Identifier: memoriesofhostes02howe (find matches)
Title: Memories of a hostess : a chronicle of eminent friendships, drawn chiefly from the diaries of Mrs. James T. Fields
Year: 1922 (1920s)
Authors: Howe, M. A. De Wolfe (Mark Antony De Wolfe), 1864-1960 Roy J. Friedman Mark Twain Collection (Library of Congress) DLC Fields, Annie, 1834-1915
Subjects: Fields, Annie, 1834-1915 Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870 Women -- Massachusetts Boston Diaries Friendship -- Massachusetts Boston Authors, American -- 19th century Biography Actors -- United States Biography Boston (Mass.) -- Intellectual life
Publisher: Boston : Atlantic Monthly Press
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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nted in the Atlan-tic. Four years later, Consule Howells^ The ShoreHouse, a second story, appeared over her own name,the practiceof printing signatures having meanwhile beeninstituted. In May, 1875, the Atlantic contained apoem by Miss Jewett, which may be quoted, not somuch to remind the readers of those stories of New Eng-land on which her later fame was based, that in herearlier years she was much given to the writing of verse,as to explain in a way the union — there is no truerword for it — that came later to exist between herselfand Mrs. Fields.Thus it read : — TOGETHER I wonder if you really send Those dreams of you that come and go! I like to say, She thought of me,And I have known it. Is it so ? Though other friends walk by your side. Yet sometimes it must surely be,They wonder where your thoughts have gone, Because I have you here with me. And when the busy day is done And work is ended, voices cease,When every one has said good night, In fading firelight, then in peace
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SARAH ORNE JEWETT SARAH ORNE JEWETT 283 I idly rest: you come to me, — Your dear love holds me close to jou. If I could see you face to face It would not be more sweet and true; I do not hear the words you speak, Nor touch your hands, nor see your eyes: Yet, far away the flowers may growFrom whence to me the fragrance flies; And so, across the empty miles Light from my star shines. Is it, dear, Your love has never gone away ?I said farewell and — kept you here. It was not strange that the writer of just such a poemshould have seemed to Fields, before his death in 1881,the ideal friend to fill the impending gap in the life of hiswife. He must have known that, when the time shouldcome for readjusting herself to life without him, shewould need something more than random contacts withfriends, no matter how rewarding each such relation-ship might be. He must have realized that the intenselypersonal element in her nature would require an outletthrough an intensely personal devotion. If

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