[Boston—Wednesday, 21 March 1866]

March 21st My old school friend Lucy Bradlee passed yesterday here. In the morning attended a meeting of the Freedmen’s society at Mrs Loring’s where a valuable and interesting letter was read from Mrs Hawks giving us a clearer idea of the condition of affairs in South Carolina than I had been able previously to gather. She is an invaluable woman. She describes a large society of free educated blacks who are far nearer what we consider civilization than the whites round about them. Unfortunately the women teachers sent by the New York commission understand their labor so little as to consider it beneath them to visit the parents of the scholars, while a silent feud has been ingendered by these foolish women. “They know not what they do”! Nor what a glorious work they avoid doing.

I was struck with Mrs Loring’s clear head, her self-forgetfulness and executive ability.

Saw a photograph of J.S. Mill—noble head, noble man.

Did an errand after leaving Mrs Loring’s and then went to call on Lilian Aldrich. Found her ill—she entertained me however with an account of her husband’s hiding in her closet and coming out with an injured expression because she did not hunt for him. They seem to me such children those two, floating on the gentle surface of their lives thus far, but now the seas begin to toss and I fancy them to be a little sad and troubled sometimes when they peer rashly into the uncertain future. He is our cousin to the singing birds and she his gay and twiting-chirping mate. I wish a fortune for them but we must all learn not simply float and sing and sigh.

I saw an odd bit of a story in Arthur H. Clough’s memoirs the other day about an ancestress of his. Lady Elizabeth Tudor who was a near relative of the Great Queen. Lady E. having married and losing her husband early, two old admirers of hers attended upon her to the church where the funeral service was performed. Sir Richard Clough waited upon her into the church and Sir Edward Truny (?) [i.e., Thelwell] came out with her. As the latter gentleman was holding her hand he requested her to accept him as her husband. I thank you she replied, Sir Edward, but you are too late, Sir Richard handed me into the church and I have already accepted him but if anything should occur at a future date we may be more fortunate.

The story runs that Sir Richard did slip off the mortal soil at an early date when the lady seized the opportunity to fulfill her promise to Sir Edward.

Jamie went again to Mr Longfellow’s. Mr Blodgett of N.Y. accompanied him. After the Dante (21st canto Paradiso) Mr Lowell read a poem—a satire on a late translation of Homer dedicated to General Lee of Confederate renown!! by an Englishman. He was well applauded.


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