[Manchester—Thursday, 3 July 1873]

Thursday July 3. Left Manchester early for the Isles of Shoals. As we drew near Portsmouth which is quite as much our goal as the islands on account of the Centennial Celebration which is to come off there tomorrow, we found the little place gay with flags and already hot with excitement. Mrs Bartlett in a blue gown was leaning head and shoulders out of window and front blinds were thrown recklessly open regardless of flies! We drove at once to the boat but not altogether without recognition, but it had been previously understood we were not to stay in Portsmouth so all worked well. As we sat on the small steamer waiting to go, Jamie recalled in spirit his fourth of Julys when he was a boy and as the time came vividly back I could see he was entirely preoccupied and happy in the reminiscence. How cool and grateful the sea breezes were when at length we were under weigh!

We found Mrs Thaxter and Mr. Whittier awaiting us on the wharf. She wore white muslin with small lilac flowers upon it—pansies and amethysts for ornaments. She is the picture of health & helpfulness—she always has some friend tucked under her arm and is always blooming and cheerful to see. The dear woman was as glad to see us, I really believe, as we were to see her. We had a merry dinner although dear Whittier has grown sadly deaf & Jamie for a wonder found it most difficult to make him understand all he said. After dinner we took a long delicious ramble and climb, the wind is blowing great guns, but we struck out bravely into a shelter among the rocks, and exquisite it was when we came to it. We were five. There is a Mrs. Guild here, a young woman of Welsh birth, Cadwalader a kind of sprite—with glorious hair reaching nearly to her feet and flowing heavily over her. I never saw such hair—it is a delightful to look at her. She is ill and an exile in search of health—a much attractive little spirit with a serpentine curve, a springing gait, a ready tongue and a loving heart. She draws us all to her.


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