22.
dear mary, — Rapturous ! After a long and very
wobbly voyage, my head still swimmy-swimmy, I sit
here reading a fat bunch of home letters waiting for
me, and yours takes the cake. Think of the "kind
seer " turning up again. I envy you being chez once
more even if you are debarred from your bureau-
drawers. Well, " I shall soon be with you," as Har-
riet Byron said when she thought it was all up with
Sir Charles on account of Clementina, I shall (knock
wood) be soon jumping out on my piazza at Matu-
nuck, say May 15, or perhaps 13. We sail from here
next Friday, 29th, Princesse Irene, you know.
My dear, this voyage was fiendish; and I've got
the taste of it still in my mouth. We left Marseilles
in blithesome mood, — that was Wednesday, 3 p.m.
470 LETTERS OF SUSAN HALE
— with an angel " interpreter " we know there ; saw
the trunks ; saw the " Angels " in our cabins. Very
well. Everybody left us (and went away) tied to the
wharf ; and there we stayed till dawn the next morn-
ing in fog, the wind was so fierce. I heard the
chunky-chunky begin of the engines, in bed about
sunrise, so all that day, Thursday, we were wobbling
in the fog, and all Friday, until six p. m., when we
were rudely thrust out, without dinner (which no-
body wanted) to the cold docks of Naples. All this
time there was nothing under heaven to do, no good
places to sit, a great upper dreary deck with nobody
on it but me and Mary K. and only one steamer
chair, and the ramparts, — I mean bulwarks — so
high you could n't see anything if you sate down, be-
sides there wasn't anything to see, only fog. Only
fourteen passengers at two sparse, round tables for
luncheon, only two ladies, the rest in bed. I sate for
the most part in the corner of my cabin, to the detri-
ment of my spine, reading an Italian novel, to get up
my languages. I got lost once going up to see Mary
on her lonelv deck, whence all but her had fled, and
was only extricated by instruments from the bowels
of the ship. Well, no matter, it's over now, only I
feel like a dog. We rattled in an old-fashioned omni-
bus (three horses) over the paving stones, for miles
and miles you know to this hostelry, but here I have
a charming room and everybody (although all dead)
recognising me. That's a gift of hotel men, they
carry on the illusion or tradition. I generally expect
to find the Charles Longfellows sitting at dinner.
But they ain't here now because they did n't come. I
don't for the moment want to see, feel, hear, taste nor
smell anything till I get over this wobble. There,
did you ever hear me give a voyage such a black eye ?
Yours,
Susan.
LAST YEAKS 471
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
JSTew York, Friday, May IS, 1910.
now nelly dear, — Don't worry, but I have a
paralysed arm since that storm I wrote you about, my
left one, so it's not so very bad, and Mary is an
angel. We go to Matunuck to-morrow, and Arthur
and Edward are both here. Will write from there.
I am not sick at all, only helpless.
Your Susan.
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Matunuck, May 15, 1910.
oh nelly ! — It 's rapturous, everything so nicey-
nicey, Mary K. a wonder. I got here by " uzle train "
all right, and Dr. Gardiner's horse, I mean his auto,
was browsing on the lawn; for Arthur had warned
him in a telegram that my wrist was paralyzed, you
know. He was splendid and says that people usually
are paralyzed when they come from abroad, and such
things. I am not wobbly now on that account, but
because Mary and me have not got over the voyage
yet. So don't worry about me because I am so happy
to be here. It never seemed so good before. Great
robins on the lawn, and dandelions and things and
May perfect. Everything was ready for us and
Mame Tucker still on the ship after the finishing
touches of house-cleaning. Lots of love from your
happy Susan.
Arthur and Edward were angels. Nobody else
here yet.
472 LETTEES OF SUSAN HALE
To Miss Ellen D. Hale
Matunuck, Rhode Island, June 22?
dear nelly, — For once it is warm at Matunuck,
in fact broiling at 7:30 a. m. Breakfast on front
piaz. Everything looks lovely, honeysuckle, wild-
roses all about. Good for cripples as well as bipeds.
My parlour is full of flowers everybody sends, for it
is the heyday of the roses, and every bowl is filled.
These are Ma Browning's ramblers. She is very
proud of them. No news and we may have a N. E.
storm before night.
Your Susan.
My doctor takes good care of me, but I am quite
useless.
INDEX
A
Aaron, Mrs 416
Abbot, Jerry 75-76
Adam, Miss 13
Adamowski, T 213
Agassiz and Gould .... 4-5
Ain-es-Suttan 55
Ajaccio 257, 258, 259, 260, 263
Albert Nyanza 42
Alcott, Louisa M 293
Alexandria .... 22, 46, 57
Algeciras 190
Algiers 302, 454
Alhambra, 135, 140, 184, 190,
215
' ' Alice in Wonderland " ; 73
Allen, Freddy 223
Allison, Senator 335
Alma-Tadema . . . 137, 191
Altona 104, 109
Amory, Charles 56
Amory, William . . . 144, 150
Andalusia 130
Anthony, Susan B. ... 294
Antwerp 126
Appledore
Appleton, D. & Co. . . . 257
Appleton, T. G., 63, 78, 141,
175
Arnold, Matthew .... 464
Arro Hondo 344
Asquith, Mr 460
Assuan . . 35,42,44,401,402
Atkinson, Annie . . 18, 19, 56
Atkinson, Caroline P., 286, 300,
301, 323, 356, 373, 398, 399,
406, 421, 422, 423, 430, 439,
442, 443, 444, 448, 451, 454,
467
Austen, 143
Azores 454
B
Babcock, Mrs 200
Bachi's 1
Back Bay Station . . 349, 427
Bacon, Mrs 211, 213
Baier, Frau 120
Balch, Nelly 147
Baldwins 201
Balfour, Mr 461
Ball, Mrs 1
" Balloon-Post " 64, 67, 68, 69, 70
Baltimore 372
Bancroft, Harriet 112, 205, 206
Bangs, Dr 256
Barbauld, Mrs 447
Barlow, Mrs. Francis C. . 214
Barnard, Inman 7
Bayard, Ellen 207
Beaman, . • • 277, 278
Bell, Mr. and Mrs. Graham 203
Bell, Helen . . . 252, 355, 357
"Bella:Donna" 458
Belzoni 38
"Benefactress" 397
Beni-Hassan 33
Beni-Suef 30, 32
Benson, E. F 434
Berdan, General 208
Berdan, Mrs 233
Berlow, Herr 104
Berry, Mrs. Van Rensselaer 202
Besh-bish 37
Bethany 55-56
Bethlehem 51-57
Biber, Frau, 102, 104, 110, 121,
123
Billingsgate Market ... 84
Bird, Erne 254
Bizerta 455
Blake, Anna 268
Blaine, James G 208
Blatchford, Judge and Mrs., 212,
233
Bliss, Alexander 203
Block Island . . 421, 422, 451
Blodgett, Nelly ...... 269
"Bohemian Girl" .... 453
Boldini 333
Boleyn, Ann 85
Bonaparte 263
Boston, 1, 4, 138, 144, 196, 230,
252, 351, 354, 356, 397, 453
474
INDEX
Boston Art Museum . . . 453
Boston Fire 94, 105
Boston Opera House . . . 453
Boston Theatre 453
Boulak 29
Bovell, 392
Bowbridge 388
Bowditch, Katharine P. 299, 332
Bowditch, Ned 77
Bowditch, Vincent .... 256
Bradford, Fanny .... 5
Bradford, Gam 5
Bradley, Mrs. Peth ... 227
Braham, Mrs., 317, 318, 319, 320,
321
Brain Club 75, 83
Brewer, Judge and Mrs., 233,
234
Bright, Dr 425
British Museum .... 85
Brook Cherith 55
Brookline. . . 15, 17, 108, 452
Brooks, Mrs. ...... 68
Brown, Jim 364
Brown, Mr 156, 157
Brown, Theo. ...... 371
Browns Town, Jamaica, 377,
381, 387, 408, 409, 413, 416
Browning, Joseph, 197, 227, 229
Browning, Mrs. Joseph 378, 410
Browning, Robert, 274, 275, 300,
336, 339, 350, 363, 378, 397,
427
Browning, Mrs. Robert * . 472
Browning, Thomas W., 274, 275,
423
Browning, Willard F. 423, 452
Bruces 52, 53, 55
Buffalo 341
"Bug Light" 346
Burgess, Gelett 434
Burke, Judge and Mrs. 394, 395
Burnett, 207
Burney's, Miss, "Cecilia" 453
Burns 170, 171
Bursley, Annie E., 22, 25, 28, 46,
78, 230, 265, 447,
Bursley, Caroline W. . . 447
Brussells 124
Butcher, Miss . 184, 367, 368
Butler, Theodore, 173, 174, 176,
224
Byron, Harriet 469
C
Cabot, Follen 14
Cabot, Mr. and Mrs. Sam'l 343
Cabots 434
Cadiz 190
Cairo 24,45,402
California . . . 266, 340, 432
"Call of the Wild" ... 387
Calzontzi 159, 160
Cambridge 252
Campeche 152, 154
"Candida" 397
Cannes, 315, 316, 423, 424, 455,
456, 457, 460, 461, 462, 463,
464, 466, 467
Cano, Alonzo 134
Canonicut 335
Capoul 72
Card, Alvin .... 431, 439
Carlyle 170
Carnes, Mrs 140
Carpenter, Geo. O. . 235, 240
Carpenter, Mrs. Geo. O., 235,
238, 239, 240, 241
Castroville 345
Caton, Mrs 288
Chamberlain, Mary ... 7, 8
Chamberlain, Will . . . 307
Champlin, Elisha, 227, 229, 246,
283, 294, 448
Chandler, 335
Chaney, Rev. and Mrs. 393, 421
Channings 434
Charles River 442
Charleston 330, 334
Chase, Charles . . .69, 70, 71
Chautauqua 346
Cheney, Ednah D 72
"Cherubina" .... 240, 452
Chicago, 71, 200, 271, 278, 279,
287, 292, 431, 433, 434, 435,
437
Child, Nat 77, 111
"Children of the Abbey" 213,
214
"Children of the Mist" . 363
"Chippendales, The" . . 401
Chopin's Funeral March . 456
Church, "Downie," 141, 157, 250,
251
Church, E. A. . 435, 457, 459
Church, Frederick E., 128, 140,
142, 143, 156, 157, 158, 163,
164, 165, 181, 242, 250, 251
Church, Mrs. Frederick E., 128,
140, 141, 148, 150, 158, 165,
250, 251
Church, Louis P., 141, 247, 248,
249, 250, 251, 439, 456
Church, Mrs. Louis P. . . 372
Church, Winthrop .... 115
INDEX
475
Church of Holy Sepulchre 47, 45
City of Mexico 147
Clark, Abigail W. . . 426, 428
Clark, Lionel 246
Clarke, George L», 194, 246, 309,
327, 356, 377
Cleopatra 37, 402
Cleveland, Grover . . 201, 207
Cleveland, Mrs. Grover, 206,
207, 214
Clymer, Miss 203
Codman, Mrs. E. A. See Bow-
ditch, K. P.
Codman, Stephen .... 355
Coke, Mrs. . . . 390, 392, 393
Cole, Judge .... 408, 410
Coleman, 14
Colossi, Great 39
Constantine 456
Conyngham, Lord and Lady 56
Cook 450, 451
Coolidge, Mrs. David . . 288
Coope, Ind 44
Copelin, Mrs 239, 240
Copts 33
Cordova 131
Corsica .... 257, 258, 260
Cortes 152
Court House, Ulster Springs 411
Coventry Water 419
Cowles, Mrs^ 445
Crosby, Admiral and Mrs. 234
Cummings, Mrs 232
Cunningham, Edith . . . 434
Cunningham, Mrs. Edward 66
Curtis, Dan 61
Curtis, Isabella . . . 225, 356
Curtis, Mary 356
Curtis, Rafe 182
Cushing, Howard .... 337
Curzon, Mary 184
D
Da Vinci 161
Dahabieh Aziz . . . 401, 404
Damascus 57
Damon, Ethel . . . 367, 369
Davis, Bancroft ... 211, 233
Davis, Mrs. Bancroft . . 233
Davis, Harriet 2
Davis, J 69, 72, 78
Davis, May 313
Davis, Rev. Mr 56
Davis, Theodore . . . 403, 405
Dawes, Anna .... 207, 234
Dawes, Mrs 207
Dawes, Senator 234
Day, Susan, 254, 255, 258, 260,
264, 334, 341
De Forest, Mrs 277
De Morgan 458
De Reszke, Jean 310
Dead Sea ... 52, 53, 54, 57
Delano, Mrs. F. A. . 434, 435
Denderah 37
Depew, Chauncey L. . . . 445
Dexter, Mrs. Gordon. . . 107
Dexter, Hannah ... 6
Dewey, Almira .... 74, 184
Dickens 231
Diman, John 194
Dinsmoor, Mary B., 10, 74, 106,
118, 363, 370, 383, 397, 462,
469
Dobson, Austin 231
Dodge, 77
Dorr, Charles 93, 96
Dorr, Mary 77
Douglass, Frederick ... 201
Dry-Harbour ...... 413
Dudley, Dr. 201, 279, 287, 292
Dudley, Mrs 287
Dudley, Lord Guildford . 85
Duff-Gordon, Lady ... 41
Duff-Gordon, Young . . . 43
Duncan Town, Jamaica . 412
Dutton, Transcript ... 71
Dwight, Dan 14
Dwight, Mrs 16
Dyer, Governor of R. I. . 335
E
Eastburn, Rev 51
Eddy, Mrs 286
Edfou 41
Edison 266
Edmunds, Mary 212
Edmunds, Mrs. . 212, 233, 234
Edmunds, Senator . 212, 233
Edwards, Amelia B. . . . 231
Edward the Confessor . . 84
Egypt 25-458
"Elderblows" 396
"Elixir of Youth" 202,250,447
Emerson, Ellen 94
Emerson, Mr 4
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 69, 94,
171, 294
Emmons, Miss 2
Evarts, Senator . . .
. . 233
"Evelina"
. . 238
Everett, Charlotte . .
. . 2
Everett, "Eddy" . .
. . 2
Everett, Edward . .
. 2, 461
476
INDEX
Everett, Kitty 203
Everett, Liddy 2
Everett, Lucy 2
Everett, Marianne .... 2
Everett, Mrs. Percival L. 265
Everett, William, 18, 335, 461,
462, 3
F
. . 214
. . 420
377, 412,
147
204
252
94
12
292
233
69
Fairbanks, Vice-President 445
Fairchild, Mrs. Secretary, 206,
208
Fairchild, Secretary
Falder, Mr. and Mrs.
Falmouth, Jamaica,
413
"Family Flight" .
"Female Quixote" .
Fenelosas
Fessenden, Mr. . .
Fetti
Field, Marshall . .
Field, Judge and Mrs
Fields and Osgood .
Finkenstein, Am. V. Consul, 47,
49
Fiske, John 240
Forbes 434
Forbes, Margaret and Fanny 66
Folsom, Mrs 206
Forest, Mr 27
Florence, Italy . . . 222, 223
Francis, Dr. T. E 17
Francis, G. Tappan . . . 357
Franklin, "Old" 196,227,229,
242, 246, 284, 301
Franklin, Cornelia, 167, 168, 242,
243, 244, 281, 282, 283, 298,
299, 364
Franklin, Sir John .
"Free Soil" party .
French Fair ....
Frontera
Frothingham, Anne
Frothingham, Ellen
Frothingham, Edward
Frothingham, O. B.
Frothingham, "Ma"
Frothingham, "Pa"
Frothingham, Tom
Fuller, Justice and Mrs
Fullum, 2, 19, 35, 49, 214, 309,
461
191
2
61
152
1,2
2, 77
2
73
2
2
2
233
Gandara 333
Garden of Gethsemane . . 55
Gardiner, Dr. H. K. . 471, 472
Garfield, Mrs -444
Gaucin 187, 188
Germany . 102, 119
Gibraltar, 181, 182, 184, 185, 186
Gilman, Leila 203
Gilman, Francis, 298, 301, 329,
361, 364
Gillette, William .... 361
Gitana, Yacht . 215, 217, 222
Gladstone 417
Glessner, Mrs., 200, 201, 287,
290, 292
Glover, P. S 432
Gobantes 189, 190
Goddard, Dr 215
Goddard, Minna .... 466
Goddard, M. L. . . . 316, 402
Goddard, Mr. ... 252-329
Godwin, Nora, 277, 305, 306,
307, 313, 314, 323, 334
Godwin, Parke 285
Goethals, Mrs. George W. 446
Goethe 171
Goodchild, Jerry .... 337
Goodchild, Mrs 281
Gordon, Mr 367
Gordon, Professor .... 5
Grand Duke Michael 455, 456
"Grandison, Sir Charles," 201,
205, 267, 336, 469
Grant, Deacon 6
Granada . . 134, 136, 184, 190
Gray, Charles Bartlett 363, 430
Gray, Gerald 274, 275
. . 302
65, 233
. . 302
83
179, 180,
Gray, Geraldine
Gray, Judge .
Gray, Louise .
Green Grocers.
Greene, Mrs. Anna,
181, 322, 323, 383
Grey, Judge Horace ... 211
Grey, Bessie 211
Grisi 453
Gross, Mrs 153
Guadalquivir 132
Guild, Harriet 358
Guild, Lizzie 16
Gulf of Mexico 438
Hale, Alexander . . 1, 2, 3, 4
Hale, Arthur 331, 334, 372, 471
Hale, Charles, 15, 22, 61, 67, 70,
80, 102
Hale, Edward Everett, 11, 47,
128, 170, 171, 191, 193, 194,
201, 243, 244, 247, 248, 249,
IXDEX
477
301, 314, 334, 335, 346, 347,
348, 355, 357, 370, 384, 406,
424, 426, 428, 442, 444, 445,
462, 463
Hale, Mrs. Edward Everett 444
Hale, Edward Everett, Jr., 194,
195, 230, 242, 249, 266, 293,
301, 466, 471
Hale, Mrs. E. E., Jr. See Per-
kins T\Osp
Hale, Ellen Day, 128, 144, 170,
352, 362, 365, 380, 385, 396,
399, 408, 414, 426, 427, 428,
444, 445, 449, 452, 454, 455,
460, 461, 463, 464, 466, 468,
469, 470, 472
Hale, Eugene 203
Hale family 34-58
Hale, Herbert D. . . . 192-194
Hale, Lucretia P., 2, 5, 7, 13,
14, 16, 22, 25, 71, 72, 73, 78,
79, 82, 88, 94, 97, 102, 110,
124, 128, 133, 136, 140, 141,
143, 145, 147, 151, 152, 155,
167, 171, 179, 180, 182, 184,
192, 194, 196, 199, 200, 202,
203, 206, 209, 215, 217, 222,
226, 229, 232, 234, 235, 238,
243, 248, 249, 250, 252, 253,
258, 262, 268, 269, 274, 276,
278, 279, 281, 283, 287, 292,
293, 296, 298, 302, 303, 307,
312, 329, 336, 338, 339, 343,
462
Hale, Nathan 6, 45
Hale, Mrs. Nathan ... 12
Hale, Philip L., 167, 170, 171,
172, 173, 174, 176, 180, 181,
224, 247, 249, 283, 284, 286,
301, 336, 355, 453
Hale, Robert Beverly, 192, 194,
229, 230, 247, 248, 249, 250,
266, 286, 287, 300
Hale, Sarah 2
"Half Sheet Club" ... 364
Hall, Mary 8, 183
Hall, Mrs. S. C 87
Halley's Comet 455
Hamlin, Mrs 129, 130
Hanbury, Sir John .... 185
Hardy, Thomas 451
Harkmudt, Frau .... 114
Harlan, Judge 233
Harmony, Mrs. Commodore 207
Harper's 144
Harper, President .... 287
Harrison, Alexander . . . 249
Harrison, Birge 344
Hart, William Howard . . 302
Harte, Bret 69, 195
Hartog 223, 225
Hassan, 26, 28, 30, 34, 35, 36,
38, 39, 42, 49, 55
Hathaway 256
Hawes, Mr. and Mrs. . . 343
Hawley, Governor .... 335
Hay, John 212
Haynes, George 333
Hazard's place 342
Head, Annie 18
Hebron 51, 57, 58
Hedge, Charlotte A., 265, 429,
440, 446, 450, 451
Hedge, Rev. Frederick H., 15,
16, 17, 73, 74, 78, 100, 101
Hemenway, Mrs 240
Henn, Lieutenant . . 191, 306
"Henrietta" 396
Henrv, Mr. and Mrs., 367, 368,
369
Herf, Mrs 239
Herring Salad ... 116, 117
Herst ... 90, 91, 96, 100, 101
"Heth, A daughter of". . 112
Hettstedt, Frau 110
Hichens 458
Higginsons 434
Higginson concert .... 310
Higginson, T. Wentworth. 363
Highland St., No. 39 . 443, 462
Hill, J. Donald, Mr. and
Mrs., 416, 417, 418, 419, 421
Hoar, Mrs 207, 208
Hoar, Ruth .... 232, 233
Hoar, Senator . 208, 233, 334
Hobart, Vice-President . 335
Hobson, Mrs., 203, 209, 210, 211,
212
Hoffman, Colonel .... 95
Holmes, John 96
Holmes, Judge 445
Homans 93, 95
Homans, Dr. John .... 75
Homans, "Johnny" ... 71
Homans, Mrs. Charles D., 75,
357
Homestake Mines 428, 435, 466
Hood, Tom 449
Hooper, Clover 78
Hooper, Edward 20
Hooper girls 403
Hooper, Dr. Sturgis . . . 180
Horas 37, 402, 403
Horseless carriage . . 329, 333
Houghton and Mifflin . . 459
Howe, Billy 27
478
INDEX
Howe, Julia Ward 64, 71, 72, 75
Howe, Murray 20
Howells, William Dean, 61, 137
Howells, Mrs. Wm. Dean, 61,
137
Howland, Judge . 277, 278, 334
Hudson, New York . 140, 452
Hugo, Victor 171
Huneker's "Egoists". . . 451
Hurlbut, Mary 310
Hummel, Professor 100, 113, 114
Hummel, Frau 110
Hunt, William D., 63, 64, 65, 66,
67
Hunt, Mrs. Wm. D., 63, 64, 65,
66, 67, 68
Iowa City . 293
Ipswich, Jamaica . . 416, 420
Ironside, Mrs 212
Irving, Henry . . . 138, 285
Irwin, Agnes 358
Jackson, Edward .... 357
Jaffa 57
Jamaica, 373, 376, 377, '381, 383,
384, 393, 414, 415, 444
James, Harriet. See Bancroft,
Harriet
James, Henry 359
Jepson, Alice 144
Jericho 54, 57
Jerusalem, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 55,
56
Johannesburg 360
Johnson, J. Aug 83
Johnson, Sam .... 140, 332
Johnston, James 287
Johnston, John . 181, 185, 190
Johnston, Fanny, 181, 182, 184,
185, 186
Jordan River . . 48, 53, 54, 57
Judas 148
Karnak 39, 40, 403
Keating, Mary, 428, 438, 439,
440, 445, 448, 449, 452, 454,
456, 459, 460, 462, 467, 468,
469, 470, 471
Keene 9, 108
Keith's Theatre 332
Keneh 37
Kendall, Jamaica .... 389
Kenyon, Welcome .... 243
Kidder and Peabody . . 466
Kingston, Jamaica . 384, 421
Kingston, Rhode Island . 452
Kirkland, Miss 359
Kirsch, Madame . . 302, 305
Kruger 360
Kumpf 330
Kuhn, Grace 205
La Farge 190
Lackland, Mrs 239
Lamar, Senator and Mrs. . 233
Lambert, , 316, 317, 318,
319, 330, 321
Lang, Andrew 331
Langley, Professor . 203, 212
Lansing, Reverend .... 56
"Last of the Peterkins" . 459
Laughlin, Professor . 292, 293
Lausanne 424
Lawrence, Arthur, 27, 49, 50, 51,
52, 53, 55
Lawrence, Mrs 379
Learned, Mr. and Mrs. . 238
Lee, Elliott C 215
Leghorn 222
Leiter, Miss 200
Leiter, Mrs 234
Leland, Dr 432
Lend-a-Hand 171
Leonard, Dr. and Mrs. . . 212
Lennox, Charlotte .... 396
Lesley, Peter, 25, 28, 29, 30, 37,
39 45
Lesley, Susan, 25, 28, 29, 38, 40,
55
Lind, Jenny 453
Linzee, Anita, 216, 218, 219, 223,
224, 225
Little and Brown .... 459
Lloyd George 460
Lockhart, Mrs 191
Lodge, Henry Cabot, 203, 214,
335, 445
Lodge, Mrs. Henry Cabot 234
Lodge, Mary 88
Loeb, Mr 467
London 137, 253
London Daily Telegraph 460, 461
Longfellow 171, 294
Longfellow, Charles, 316, 317,
470
Longfellow, Ernest, 146, 314, 315,
403, 405
INDEX
479
Longfellow, Mrs. Ernest, 314,
315, 403, 405
Loring, Anna 8
Loring, Charles ... 68, 252
Loring, Mrs. Charles 252, 358
Loring, G. B., Mr. and Mrs. 208
Loring, Marquis de Casa . 134
Loring, Sallie . . . . 203, 208
Loring, Seraphina .... 134
Loring, Susie .... 206, 213
Lothrop, Dr. . . . 334, 384
Lothrop, Mr. and Mrs. S. K. 87
Louis Napoleon 68
" Loving Ballad of Lord
Bateman," 75
Lowell, James Russell, 88, 89,
93, 94, 96, 129, 252
Lowell, Mrs. Jas. Russell, 88, 89,
96
Lowell, Mrs. John .... Ill
Lowell, Mamie .... 18, 20
Lowell, Olivia .... 18, 20
Lowndes, 214
Lucca ...... 307, 309
Lucea, Jamaica 393
Lucrezia Borgia 453
"Lunatic at Large" . . . 359
Luxor 40, 402
Lyman, Mrs. Theodore . . 13
Lymans 434
M
Macaulay's Essays . . . . 417
Mackfield, Jamaica 394, 395
Mackinney, " Larry " . . . 448
Madeira 365
Madrazo 333
Madrid 129, 130
Maeterlinck 364
Maggi, Signora Caterina 308
Maggi, Francesco .... 307
"Magic Casement" . 447,449
Malaga 132, 134, 217
Mali, Fanny 334
Manchester, Jamaica. . . 388
Mandeville, Jamaica . . . 392
Manhattan Hotel, 372, 406, 439,
452
Mariette Bey 41
Mario 72, 453
Marquand, Greta .... 192
Marquand, Mary .... 128
Marsaba 47, 52
Marseilles . . . 130, 467, 469
Mary, Queen of Scots . . 84
Mason, Lawrence .... 27
Matlack, Charles .... 198
Matlack, Mrs. Charles . . 416
Matlacks 448
Matunuck, 128, 149, 151, 167,
170, 171, 191, 194, 196, 199,
226, 229, 242, 243, 246, 248,
265, 274, 281, 283, 286, 295,
296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301,
327, 336, 339, 349, 350, 360,
361, 362, 363, 365, 369, 370,
385, 396, 397, 399, 400, 401,
421, 422, 426, 429, 433, 439,
446, 449, 450, 451, 452, 471,
472
Maximilian 172, 174
McElroy, . 192, 193, 194
McGuire, Mrs. . . . 204, 213
Mediterranean Sea. . 459, 469
" Meistersingers " .... 99
Mendineh Haboo .... 39
Mercer, Billy, 216, 218, 220, 222,
229
Meredith, George 231, 340, 451
Mermod, Dr 424
"Merope" ....... 464
Mexico 128, 144
Mile Gully 389, 390
Miller, Dr 377, 408
Miller, Judge and Mrs. . 233
Millet, Frank 138
Minyeh 29, 33
Mississippi 437
Montego Bay, Jamaica, 408, 414,
416
Monterey 343
Morelia 156
Morrell, Senator and Mrs. 233
Morse, Prof. Edward S. . 252
Morton, Vice-President. . 233
Morton, Mrs. Vice-Pres., 212,
233
Moses, Ann, 409, 410, 411, 413,
419, 420
Motley, Minna 30
Moulton, May 369
Mount of Olives ... 55, 56
Mountains of Moab ... 53
Murillo 129, 141
Mustafa Aga 37, 40
Myers, Rev. F. B 374
' ' Mysteries of Udolpho ' ' 452
N
Naples 312, 467, 470
Nazareth 57
Nervi 303
Newberry, Mrs 445
Newport 150, 285
480
INDEX
New Orleans . . 343, 444, 446
New York, 196, 209, 329, 360,
439, 452, 467, 471
New York Sun ... 461, 462
Nice 226, 456
Nile ... 28, 34, 402, 404, 458
Nilsson 72
Nordhoffs 268
"Norma" 453
North Pole 450, 451
Noyes, Alfred . . . 447, 449
Oak of Abraham .... 51
Olana, 140, 141, 143, 248, 250,
372, 439, 453
Olivers 342
Olmsted, Mrs. Fred'k L. . 396
Orange Hill, Jamaica. . . 415
"Ordeal of MarcusOrdeyne" 434
Otis, Mrs 9
P
Pablo Plata, Senor, 157, 159, 160,
161, 162
Pacht 37
Palermo 262
Palm Sunday 47
Palmer, Alice Freeman, 288, 289,
291, 292, 293
Palmer, Mrs. Potter ... 200
Palmer, Prof. George H. . 292
Panama Canal 425
Pancho Arriaga 163
Paris, 88, 177, 180, 226, 322, 402
Park Street corner .... 119
Parkman, Francis . . . 29, 35
Pass Christian .... 437
Patzcuaro . . . 155, 156, 157
Peabody, Frank 6
Peabody, "Ma" 15
Peabody, Oliver ... 6, 261
Peabody, William .... 6
Peary 451
Pellew, 212
Perabo 458
Perier Freres .... 178, 181
Perkins, Alice 246
Perkins, Mrs. Evelyn, 403, 405,
447
Perkins, Mrs. Jas. H., Biog-
raphy of 434
Perkins, Roger 448
Perkins, Rose . . . 246, 448
Perry, Walter 281
Persia 242
Peter and'PauTs church . 456
Peterkins 384
Pharaoh 402
Phelps, Wm. Walter ... 212
Philadelphia 445
Philae 43, 402
Philpots 451
Pickerings 389, 390
Piper, Dr. ... 400, 430, 433
Pisa 222
Pitman, Minot 249
"Plea of the Midsummer
Fairies" 449
Point Judith 151
Poor, William ...... 277
Port Antonio, Jamaica 373, 380
Port Maria, Jamaica 392, 393
Potter, Jeffrey 227
Pratt, Ellerton 357
Pratt, Mrs. Ellerton 355, 357
Preble, 403
Preston, Agnes 445
Providence 196
Ptolemies 37
Putnam, Dr. 16
Putnam, Georgina .... 64
Putnam, Miss 252
Putnam, Mrs. Sam ... 64
Pyramids 45, 46
Quincy, Mary Edmund . . 180
Quornah, Temple of . . . 38
R
Rachel 9, 89, 453
Rachel's Tomb 50
Ramses ... 37, 38, 42, 403
Rand, Daisy 342
Reade, Charles 68
Redmond, Mr 461
Reece, Judge 377
Reece, Miss 392
Reed, Mr 128
Repplier, Agnes . . . . . 238
Richardson, Dr. Benjamin
Waed 256
" Richardson, Samuel, Cor-
respondence of " . . . 447
Rice, Harry .... 247, 248
Riha 54
Ritchie, Mrs 93
Rochester 346
Rodgers, Admiral .... 210
Rodman, Effie 446
Rodman, Emma . . 32, 355
INDEX
481
Rodmans 26, 27, 30, 44, 86, 87
Rogers Brothers .... 351
Rogers family 287
Rogers, Lily 414
Rogers, Mr 358
Rome 222
Ronda 188, 190
Rousseau 170
Roxbury 334,442
Ruthven 56
Rye 12
Salvator Rosa 141
San Francisco, 266, 267, 268,
434
San Ysidro 340
Sanborn, Frank ... 290, 291
Sands, Mrs 233
Santa Barbara, 266, 267, 342,
343
Sargent, Mr 153
Sayles, Henry 357
Schiller 170
Schmit, Herr 114
Scott, Miss 410
Scudder, Mr 141
Sea of Galilee 57
Sebastian, Albert, 197, 229, 246,
275, 386
Sebastian, Louisa, 226, 227, 229,
275, 276, 282, 296, 300, 301,
350, 370, 386, 387, 399, 400,
422, 423, 426, 427
Seville 128
Sharp, Miss . . 152, 153, 154
Shaw, Bernard 397
Shellah 402
Shippen, Rev. Rush . 204, 205
Shurtleff, Dr 78
"Siegfried" 214
Sierra Nevada 136
Silsilis 42
' ' Singular Miss Smith " . . 397
Siut 34, 35, 43
Smith, Alice 264
Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Jo-
seph Linden 403
Smith, Mary W 440
Smith, Mr. and Mrs. N. W., 426,
430, 440, 443, 448, 453
Smith, Mrs. N. W. See Ellen
H. Weeden
Smith, Nat 440
Smith, Mrs. .... 264
Smith, Sibley C 448
Smythe, Mrs. ■ 408
Solomon's Pools 49
Spain .... 180, 181, 182
Spanish Town, Jamaica . 383
St. Elizabeths, Jamaica. . 420
St. Louis .... 235, 238, 239
St. Paul 269, 270
St. Petersburg 456
Staigg, Mrs. R. M. See Annie
Atkinson
Stanley, Dean 55
Steedman, Adm. and Mrs. 211
Stevens, B. F., 83, 84, 86, 87,
125, 137, 255, 256, 257, 313,
324, 326
Stevenson, Robert Louis . 231
Stewart Town, Jamaica . 408
Stone, Mrs. . . 204, 214
Story, Mrs. Judge .... 3
Stoughton, Kate 211
Subway 328
Sullivan T. Russell, 224, 311, 355,
403
Sumner, Charles ... 3, 328
Surbiton .... 136, 323, 324
"Susan's Roost" . . 387,414
"Sybarite," The . . 193,230
Tabasco River 152
Tangier 190, 191
Tarvil, 26, 29, 30, 32, 33, 35, 41
Taylor, Mrs. .... 204
Taylor, Zachary .... 3
Tecalote . 344
Teft, Mrs 298
Tel-el-amana 28
Tennyson ... 171, 191, 231
Terry, Ellen .... 138, 285
Thackeray 34
Thayer, Mrs. Nathaniel . 202
Theatre Francais . . . 89, 95
Thebes .... 37,39,40,41
Thomas, Theodore . 292, 435
Thormoses 37
Thorndike Hotel, 329, 332, 333,
383, 431
Thoron, Ward 214
Tibbetts, John
Ticknor, Mrs.
Tilden, Linzee
Tillman, Senator
Tod, Mr. and Mrs.
Toledo Cathedral .
Tombs of the Kings
"Touchstone," The
Touraine Hotel . .
Townsend, Mrs. . .
. 355
. 384
254, 255
. 445
. 278
. 463
38
. 359
. 327
. 367
482
INDEX
Transcript, Boston Evening, 68,
71, 135; 429
Travers, Susan ..... 334
Trelawney, Jamaica
"Tristam Lacy" .
"Trovatore" .
Troy, Jamaica
Tucker,
416, 420
. 351
. 453
. 419
26
299, 336
428, 471
Tucker, Abby
Tucker, Mamie
Tuckerman, Emily, 203, 205, 206
"Turn of the leaf in Au-
tumn" 443
Turnbull, Miss .... 211
Tzintzuntzan .... 159, 160
u
Ulster Springs, Jamaica, 408, 409,
411, 419, 420
Uncle Tom Lee 98
Union Club .... 333, 356
Uruapan 162
Utica 346
Van Buren, Martin ... 3
Van Lennep . 28, 30, 33, 36, 37
Vanete, Senor 154
Velasquez 129
Vera Cruz . 144, 145, 153, 155
Vincent, Bishop 348
Vocal Statue 39
Voltaire 170, 171
Von Gersdorff 105
Von Gross, Frau, 102, 103, 104,
105, 110
W
Wales, Mary Ann
1,2
Walker, Admiral
202
Walker, Dr. Mary
207
Wanamaker . . .
235
Ward, Artemus .
36
Ward, Samuel . .
214
Warder, . .
20
9,
21
0
212
Ware, William Robert, 183, 278,
334
Warner, Charles Dudley, 128,
137, 156, 157, 158, 159, 161,
162, 163, 165
Warner, Mrs. Chas. Dudley, 138,
250, 251, 372
Warren Ill
Washington, 202, 203, 206, 232,
234, 334, 335, 444, 445
Waumbek 14
Weather Man 445
Weeden, Ellen H., 246, 340,
365, 386, 400, 415, 418, 426,
422
Weeden, James V., 228, 247,
378
Weeden, Leila, 228, 230, 247, 250,
251
Weeden, Mary Bailey . . 246
Weeden, Raymer B. . 228, 247
Weeden, Wm. B., 364, 377, 386,
398, 400, 401, 416, 421, 427,
431, 441
Weeden, Mrs. Wm. B., 376, 378,
386, 441, 443, 452
Weeden, Wm. W 246
Weedens, 196, 197, 227, 228, 246,
386, 447, 448
Weesa, "Brother" ... 35
Weimar, 99, 100, 102, 106, 107,
108, 110, 118
Weld, William F., 216, 220, 222,
223 224 225
Weld,' Mrs! William F., 216, 218,
219, 220, 222, 223, 225
Weld, Mrs. William G., 138,
149, 170, 191, 196, 215, 224,
248, 265, 266, 283, 285, 295,
315, 316, 322, 324, 327, 328,
330, 334, 339, 346, 349, 350,
351, 356, 358, 360, 361, 369,
372, 387, 400, 401, 424, 426,
429, 430, 431, 433, 437
Wells, Charles B 286
Wells, Mrs. Charles B., 286, 351,
422
West Roxbury 37
Westminster Abbey ... 83
Wharton, Edith 359
Wheeler, Ellen 7
White House 206
White Mountains . . 134, 135
Whitehouse, Remson . . . 403
Whitman, Mrs. Henry . . 252
Whitney, Mrs. Secretary 213
Whitwell, Horatio ... 93, 95
Whitwell, Sophia ... 93, 95
Wight, Reverend Mr. . . 51
Wild, H 75, 77
Willard, Frances 445
Williams, Gwadys .... 286
Williams, Hugh . . . 248, 249
Williams, Mary E., 286, 323,
381, 404, 406, 444, 467
Williams, Moses, 19, 248, 447
Williams, Mrs. Moses 248, 391
Wilson, Belle 201
INDEX
483
Wilson, Charlotte .... 9
' ' Wings of the Morning ' ' 397
Winn, Mrs 291
Winthrop, Mr 3
Winthrop, R. C 311
Wise, Charlotte 211
Wister, Mrs 367
Wood, Mrs 211
Worden's Pond 492
Young, the Librarian , . 335
Young's "Night Thoughts" 451
Third Printing
LETTERS
OF SUSAN HALE
EDITED BY
CAROLINE P. ATKINSON
INTRODUCTION BY
EDWARD E. HALE
Vivacious, witty, full of surprising little ex-
pressions and colloquialisms, descriptions of
dinner parties and casual events that bring to
notice Emerson, Lowell, and representative
people in social and literary circles in Boston,
Newport, Paris, and other parts of the world,
illustrated with funny little sketches — these
letters have an interest, value, and charm
rarely found.
You will read them aloud, and you will tell
your friends about them.
A Distinctive Gift Book
&S81
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