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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trousersmore bulgy than those of any real sailor he had everobserved, and the manner of hitching up the trouserswas entirely peculiar to themselves and to the stage. We went to call upon the Burlingames. In describingHarrisburg, Virginia, where he had lectured, he said acommittee-man came to invite him to take a walk, andhe was so afflicted with a headache that he was readyto take or give away his life at any moment; so he ac-cepted the invitation and walked out with him. Theman observed that Harrisburg was a very healthy place ;only one man a day died in that vicinity. Oh! saidHarte, remembering the dangerous state of his ownmind, has that man died yet today ? The man shookhis head gravely, never suspecting a joke, and said hedidnt know, but he would try to find out. WhereatHarte, to keep up the joke, said he wished he would. Hewent to the lecture forgetting all about it and saw thisman hanging around without getting a chance to speak.The next morning very early, he managed to get an
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^ ^ STAGE FOLK AND OTHERS 243 opportunity to speak to him. I couldnt find outexactly about that man yesterday, he said. Whatman? said H. Why, the one we were speaking of;the Coroner said he could nt say precisely who it was,but the one man would average all right. Harte said in speaking of Longfellow that no one hadyet overpraised him. The delicate quality of humor, theexquisite fineness in the choice of words, the breadthand sweetness of his nature were something he couldhardly help worshipping. One day after a dinner at Mr.Lowells he said, I think I will not have a carnage toreturn to town. I will walk down to the Square. I willwalk with you, said Longfellow. When they arrived athis gate, he said, he was so beautiful that he could onlythink of the light and whiteness of the moon, and if hehad stayed a moment longer he should have put his armsaround him and made a fool of himself then and there.Whereat he said good night abruptly and turned away. He brought his novel and play ^ with

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