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Lathrop, Rose Hawthorne, 1851-1926

"Memories of Hawthorne"

Thus only
could the poetic insight and far-searching analytic power be safely
intrusted to him. To him only who can tenderly sympathize must be
given the highest and profoundest insight.
How wonderfully it is arranged, that in the very person who most
imperiously demands absolute beauty and perfection (for so does Mr.
Hawthorne), in this very person is found the subtlest and widest
appreciation of human shortcomings, and the pleadings of weakness and
failure. In "Blithedale" I think one feels this tender humanity. It
will come out more and more.
Shall I tell you where I am? I am sitting in our acacia grove, on the
hill, with a few pines near enough for me to hear their oceanic
murmur. It is only necessary for me to shut my eyes, to hear every
variety of water sounds. The pine gives me the long, majestic swell
and retreat of the sea waves; the birch, the silvery tinkle of a
pebbly brook; the acacia, the soft fall of a cascade; and all mingled
together, a sound of many waters most refreshing to the sense. I thank
heaven that we possess a hilltop. No amount of plains could compete
with the value of this. To look down on the world actually is typical
of looking down spiritually, and so it is good. Una and Julian are
wandering around; Una having been reading to Julian. Rosebud is
asleep. Oh, she enjoys a summer day so much! This morning I set her
down on the green grass. Without looking at me, the happiest smile
began to dawn over her face; and then she suddenly waved her hands
like wings, and set forth.


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