[Boston—Monday, 12 October 1874]

Monday. The weather is truly gorgeous. Mrs Diaz and her griefs weigh—I mean her griefs weigh upon our hearts. What a strange sad fate—a woman with two sons to find one of them bad and one good and yet both open to the same influences.

Whittier passed Friday evening with us. He had intended to come to breakfast but was not well enough. Jamie was not at home (lecturing) but Mrs Diaz and I enjoyed his dear friendly talk to the full. He is out of heart with regard to Beecher. A black pall settles over our minds. Ah! Must it be. “There’s one thing” said Whittier “if he is not proved guilty he must be proved a dreadful silly fellow. He can never stand where he was before.” W. is much cast down about a wretched low fellow a nephew of his, who finally married a really good & lovely woman. She is now in distress and looks to him for advice which he dared not give. “What can she do to support herself if she leaves him,” he asked me.


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