Diary of Annie Adams Fields

Sunday walked to Roxbury but our late party last night, it was nearly one when they left, forbade our getting away in season for church. I was sorry, for it was one of Dr Putnam’s fine discourses—beside an unbroken Sunday is worth everything else the week holds—all else melted...

Monday. Lovely spring-like weather. Lissie’s pictures come on well—as Mr Doll (the dealer) says, and he is a capital critic of pictures, the idea in them is good. She is doing a sketch of Miss Falvey for the Wheelock fund collection from photograph.

Tuesday. Spring-like again. Reading Seneca it is tranquillizing like the presence of a friend whose character you believe in.

Wednesday. Went to a meeting of the Mayhew Freedmen’s Society at Mrs C.G. Loring. There were one or two amusing anecdotes told by the teachers in their letters from the South of their colored pupils. One old man was asked “how can you get to Europe?” “By crossin’ de sea.” “That’s...

Saturday morning. The snow storm is at length over, the sky is brilliant this morning. The waning moon is in the west and the whole heavens at dawn were filled with exquisite rose tints.

Monday Feb 25. Curiously enough Mr Longfellow told J. that his first idea in writing the “Wayside Inn” was to do exactly what Whittier has done only to introduce Lowell and J. instead of B.T. but he found it would trammel him less to introduce persons who were not his personal friends.

Wednesday Feb. 27. Mr Longfellow’s birthday.

Thursday morning. Jamie had a most brilliant evening at Longfellows—a note came in from O.W.H. towards night saying, he was full of business & full of his story but he must go to L.’s. Lowell’s poem in the morning had helped to stir him. J. reached his door punctually at 8—there stood...

Friday for a wonder at home all day in spite of a lovely concert and french lesson—a little tired.

Saturday March 2. Walked out in the morning, the air Spring-like in the afternoon received Mrs Chapman one of the Weston sisters and mother of Mrs Auguste Laugel. Even in her declining years the eyes of this lady would out-shine those of ball-room belles. She has been beautiful as morning and...

Sunday. Walked to Roxbury to hear Dr Putnam. Inspiration seemed to sit upon his brow. The discourse was upon the love between brothers & sisters and of Jesus as our elder brother—anything more tender or more simple can hardly be imagined.

Monday. Snowy, rainy, chilly yet with a suspicion of spring somewhere. Read Hartley on Man—Virgil’s lovely description of Eneas on his visit to the city of Evandrus but feeling very little like writing, or any close occupation, finally went out—the walk was a refreshment—not what a walk...

Wednesday. Yesterday was one of many trials arising from my relations with others and chiefly my own family. In the morning Lissie was ill, indeed the night before she confessed that she had dyspepsia and she did not go out of her room until noon soon after 12. I went to her and found her...

Thursday. Sleet & snow shutting me up delightfully. Yesterday I was out several hours, visiting, dressmaker, concert.

Friday glorious day—visiting and french.

Saturday. Walking, as usual during this month so far and much of the last—wading India rubber boots indispensable. Took a box at the opera in the evening to hear Adelaide Phillips, Ferranti, Brignoli sing the Barber of Seville. It was quite perfect; one of the best operas we have had for a...

Sunday. Went to hear Mr Bartol—a good sermon but afterward there was scarcely a dry eye when Mr Bartol having left the church, a series of resolves were past [sic] in order to express our gratitude for his devotion during 30 years to the well-being of the society. Mr Loring’s address was...

Monday. Poor Lissie is getting better but nervous excitement over her work has made her ill more than anything else.

Wednesday March 13th Messrs Latham of Oxford & Fortamps of Bruxelles breakfasted with us the latter speaking English but imperfectly, the first a man of good intelligence and education and apparently of right good heart too. In the evening came Mr Beal with a lovely letter Tom. had written to...

Thursday. Making visits—at last the storm has cleared away and the brilliant cold of winter has returned. We had a day of harmless dissipation driving about seeing people and things. Lissie was better for it. Have been reading Obermann with a horrible sense of its reality. Now I must go out...

Saturday. The week has passed with little marked progress. I sometimes think that must be lost for us in this world since with all our doing so little is accomplished.

Sunday. Another huge snow-storm. Have been reading a pleasant eulogy upon Alexander Smith which recalls his honest, genial face with the shades of delicate feeling which passed over it, very clearly. The snow comes whirling down like silent bees, recalling a pretty feat of the Japanese Jugglers...

Tuesday March 19. Snowdrops were here one month ago to be sure! We saw them one warm Sunday in February, when we walked to Roxbury to church growing in the front yard of one of those old-fashioned wooden houses which are still happily overlooked by the speculators in building who make it their...

Wednesday. The Quincys’ came and we had a social happy hour or two. Their life is a healthy one. They live in a small cottage on the large estate in Q. and carry on the farm. They have three pretty and intelligent children whose physical education is much improved by their country life and she...

Wednesday. Bright day. Made several calls in the afternoon one upon old Mrs Loring (Ellis Gray) and I could not help reflecting how old age makes apparent the faults of character. The skill which youth possesses for hiding and glozing over fades utterly as the weakness of years takes possession...