THE LAST YEARS 371 



Nahant, August 24, 1898 

 Yes, it is a very intangible, inexpKcable ripening of 

 life that makes itself felt as we near the end, and which 

 is very consoling and reassuring. It is difficult to say 

 (even to one's self) exactly what it means, but one 

 rests in it with a certain quiet acceptance that brings 

 strength. 



December IJf., 1898, — "Queens" [a small club of 

 old friends] at Clem Crafts'. It was very pleasant; 

 our relation to each other is so simple and affectionate 

 and the talk is very refreshing. The women are so 

 bright and interested in all sorts of good things. 



February 9, 1899. — Went to the concert in the 

 evening. Aus der Ohe played and then we had the en- 

 chanting Brahms waltzes. The best waltz is like life, — 

 a touch of pathos surging to the surface, mingled 

 constantly with the gaiety and the movement. 



February 26, Sunday. — Tomorrow will be just a 

 year since Sallie passed out of sight. The real anni- 

 versary was the twenty-seventh, but Sunday seemed 

 more like it, because she died on Sunday. I had 

 just risen this morning and let in the daylight, when 

 just outside my chamber door rose the sweetest, 

 softest music — voices singing the trio, "Lift up thine 

 eyes unto the mountains." Sallie and Mary and I 

 used to sing it so much together, especially at the 

 Channing Hospital. At first the surprise was so 

 absolute, the music so low and far away it seemed to 

 me to come from heaven — as if I were half there. 

 It was overwhelming — but it is well to have the 



