'Every day, I rose and attended to the many little calls which
are always on me, and which have been more of late. Then,
about eleven, I would sit down to write, at my window, close
to which is the apple-tree, lately full of blossoms, and now
of yellow birds. Opposite me was Del Sarto's Madonna; behind
me Silenus, holding in his arms the infant Pan. I felt very
content with my pen, my daily bouquet, and my yellow birds.
About five I would go out and walk till dark; then would
arrive my proofs, like crabbed old guardians, coming to tea
every night. So passed each day. The 23d of May, my birth-day,
about one o'clock, I wrote the last line of my little book;[A]
then I went to Mount Auburn, and walked gently among the
graves.'
As the brothers had now left college, and had entered or were entering
upon professional and commercial life, while the sister was married,
and the mother felt calls to visit in turn her scattered children, it
was determined to break up the "Home." 'As a family,' Margaret writes,
'we are henceforth to be parted. But though for months I had
been preparing for this separation, the last moments were very
sad. Such tears are childish tears, I know, and belie a deeper
wisdom. It is foolish in me to be so anxious about my family.
As I went along, it seemed as if all I did was for God's sake;
but if it had been, could I now thus fear? My relations to
them are altogether fair, so far as they go. As to their being
no more to me than others of my kind, there is surely a mystic
thrill betwixt children of one mother, which can never cease
to be felt till the soul is quite born anew. The earthly
family is the scaffold whereby we build the spiritual one. The
glimpses we here obtain of what such relations should be are
to me an earnest that the family is of Divine Order, and not a
mere school of preparation. And in the state of perfect being
which we call Heaven, I am assured that family ties will
attain to that glorified beauty of harmonious adaptation,
which stellar groups in the pure blue typify.'
Margaret's admirable fidelity, as daughter and sister,--amidst her
incessant literary pursuits, and her far-reaching friendships,--can be
justly appreciated by those only who were in her confidence; but from
the following slight sketches generous hearts can readily infer what
was the quality of her home-affections.
'Mother writes from Canton that my dear old grandmother is
dead. I regret that you never saw her. She was a picture of
primitive piety, as she sat holding the "Saint's Rest" in her
hand, with her bowed, trembling figure, and her emphatic nods,
and her sweet blue eyes. They were bright to the last, though
she was ninety. It is a great loss to mother, who felt a large
place warmed in her heart by the fond and grateful love of
this aged parent.'
'We cannot be sufficiently grateful for our mother,--so so
fair a blossom of the white amaranth; truly to us a mother
in this, that we can venerate her piety. Our relations to her
have known no jar. Nothing vulgar has sullied them; and in
this respect life has been truly domesticated. Indeed, when I
compare my lot with others, it seems to have had a more than
usual likeness to home; for relations have been as noble
as sincerity could make them, and there has been a frequent
breath of refined affection, with its sweet courtesies. Mother
thanks God in her prayers for "all the acts of mutual love
which have been permitted;" and looking back, I see that these
have really been many. I do not recognize this, as the days
pass, for to my desires life would be such a flower-chain of
symbols, that what is done seems very scanty, and the thread
shows too much.
'She has just brought me a little bouquet. Her flowers have
suffered greatly by my neglect, when I would be engrossed
by other things in her absences. But, not to be disgusted or
deterred, whenever she can glean one pretty enough, she brings
it to me. Here is the bouquet,--a very delicate rose, with its
half-blown bud, heliotrope, geranium, lady-pea, heart's-ease;
all sweet-scented flowers! Moved by their beauty, I wrote a
short note, to which this is the reply. Just like herself![B]
'"I should not love my flowers if they did not put forth all
the strength they have, in gratitude for your preserving care,
last winter, and your wasted feelings over the unavoidable
effects of the frost, that came so unexpectedly to nip their
budding beauties. I appreciate all you have done, knowing
at what cost any plant must be nourished by one who sows in
fields more precious than those opened, in early life, to my
culture. One must have grown up with flowers, and found joy
and sweetness in them, amidst disagreeable occupations, to
take delight in their whole existence as I do. They have long
had power to bring me into harmony with the Creator, and to
soothe almost any irritation. Therefore I understand your love
for these beautiful things, and it gives me real pleasure to
procure them for you.
'"You have done everything that the most affectionate and
loving daughter could, under all circumstances. My faith in
your generous desire to increase my happiness is founded on
the knowledge I have gained of your disposition, through your
whole life. I should ask your sympathy and aid, whenever it
could be available, knowing that you would give it first to
me. Waste no thought on neglected duties. I know of none.
Let us pursue our appointed paths, aiding each other in rough
places; and if I live to need the being led by the hand,
I always feel that you will perform this office wisely and
tenderly. We shall ever have perfect peace between us. Yours,
in all love."'