Chapter I: CANNOT remember when my father began his anti-slavery work, because at (4)

MY DEAR DAVID,—I will do my best to copy a verse of the “Battle
Hymn” to-day, but, oh! I write, every day, until I fairly ache,
and it is mostly, or in great part, for other people’s pleasure
or benefit. I shall write to dear Flossy as soon as I can. Tell
her for me that I heard pleasant things about our dear Carrie
from Mrs. Sally Whitman, recently returned from a brief stay in
Paris.

Always your affect.

JULIA W. HOWE.

P. S.—You see, I have done it.

The baby mentioned in the following letter was our mother’s first great-grandchild, little Julia Ward Howe Hall.

241 BEACON ST.,
_June 16th, 1903_.

DEAR DAVID,— ... I saw your dear Harry last evening. He seemed
well—I thought him rather sober, as well he may be, with a
family to provide for. The Baby, not the less, is a very welcome
little creature, and it was a pleasant surprise when, on my
birthday, the little Mother laid the little daughter on my lap.
I returned on Sunday from a long visit in Gardiner. Always

Your very affectionate

JULIA WARD HOWE.

In the following letter, we see my mother making her annual pilgrimage to the State House to attend the suffrage hearing. Neither the bitter winter weather nor the infirmities of age could restrain her dauntless spirit.

_March 7th, 1905._

MY DEAR DAVID,— ... Tell Flossy that I have passed the morning
at a State House hearing in behalf of a bill to have the school
committee here appointed by the Mayor, instead of being elected
by the people. I spoke against the bill, and hope you would have
done so in my place.

My husband was greatly delighted with my mother’s _Reminiscences_ and wrote her as follows:

31 PINE STREET, NEW YORK,
_February 15th, 1901_.

DEAR MRS. HOWE,—Though I was a long time getting to it, when
once I started in to read your _Reminiscences_ I was obliged to
finish them at as nearly _one sitting_ as the exigencies of the
“wrastle for hash” would permit.

I have not been so fascinated with any book since the old days
when as a boy I used to sit up half the night to finish one of
the Waverly Novels.

I had but two regrets when late last evening I read the
beautiful lines with which the book concludes:—the first that
there was not another volume, and the second that, charming as
it all is, it is after all such an inadequate presentation of
the life which is of such inexpressible value to us all. May I
add that I hope you will take better care of it than you have
recently been taking?

With best love

Ever very affectionately