Diary of Annie Adams Fields

April Thursday May 3d Jamie went to a revival meeting for a few moments in Park St. Church. He had observed the preacher several days as he came out following his crowd of listeners; the women pressing his hands, putting on his fur tippet and caressing him as women know so well how to do to...

Tuesday morning. May 8th 1866. Spring is finally here in full loveliness—the twilights are late, the sun early, the robins in perfect whistle, the dandelions in full disc, life at high tide, and man a vagrant.

Wednesday. Really weak with over-fatigue & heavy sleep. A young English gentleman by the name of Middlemore not quite seventeen went to Mr Longfellow’s with Prof. Holmes and Jamie, he passed the night here and breakfasted and we liked him. His straight forward answers, his intelligence,...

Thursday. May 10. Mary Dodge came in the morning. The day is exquisite, redolent of Spring. Uncle Willard’s lovely tree is in bloom and he has showered its blossoms upon us. Two new poems by Lowell which we have read together with interest “The Miner” and “To J.B. on receiving a VII lb....

June 6th In Campton. A whole busy month has whirled away unrecorded, too much occupied with visitors, housekeeping, to allow an hours writing and hardly of reading. Today raining we have come from Concord having left mother and Sarah comfortable at Brattleboro, to find dear old Willey’s only...

June 7th Still raining like a day in April, the clouds dropping fatness. Began our before breakfast walks.

Saturday June 9. Cold and northeasterly; we have had but one thoroughly beautiful day since we left home on the first. However we are thankful for this weather which the farmers call “real growin’ weather.”

Sunday June 10. Went to the village church together. The sermon was not unsuited to the heavens and the service was earnest and interesting, all except a place for women, which seemed “far fetched” to say the least, here, where women reign.

June 11th the finest day since last June! Past [sic] the morning partly over Gerald Massey’s book on Shakspeare’s Sonnets, partly by the river side where the hours flew away before we guessed what they were doing. The wild hydrangea and Solomon’s seal and lily are abloom among the earliest...

Tuesday 12. Went up to Kimbell Whitney’s, the farm on the hillside with a grassy lane but no road leading up. Found him hoeing his corn thoughtfully on the hillside, he thought there would be frost tonight, the north-west wind was blowing lustily over the young shoots as we talked & it was...

Wednesday. Morning perfect, non cloudy, afternoon rain, soft and mild.

Thursday. Cold, wet, raining at intervals. Letters last night from Longfellow urging J. to come to the last reading of the “Paradiso.” Greene had already arrived. He will renew the Wednesday evenings in September over the “difficult passages.” Letters from our artist-sister in Paris. One...

Friday morning June 15. Yesterday rain rain, this morning a thick fog, but warm, with signs of clearing.

Saturday 16th A resplendent day! As Americans have happily learned to say, “one of Lowell’s perfect days” because of his line in Sir Launfal.

Sunday June 17. Warm and soft with a veil of mist over the sky deepening as the day ripened and giving us rain by night.

Monday. Jamie went to town. Rain pouring. Lucy reading Shakspeare’s sonnets in her room, I hear.

Tuesday June 19. A brilliant sun at half past 5 chased back by heavy clouds from the west—alone. Sat by the window reading etc. until breakfast and after went out with Lucy Larcom to Mad River and sat in the sun on the rocks watching the river as it leaped down its rocky bed vigorous with...

Wednesday. A perfect day again. Lucy, Jamie & I went to Waterville. We cannot forget the damp coolness of the woods as we went, the bare face of Welch mountain, or Green Top opposite. Mt. Osceola was in shadow and looked as if enfolded in green moss. Before dinner we sat by the river and watched...

Thursday morning. The day being warm we were glad to rest after yesterday’s feast of light and air, of perfect out-of-door luxury. At ½ past three in the afternoon we bade farewell to Campton—not however without an hour or two by the river bank which was never more fresh and June-like. Lucy...

Boston July 10th 1866. It seems to be a necessity common to mortals, that of the division of time. With the vision of incompleteness surrounding us, it is a relief as the months pass to fancy unfinished labors also put behind us and opportunity or excuse offered by a new month for fresh labors...

Thursday July 12th Mrs Hawthorne & Julian, Mr & Mrs Stowe were here—all, except Julian to dine. Mrs Hawthorne brought me lilies, tall white lilies.

Friday. Jamie passed at Nahant with Longfellow. He cannot persuade him to print the Dante this year.

Saturday. Cooler weather.

Sunday. Osgood came to dine and I wrote a little in this book.

Monday July 16th Came to Manchester. The day was excessively warm, the thermometers ranging from 90° to 100° in the shade. I packed by slow degrees and then enjoyed a rest with the western breeze blowing in while I looked over Mr Laugel’s pleasant book. There was little life in the air...