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Lathrop, Rose Hawthorne, 1851-1926

"Memories of Hawthorne"

It was beautiful to
see the serene gleam of Una's face, fleckered with sunlight; and
Julian, with his coronet of curls, sitting quiet in the great peace.
My husband, at full length on the carpet of withered pine, presented
no hindrance to the tides of divine life that are ready to flow
through us, if we will. There are no Words to describe such enjoyment;
but you can understand it well. It is the highest wisdom, I think, to
sometimes do nothing; but only keep still, and reverently be happy,
and receptive of the great omnipresence. How studiously we mortals
keep it out of our eternal business. There should be no business at
least once a week. I rather think it is the best proof that Moses was
inspired that he instituted a Sabbath of rest from labor. God needs
not, but man needs, rest.
Sunset. I left you to go out again and join my husband on the hilltop,
while the children's voices kept us advised of their welfare somewhere
about the place. My husband and I sat on a terrace on the side of the
hill, both looking off upon the tranquil horizon, beginning to be
veiled with a dim blue haze. Una ran up, calling out that Mr. Hosmer
wished to see papa and mamma. So we descended, and met the old
gentleman on a lower terrace, where I invited him to sit on the green
sofa; and we grouped about him. Julian at first went rushing through
our ranks like a young Olympian exercising heroic games, and finally
extended himself on the grass to listen to the palaver.


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