"Passing where the shades that darken Grow transfigured to thy mind, Thou shalt go with soul untroubled To the mysteries behind; "Pass unmoved the silent portal Where beatitude begins, With an equal balance bearing Thy misfortunes and thy sins." Treading soft the leaf-spread carpet, Thus the Spirits talked with me; And I left my valley, musing On their gracious prophecy. To my fiery youth's ambition Such a boon were scarcely dear; "Thou shalt live to be a grandame, Work and die, devoid of fear." "Now, as utmost grace it steads me, Add but this thereto," I said: "On the matron's time-worn mantle Let the Poet's wreath be laid." J. W. H. "My first writing in the new house, where may God help and bless us all. May no dark action shade our record in this house, and if possible, no surpassing sorrow." After the wide sunny spaces of No. 13 Chestnut Street, the new house seemed small and dark; nor was Boylston Place even in those days a specially cheerful _cul de sac_; yet we remember it pleasantly enough as the home of much work and much play. "_November 19._ Had the comforts of faith from dear James Freeman [Clarke] to-day. Felt restored to something like the peace I enjoyed before these two tasks of printing and moving broke up all leisure and all study. Determined to hold on with both hands to the largeness of philosophical pursuit and study, and to do my utmost to be useful in this connection and path of life...." "Comforting myself with Hedge's book. Determined to pass no more godless days...." She began to read Grote's Plato, and the Journal contains much comment on the Platonic philosophy. Another interest which came to her this autumn was that of singing with the Handel and Haydn Society. She and Florence joined the altos, while "Harry," then in college (Harvard, 1869), sang bass. We find her also, in early December, rehearsing with a small chorus the Christmas music for the Church of the Disciples, and writing and rehearsing a charade for the Club. "_December 12._ Saw my new book at Tilton's. It looks very well, but I am not sanguine about its fate." "Later Lyrics" made less impression than either of the earlier volumes. It has been long out of print; our mother does not mention it in her "Reminiscences"; even in the Journal, the book once published, there are few allusions to it, and those in a sad note: "Discouraged about my book," and so forth; yet it contains much of her best work. "_December 16._ Sarah Clarke[57] and Foley[58] are to dine with me at 5.30. Went out at 10 A.M. to take Foley to see [William] Hunt, whom we found in his studio in a queer knitted coat. He showed an unfinished head of General Grant, in which it struck me that the eyes looked like the two scales of a balance in which men and events could be weighed." [57] Sister of James Freeman Clarke. An artist of some note and a beloved friend of our mother.