[Boston—Wednesday, 6 February 1867]
Wednesday. Yesterday the atmosphere grew lovely & I was out four hours. I do not know what the old Athenians would say if they were with us at a woman’s being in the street four hours in the day and it being rather a common thing than otherwise! But in the present condition of our life I can neither see well how to avoid it nor do I find it other than helpful to the physical health. There are so many persons who can not go out who wish to know how the world ways and expect those who have health to come to them, then there are errands to be done for the house and the new pictures to be observed and studied thus making one’s knowledge of art more clear and one’s judgment better, then there is the walk for the sake of the fresh air itself with husband or sister who have been shut up during the morning and need change and wish companionship—now with all these things—duties—pleasures—both or neither—or whatever you call them—is it not better for me to go out? But between such ramblings and housekeeping which I do not neglect there is small time left for literature. I neither write nor read alas! I must set myself to make time and as the days grow longer this will be more possible. ________ interrupted here by a visit from Mary Lowell Putnam—one belonging to my “cloud of witnesses” and yet, thank God, still belonging to the earth.
In the afternoon called on Miss Catherine Sedgwick who, although the shadow of years is over her, sits by her fireside and talks wittily and wisely of things divine and human. I have never known a more lovely and spirited talker—the two elements are exquisitely combined and as we rarely see them, the expression of the tenderest sentiment relieved by a wit which cheers yet never offends us by the contrast.
Dear J. went with me and when we came out the sunshine had taken on a divine aspect. Life looks heroic even from an everyday standpoint when such friends cheer us by their smiles.
