Diary of Annie Adams Fields

Wednesday. Raining or cloudy—cool—refreshing great growing weather—the corn is up a foot. Since we came, the hills are glowing with rich green—sent our flowers to Boston & have made preparations to leave ourselves.

Thursday. Refreshing clouds still hanging about us, otherwise it would be very warm. Came to Plymouth yesterday—Willey driving us over Thornton bridge to Sanborn’s through that exquisite scenery. Willey talks so much more than he drives, always allowing the horses to walk whenever a remark...

Friday. Warm—shopping and visits. Went to see Humpty Dumpty in the evening, a play crowded full of variety of entertainment without purpose beyond entertainment in wh. it succeeds perfectly. The clown Fox was admirable.

Saturday. To the great Coliseum. All the world has written about this and a large proportion of all the world (so we fancy as we see the crowds) have enjoyed it. This afternoon was Mr. Gilmore’s benefit. We admired afresh the arduous labors of the man; we admired for the first time the...

Sunday. Heat again—as warm a day as I ever knew. Lizzie went to her studio and thence to Roxbury. Jamie and I remained at home all day.

Monday. Warm again. The great Irish day of the Jubilee. Jamie went to Manchester.

Tuesday. Lizzie left for Catskill. Mrs Stowe came to lunch. She has only lately left Florida and was coming to the conclusion she had brought the weather on with her. She says “it amuses me to hear people agitating the question as to who they shall get to perform the labor at the South. Why,...

Wednesday. Weather still warm although we had a cheering East wind yesterday. Called at Aunt Willard’s—dear cheerful old lady she is—the spirit of content inhabits her. Went to Nahant to dine & pass the Fourth with Louisa.

Thursday. Warm—quietly at L’s. Wondrous shower in the afternoon.

Friday morning—cooler at last. We return to town.

Saturday morning cool and lustrous. Yesterday took a long walk in the noontide heat—partly because I was lazy the day before, partly because I could not be easy to go away without taking a look at 14 Lincoln St. Arranged a pretty dinner. Charles Robertson, son of Frederick Robertson preacher,...

Monday July 8th We came to Manchester. Everything here is peaceful and beautiful as ever—only more so. It is indeed exquisite.

Tuesday 9. Summer in perfection.

Wednesday 10. Walked & wrote. Jamie is at work on his lecture.

Thursday 11. After a soaking rain and thunder last night and a delicious morning—we are having a hot day.

Friday. The weather is still warm, very very warm. The good Towne’s begin their friendly ministrations.

Saturday. Cool, glorious—“When clouds are highest up in the air.” Dr. Bartol rowed us over to his home to tea. It was delightful clambering up the rocky steep to the house in the sunset. They were all truly kind.

Sunday. Cool, cloudy morning—warm at noon—we were up and away early—a perfect day.

Monday 15. Thick fog—bell tolling. Jamie went to town. It became excessively warm—the air was filled with the scent of hay, the songs of birds, and silence.

Tuesday. Fog again. Last night Jamie brought an address by Emerson at Amherst to be in the newspapers.

Wednesday. 17. Read Lowell’s grand article on the Shadow of Dante. Another lovely day of shifting cloud and sunshine. Lucy Larcom & her little nephew came over to pass the afternoon.

Thursday 18. Cold and mist—perhaps a storm. The days slip away so fast that I have to write them down to know where we are.

Friday. Clear and very warm. Drove with Mrs Towne to Essex where we found an old house over a hundred years old and saw the ancient spinning wheel.

Saturday July 20. A sweet cool morning. Yesterday I had no time for real study. My German book has lain open neglected for a day or two—but Lowell’s article on the Shadow of Dante absorbed me for a time. Twice already I have read Dante through and each of those periods are like eras in my...

Sunday a warm delicious day which we passed quietly together out of doors.