Now began a series of birthday celebrations, which were blessings not
unmixed in his cup of life. He was in the habit of writing a brief
note of remembrance on these anniversaries; in one of which, after
confessing to "a feeling of sadness and loneliness," he turns to the
Emerson Calendar, and says, "I found for the day some lines from his
'World Soul:'--
"'Love wakes anew this throbbing heart,
And we are never old;
Over the winter glaciers
I see the summer glow,
And through the wild piled snow-drift
The warm rose-buds blow.'
Reading them, I took heart."
On another occasion he says: "In the intervals of visitation on that
day my thoughts were with dear friends who have passed from us; among
whom, I need not say, was thy dearest friend. How vividly the
beautiful mornings with you were recalled! Then I wondered at my age,
and if it was possible that I was the little boy on the old Haverhill
farm, unknown, and knowing nobody beyond my home horizon. I could not
quite make the connection of the white-haired man with the black-
locked boy. I could not help a feeling of loneliness, thinking of
having outlived many of my life-companions; but I was still grateful
to God that I had not outlived my love for them and for those still
living. Among the many tokens of good will from all parts of the
country and beyond the sea, there were some curious and amazing
missives. One Southern woman took the occasion to include me in her
curse of the 'mean, hateful Yankees.
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