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Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz was next introduced to the party. She said that she was an old Abolitionist of the truest blood, and that, said she, is why I am here with you.  "The slavery cause was a good one. I am a Plymouth girl, descendant of the Pilgrims and born on the rock. I am therefore glad to greet those from the Old Granite State and High Rock. If I went out lecturing, I should talk on the economy of debate. In the anti-slavery movement, the question was asked: 'Would you have your daughter marry a negro?'  That was not the question in that grand movement, which is what I mean by the economy of debate. The old anti-slavery girls were always ready to attend a meeting of Abolitionists,

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and they were always first there and the last to depart. Why, they would put their gold watches in the contribution box and think nothing about it, not regretting their act."  Mrs. Diaz continued at length, in a very interesting vein.

Then the family sang "The Old Granite State" again. The good old song could not be sung too often that night.

The next speaker to be introduced was J. Warren Newhall, who had come, notwithstanding his bodily infirmities and the severe storm, to read a poem he had prepared. He prefaced it with the following remarks:

Ladies and Gentlemen:  -  I deem it a privilege to be numbered among those who have assembled to celebrate the seventieth anniversary of the birth of one of the renowned Hutchinson Family. The 'Hutchinson Family' - what a wealth of pleasant memories that name recalls!  How the hearts of many of these friends present thrill as retrospection brings to our mental vision the concerts given by that quartet of sweet-voiced brothers and their fair sister Abby in days gone by. What power they had to move us to mirth by their humor, touch us by their pathos, nerve us to effort by their inspiring earnestness and elevate us by their high moral and religious spirit!  Theirs has been a grand and glorious mission and nobly have they fulfilled it. They have sung for freedom, they have sung for humanity, they have sung for temperance, they have sung for reform, they have sung for equality, they have sung for loyalty and union, they have sung for all that is pure and noble and true. All through the land and on foreign shores they have been recognized as the minstrels of Freedom and Right. But to-night all that are

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left of that wonderfully-gifted family are these two. All the rest have passed on before, and we feel they are joining in the songs of the celestial city. When I received the invitation, I sent in response a few lines of congratulation, not thinking I should be able to be one of the company, but our genial host insisted that I should be present and read my contribution, which I will do, feeling, however, that when compared with what you have listened to from the veteran Theodore Weld, and the true friend of progress, Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz, and what is to follow, my simple offering will be but a pebble on the seashore.

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Mr. Mann here read the poetic contribution of Joseph Warren Nye, printed elsewhere in this volume, and a little later read the poem of Mrs. Bowles, and also bits of the letters which were received in such great abundance. After the letter of Rev. S. F. Smith was read, his great hymn "America" was sung by the entire company.

A violin solo was rendered at this point by Miss Bertha Lloyd, of Lynn, and a piano solo was performed by Miss Helen M. Cramm, of Haverhill. A fine poem followed, read by its author, David N. Johnson, author of "Sketches of Lynn."

"Mr. Mann here read the poetic contribution of Joseph Warren Nye":   "Mrs. Bowles" refers to the Rev. Ada C. Bowles.

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Next to speak was Cyrus M. Tracy, his remarks being as follows:

Ladies and Gentlemen:  -  When, within the last hour, it was mentioned to me that I might be asked to say something at this time, I could see no reason at all for such a request. Nor, indeed, for that matter, any reason, aside from common friendship, why I should be here at all. Neither is this doubt made any less, as I have looked on the faces, and heard the names, of the eminent company, present and absent, who are concerned, nearly or remotely, in the reunion of this evening  -  a company, I venture to say, such as could be nowhere assembled, save in the parlors of a Hutchinson.

But the reason for my presence has gradually taken shape, as I have listened to what has been said here in your hearing. For I, too, though not an old man, am yet an old Abolitionist. I was alive and attentive in that day. I knew enough of the early struggles of that divine enterprise. I well remember the day when came to me in the public journals, the account of that disgraceful mob "of men of property and standing" in

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Boston, who could, forsooth, with no supposed loss of honor, violate the privacy of a women's prayer meeting in a retired chamber, break up its exercises, and scatter its members like frightened sheep. I read it, ten-year-old boy that I was, and I said to myself: "There is a vile outrage, no matter who says no!"  For such it was; a hideous breach of individual liberty, of the freedom that no man should dare infringe, except so far as may be actually needed for the protection of society.

This does not, indeed, touch personally the Hutchinson family, yet I knew them  -  some of them, long before they knew me, and before they knew much, practically, of abolition. I recall a certain time when I saw the words "Family Concert" on a hand-bill about town, and read that the Hutchinson Family would sing at the old "Sagamore Hall."  It was the same old hall that stood near the depot  -  poor old building, it burned down three times, and the last time finished it  -  but it was a popular place then, and I went there to hear the Hutchinsons' concert. Before that I only knew Jesse, and then only as a business man. He had some valuable inventions in stoves that he manufactured  -  air-tight stoves, they were called  -  you put your wooden logs into the fire, and shut them up tight, and they keep you warm a long time. But now the musical side of the family was to come out, so I went to hear what that was. Where I got the dimes to go with I don't remember, but that was settled long ago. I cannot say how many performers there were, but there were Jesse, Judson, John, Asa and Joshua, and enough more to fill the platform as full as the house, and that was so full that the only place I could get was close beside a great, red-hot salamander stove. There I stayed and sweltered all the evening, well

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pleased to hear them ring out the sterling old glees, madrigals and songs that were then in use; and when I came away, it was with full conviction that there was as much in the heart of a Hutchinson to warm a man on the inside, as there was in his stove to warm the outside. This was just before they went into systematic singing for anti-slavery, and of their subsequent work you do not need me to tell you anything. But pardon me, my friends, if at this point there comes over me the recollection of another zealous worker for the cause of abolition  -  my own brother, next older than myself. He, too, gave his efforts to the grand enterprise from the earliest; indeed, perhaps I learned its first lessons from his lips. He toiled and wrought bravely while he could, but when his health failed and he could do no more, he went to Europe to recruit. Coming home, he said to me, "There are more workers in the field of anti-slavery than every one is aware. The Hutchinson Family are over there."   "Yes," I said, "I know they are. Are they doing much?"   "Not a doubt of it," he said.  "They sing in those great halls in England, night after night, and the poor, half-fed, begrimed workmen and toilers from the mills and factories crowd the audience, and stand, dirty and ragged, charmed with their melodies till the tears stream down through the grime of their faces, and their sobs are only overcome by their applause. Certainly, the spirit of their songs is going down into the very hearts of the English people."  Poor fellow, he did not live to see the victory of his great national faith; he died before the last conflict, but in his will it was found written: "I direct that my funeral rites shall only be attended by some minister that has never apologized for slavery."  Such a one was found, and so it was done accordingly.

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I feel that you will indeed excuse the gush of these memories, largely personal though they are. I feel also that you will see their close relation with the joyful cheer of this occasion. For the memories of that wonderful campaign against oppression arise most vividly to those who passed through it; and such, most eminently, is our friend and host of this evening. To him, in a peculiar sense, it belongs to say with Æneas, in his story of the Siege of Troy:

["All of those sorrowful things I saw, and a great part of them I was."]

Hence, I recognize, as you all do, the fitness of every congratulation that we pay to this, our worthy entertainer. Well deserving is he  -  in the ripeness of his years, a faithful co-worker in the grand enterprise of American freedom  -  well deserving of all the happiness that is left him or can be brought him by those who share the good he helped to work out; and standing no nearer than I do, I yet bespeak for him every pleasant fortune, and all comfort from sources human or divine.

E. K. Emerson, chairman of the Prohibitory City Committee, of Lynn, was introduced as representing one of the reforms which the family advocated, and one for which he announced himself ready to stand, through thick and thin. Walter B. Allen, a representative of the Friends' Society, so numerous in Lynn, also added words of congratulation.

Hon. W. A. Clark, Jr., said:  -  "It is certainly a very great pleasure to be present on an occasion like this, and pay my respects to one whose name and fame extends over the entire land. It is also a matter of

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gratification to me to have with me my son, so that when he grows up and fills the responsibilities of life, he may look back and find encouragement and strength from having known men whose lives were devoted unselfishly to a great cause. It was his fortune, too, to be with me on an occasion similar to this, to join with others observing the birthday of the poet Whittier, at Oak Knoll, who also was a co-worker with these distinguished men and women in the anti-slavery cause." [At this point, Mrs. Campbell, with that consummate eye to effect which always distinguished every member of the Hutchinson Family, gently pushed Mr. Clark's son Alfred to a position beside his father, while Brother John came up and laid his hand gently and affectionately on the lad's shoulder.]  Mr. Clark referred felicitously to the pleasure of meeting one so perennially young as their honored host, and to the gratification it must give his family as well as all present.

The next speaker was Captain George T. Newhall, editor of the Lynn Transcript, who was introduced to speak for the press. His remarks follow:

Mr. Master of Ceremonies:  -  We are assembled to hail our venerable fellow-citizen upon this event, the seventieth anniversary of his birthday. He and the family, of which I understand he is one of the two survivors, is of a long-time artistic, unique and honorable fame  -  a fame with which the civilization of both continents is familiar. But, pleased as we are with that fame which links the name of Lynn with the Hutchinson family, and rejoicing with them, and especially with our host, that the cause to which in their chosen way they were untiringly devoted and faithful  -  that of anti-slavery  -  no more demands their aid, the peculiar

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satisfaction of this occasion is that we are assembled under his hospitable roof, which shelters us from this winter storm, to congratulate our fellow-citizen and each other upon "the day we celebrate," and to testify our unanimous good-will towards one whose ideal of humanity we warmly acknowledge and appreciate.

Later in the evening a ringing speech was made by Lucius B. Hutchinson, of New York, who took occasion to remark that he was nearer his birthday than his uncle, for while the latter reached his seventieth birthday the day before, Sunday, he, the speaker, would be fifty-two at midnight, which was fast approaching.

All notable events must have their end. The hour set for the close of the reception was past, when the band of noble singers gathered for a last song at the organ. It was "Old High Rock."

Then, hand-in-hand, the singers passed through the company, singing their parting song. There were other features, music by the orchestra and parting congratulations, but nothing could be more fitting, as a close to the story of that beautiful occasion, than this tender, pathetic, but hope-inspiring song, tearfully sung by that magnetic and patriotic family:

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For the next few days after the birthday gathering my mail was full of papers containing accounts of the affair and friendly notices, which indicated that they did not coincide with the views of the unreconstructed publication which a couple of decades before had said most of the family were dead, and I ought to die too.

A few days after the affair, I began to dictate new matter for my book, but soon discovered to my dismay that quite a large amount of the matter already prepared was missing. It has never been found, and the consequence of the loss was that I was compelled to reproduce hundreds of pages. A considerable portion of the year was spent in this pleasurable work. In January I sung two days at the woman-suffrage convention in Tremont Temple with Viola. On February 13th I sung for the Nationalists at Weymouth, E. S. Huntington accompanying me and speaking. In April I went several times to Boston to hear Annie Besant discourse upon Theosophy. I did not become very enthusiastic over the doctrine. In May, my good friend Joseph Warren Nye, the Lynn poet, with his wife, celebrated their golden wedding. I attended and sung an original song. Abby spent quite a portion of July in Lynn, and it is needless to say those were happy days for me. As the summer wore on, I visited Portland, Sebago Lake, Fabyan's, and finally spent a week at Bar Harbor, fully enjoying the sights at that great summer resort, enhanced as they were by the presence in the harbor of a squadron of the navy. In August occurred at Hartford the golden wedding of John and Isabella (Beecher) Hooker. It was one of the pleasantest events of that nature I ever attended.

In October I had a short visit from my old advance agent, E. E. Johnson, of Painesville, Ohio, in which we

"A few days after the affair, I began to dictate":   This is a passage well worth noting. Through much of the 1880s, John had worked closely with his sister, Abby Hutchinson Patton, on what became Story of the Hutchinsons. The hundeds of pages of lost manuscript, which John referred to here, most likely included much in the way of Sister Abby's contributions to the book. Those contributions, of course, were lost with the pages of manuscript. Not much after this, Abby, whose well-being was never the best, started into a period of declining health from which she would never recover; and it seems doubtful that she was available to recreate a lot of her contributions to the lost pages. This is one of many, many examples of Abby's writings being lost or stolen.

"Good-bye brothers, good-bye sisters":   This spiritual is often called "Goodbye Brother" and is of African-American origin.

1891 odds and ends:   Most readers probably already know that these are the last years of the life of Abby Hutchinson Patton. The main text, in varying ways, has already looked ahead to her death. It is doubtful that Abby ever thought she would live very long, but by 1891 she was speaking often in fatalistic terms. Yet she wasn't inclined to just fade away. After being the life of the party at the 70th birthday celebration of her brother, John W. Hutchinson, Sister Abby published two significant works. One was an original musical setting of Alfred Tennyson's "Ring Out, Wild Bells."  It was published in two versions: one for four voices and piano; the other for "voice and piano; parts for viola, cornet, flute, clarinet, drums & bells, trombone, 1st violin and 2nd violin."   Caroline Dana Howe of Maine's Portland Transcript said, "It was paid the high compliment of being played upon the chime bells of Trinity church in New York city last Christmas [Christmas of 1891] to a hushed audience of admiring thousands crowding the streets in every direction."  The other was her self-published book of verses and sayings, A Handful of Pebbles, which, for the most part, she and Ludlow distributed personally. In a letter to John, she said, "I have had numerous requests to sell my book or to place it where it could be bought; so far have preferred to give it away."  She spoke of these two works as "my last will and testament to my relatives."   | |   There is a certain irony to be found in another passage in one of Abby's letters to John.  "Would you not like to live fifty years more to see what grand work will be done in the world?"  Fifty years from the date of her letter fell just a month before the bombing of Pearl Harbor and American entry into World War II.   | |   For decades, references to illness as well as to an evidently chronic lack of strength and stamina were a fairly common feature in Abby's letters. By the fall of 1891, her correspondence also included allusions to being in pain.   | |   In the early 1890s, zealous efforts began anew in the field of civil rights for black Americans. Importantly this involved advocacy of anti-lynching laws. We have just enough details to know that, by the decade of the 1890s and quite likely earlier, civil rights became one of John W. Hutchinson's causes.

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had a good time talking over old times. The convention of the World's Woman's Christian Temperance Union occurred in Tremont Temple, Boston, soon after. Lady Henry Somerset came over from England, and all the notable workers in this country were present. I attended each day's sessions. I sung "Clear the way" to them. They cheered me. The woman suffragists had a big fair in Boston in December, and I attended that.

[1892]

In January, 1892, James Warren Newhall, one of the poets who were with me on my birthday anniversary the year before, died, and on the 25th I attended his funeral. Mr. Newhall possessed one of the sweetest souls with which I have ever held communion, in a poor, crippled body which had been a burden to him for a lifetime. It was not possible to break his spirit, however, and he went through life singing and happy. A few days before his death I called at his home. He was suffering with typhoid fever. A brother lay dead from the same disease, and in the same house a sister, soon to be left alone in the world, was suffering from it also. I sung "What shall be my angel name?" to him. When I closed, he said, in a voice trembling with weakness, "Won't you go and sing that to Lyddy?"  But a few months before, Cyrus Mason Tracy, who spoke so felicitously at my anniversary, had "crossed the great divide," and with a sad heart I now bade farewell to another of these choice spirits, happily not knowing how soon I must part with one far dearer than them all.

On Sunday, the 31st of January, Rev. A. A. Miner, D.D., spoke on the public school question at Odd Fellows' Hall in Lynn. I sung "The Prophet."  In the course of his remarks, Dr. Miner spoke of the difficulty he experienced in keeping the hair on his partially bald head, at the same time looking whimsically at me. In

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turn I warned him against the sin of covetousness, said fair exchange was no robbery, and expressed my entire willingness to swap a part of my hair for some of the doctor's brains. This brought down the house. On February 6th Hon. Charles Carleton Coffin, the famous war correspondent, called on me, and I gave him the story of our experience in the camps for his "Life of Lincoln," in preparation.

On March 7th my old anti-slavery friend, John Mills, died at his home in Milford. I attended his funeral a few days later. Parker Pillsbury, with whom Mills was a co-laborer in the days of the New Hampshire Anti-slavery Society  -  those days when Milford was alive to the great wrong of slavery as few Granite State towns were  -  spoke at the service, as did J. W. Pillsbury, Hon. Charles H. Burns, his son-in-law, and others. I sung and spoke.

During this year I built Belleview Cottage, between the Stone and Daisy cottages. In June I went to Minnesota. The Republican National Convention was to occur at Minneapolis, and I thought it a good opportunity to see how such gatherings were conducted, especially as I had a good deal of business to see to in Hutchinson. On June 2d I went to Worcester, where the Prohibitory State Convention was in session, as a delegate. I sung them "Ridden by the Rum Power," and was vociferously cheered. At one o'clock in the afternoon I left them and took the train for New York. I spent the night with Sister Abby, and was at breakfast with her the next morning, when Ludlow read from his paper that the New York delegation to the Minneapolis convention would leave the Grand Central Depot at 10.30.   "I'm going with them," I remarked.  "I'll go and see you off," said Abby. So we went to the

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train together. I had no difficulty in finding friends among the delegates, and Abby introduced me to several whom I had not previously known, a bright New Yorker named Bryant being with them. There was no difficulty in securing a passage with them, and we had a grand time on the journey. My good friends, to whom Abby explained that I was a "Republican Prohibitionist," spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince me that I ought to vote the ticket of the "Grand Old Party."  The New York Commercial Advertiser in noting the departure of the delegates' train, said: "The quaintest character of them all was John W. Hutchinson. His long gray hair and kindly face made him a conspicuous character. He is a great Harrison man, is seventy years of age, and is known as the 'convention singer.'"  The delegates were largely for Blaine. I presume the reporter may have referred to Old Tippecanoe when he said I was a "Harrison man."  It was a two days' trip to Minneapolis, even by special train. During the convention I slept each night in my berth in the sleeper. It was an exciting time indeed, Blaine men and Harrison men hurrahing all day. I was kept supplied with tickets by New York, Minnesota and Massachusetts delegates.   O. D. Hutchinson, Asa's son, was at the convention, and I spent much of the time with him. At last Harrison was renominated, and after witnessing this ceremony I took the train for Hutchinson. Had a good time with my nephews and grand-nephews, though the thermometer stood at 98° some of the time. After a few days spent here, I started on my return, taking a look at the buildings of the coming World's Fair in Chicago, as I passed through the city. I arrived home June 26th. Within a week I had replaced the flagstaff on the rock, which had been injured, by another.

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On Wednesday, August 3d, the statue of Hon. John Parker Hale, presented to the State of New Hampshire by his son-in-law, Senator William E. Chandler, was unveiled at Concord. The statue stands in the State-house yard, and the exercises occurred from a stand at its right. I was invited to participate, and it was an unmitigated pleasure to thus do honor to the memory of our old friend. To my gratification, Sister Abby and Ludlow surprised me by being present, and Frederick Douglass was also there. At one point in the exercises I sang the "Old Granite State," Abby, Ludlow and Douglass joining me. This was the first time in our long acquaintance that he had ever sung with me in public. The words to which we sung the song were from a draft in the handwriting of Hon. Mason W. Tappan, dated Bradford, N.H., September 13, 1845, and were as follows:

"At one point in the exercises I sang the Old Granite State":   John's account of this event contains a curious omission. During the statue unveiling ceremony, the principal orator fainted, creating a major break in the program and, no doubt, causing much anxiety. The presiding officer requested that the Hutchinsons fill the gap by singing a few antislavery songs. The unrehearsed quartet which rose to the occasion included John W. Hutchinson, Abby Hutchinson Patton, Ludlow Patton, and Frederick Douglass. The distinguished fourth member fortunately was quite familiar with the Hutchinson Family repertoire, having shared the platform with the singers - his close friends - on countless occasions. The estimated 10,000 people in the audience were described as spellbound, as this impromptu company entertained for half an hour. We have two published accounts of this incident, and it is truly puzzling that John did not include the story in his book.

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But before this song was sung, I had sung my own tribute to the memory of Hale, and I also gave reminiscences of the distinguished statesman. The song composed for the occasion by Walter Kittredge and myself, was as follows:

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I also sang several verses composed for the event by that veteran free-soiler George W. Putnam. The speaking on this occasion was as fine as is often heard  -  Rev. Dr. Alonzo H. Quint, Hon. George A. Ramsdell, Senator Chandler, Governor Tuttle, Colonel Daniel Hall, the orator of the day, Hon. Galusha A. Grow, Hon. George S. Boutwell, Frederick Douglass, and others.   Douglass caused great merriment by saying he supposed he was only present to lend color to the occasion, and though entirely unprepared, made one of the great speeches of the day.

In August I attended the Purgatory picnic at Mont Vernon, the two hundred and fiftieth anniversary celebration at Gloucester, and visited Portland and vicinity.

On September 7, John G. Whittier died, at the home of his friend, Sarah Abby Gove, Hampton Falls, N.H.   At once I wrote to Abby, and on Saturday, the 10th, with Ludlow, we attended his funeral at his old home in Amesbury. The day was pleasant, and in order to accommodate the large number who attended, the simple ceremonies of the Friends' Society were held in the garden of the estate, being conducted by William O. Newhall, of Lynn, a minister of the society. Of course the Friends do not usually have singing in their exercises, but it seemed to be the general desire that the Hutchinsons, old friends as they were of the Quaker poet, should sing, and we for our part deemed it a privilege beyond estimation. We sang "Lay Him

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Low," and "We are almost home," songs that I had sung at the memorial of Phillips, the words of which were partly composed by Abby and myself. Ludlow sang on the choruses. It was the last appearance of Abby in public, and if I were to have chosen, I could not possibly have selected a more fitting place or song in which our voices should blend for the last time. We did not realize the deep significance of those words,

We thought only of that brave, loving, gentle, pure and gifted singer lying cold in death. But we sang, as we always tried to sing, with feeling, harmony and deep meaning. There were many references to the incident, some of which I quote.

S. T. Pickard, a family connection of Whittier, and his executor, wrote the story in his paper, the Portland Transcript, as follows:

It was a happy thought of Mr. F. J. Garrison, son of Mr. Whittier's old friend, William Lloyd Garrison, to hold the funeral services of the poet in the garden at Amesbury which the windows of his study and chamber overlook. Seats were arranged around a myrtle-carpeted plat under the "Garden room" windows, where a luxuriant hydrangea bush, heavy with richly tinted blossoms held a central place. There were seats for several hundreds under the fruit trees on three sides of this square, and standing room for thousands besides. Boys clambered into the branches of the trees, and their bare feet hanging over the heads of the assembled multitude could not fail to suggest that it was the author of the "Barefoot Boy," to whose memory they were paying tribute.

The casket was placed in the little parlor, the one room in the house that has remained unchanged during the entire occupancy of the Whittier family. The portraits of the poet's mother and sister Elizabeth look down with tender benignancy from the walls. Here also is a Longfellow portrait, and one painted for Whittier in his early manhood. The Rogers group, presenting Garrison, Beecher and Whittier, with a slave girl, are on a stand in the corner. Here the loved and venerated face that was soon to be hidden forever from view, wearing the expression of heavenly peace that deeply impressed all who looked

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upon it, was upturned to the tearful gaze of neighbors and friends, for several hours preceding the services.

The venerable William O. Newhall, of Lynn, who was for many years at the head of the New England Yearly Meeting of Friends, took charge of the services, and made a few brief remarks in the way of eulogy and exhortation. He was followed by Asa C. Tuttle of Dover and Dr. Allen H. Thomas of Baltimore. The poem "At Last" was recited by the poet's dearly loved cousin, Gertrude Whittier Cartland, of Newburyport. Mrs. James H. Chase, of Providence, recited the poem, "The Eternal Goodness."   Judge Des Brisay, of Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, spoke briefly, and was followed by Rev. Dr. D. T. Fiske, of Newburyport, and Mrs. Caroline H. Dall, of Gloucester. The last speaker was the banker-poet, Edmund Clarence Stedman, of New York, whose tribute was a gem of oratory, uttered with deep feeling.

As a fitting conclusion of the impressive ceremony there arose the sweet voices of the Hutchinsons, which always had a charm for Whittier. The only surviving members of the original quartet were present, John W. Hutchinson, of Lynn, and Abby Hutchinson Patton, of New York. Fifty years ago their voices thrilled the hearts of the North, as they sang their stirring lyrics of reform. They set Whittier's stirring verse to music and gave it wings. During the war John sang it in the camps of the Union army, and when military martinets would stop him, Lincoln overruled them and allowed Whittier's voice to be heard. Now they came with heads silvered by age, but with voices still full of the old melody, to sing at the grave of their friend. They were assisted by Mr. Ludlow Patton, who has the voice and feeling of the family with which he is allied. They sang "Close his eyes, his work is done."

Mr. Whittier died at the early dawn of a lovely September day; it was at the close of a day equally perfect that his casket was lowered to a bed of roses in a grave lined with ferns and golden-rod.

Another paper said:

Among the interesting and touching features of Whittier's funeral was the singing by Mr. John W. Hutchinson and his sister, Mrs. Abby Patton. In that great assemblage of earnest representative men and women there were many who could recall the days in the old anti-slavery conflict, when the Hutchinson family helped the cause along with their stirring music; and when the clear notes of John and Abby, all now left of sixteen brothers and sisters, sounded on the still air of the delightful autumnal day, it was easy to see how hearts all about were stirred with tenderest emotion. That scene will never be forgotten by those who listened, for the music seemed to come from the upper air, and the great audience was spell-bound. Those strains will be reproduced

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by the phonograph of the soul of those who heard it while life shall last, and rival the sweetest music that shall greet the ear in the world beyond. It was a fitting and beautiful tribute to the memory of the noble, departed poet.

A week after the Whittier funeral I went to Washington in company with Walter Kittredge, to attend the national encampment of the Grand Army. Kittredge had his song, "Tenting To-night" in a handsomely bound gift-book edition. We sang it together on several occasions. Many copies of the song were sold. It was well into October when we returned. The political campaign was on, and Mrs. Helen M. Gougar and Rev. Sam. Small were doing valiant work for the Prohibitionists of the Bay State. I fell into line, attended rallies in Faneuil Hall and Tremont Temple in Boston, in Lynn and elsewhere, singing for temperance reform as opportunity offered. Mrs. Gougar was my guest at High Rock when she came to Lynn to speak.

"It was well into October when we returned":   Not long after coming home from this trip to Washington, Walter Kittredge had a serious accident, following which his appearances as a public singer were few. We are given no details except that his age was a factor in keeping him off the concert platform.

Notes by Alan Lewis