When she grew older she painted lovely designs in flowers. She also published anonymously at least one volume of stories which possessed merit. She had quite as much talent as her brother Marion, but lacked his power of application. Her Prussian Junker husband, Baron von Rabe, considered any literary activities as infra dig. for his wife. My aunt had the unspeakable sorrow of losing her second daughter, Jennie, when the latter was a young and lovely girl of nineteen. Mimoli, the third daughter, became the wife of Hugh Fraser, of the English diplomatic service. She is well known as a writer and is a woman of much personal charm. One of her sons and one of Marion Crawford’s have been killed in the present war.
According to family tradition I may claim the honor of inventing “Yellers’ Day.” The observance of the day flourished in full vigor only during our sojourn at Lawton’s Valley. We were accustomed to celebrate it on top of the hill behind the house, whence we had a view of Narragansett Bay. Our elders did not join us, but wisely permitted our activities. Hence “Yellers’ Day,” having no flavor of forbidden fruit, fell gradually into innocuous desuetude. The celebration described in the following letter has a melancholy interest as being in all probability the last of its kind.
August 3, 1860.
Dear Papa,—Wednesday we had some young ladies to spend the day and had a jolly time. At sunset we all went up on the rocks to yell, for it was the 1st of August, “Yellers’ Day.” We made a terrible noise and finally Mamma came to the door and said she thought “St. Yeller was satisfied.” We had a very nice tea, and in the evening, after looking at the moon, danced till we were fairly worn out. The evening was wound up by Mr. Turner’s (the brother of one of the young ladies, who came out about 6½) knocking one-half of the gate off its hinges, which accident gave us an opportunity of hopping onto the carriage steps and renewing our vows of eternal friendship besides a great deal of hugging and kissing.
Thomas Crawford, our uncle by marriage, came to the valley during one of these summers. He was one of the foremost American sculptors of his day, having designed some of the bronze doors at the Capitol, also the statue of Liberty that crowns the dome of the building. This is familiar to all Americans, since it has been reproduced on our five-dollar bills.
Uncle Crawford had worked beyond his strength and complained, that summer, of trouble in one of his eyes. I remember an excursion to the shores of the Bay, when Albert Sumner, the donor of our donkey, Uncle Crawford and my father were of the party. The gentlemen amused themselves with throwing sticks or stones into the water. This trivial scene impressed itself upon my memory because of the tragic death, not long afterward, of two of the actors in it. Albert Sumner, his wife and daughter were at this time planning a trip to Europe. Mr. Summer was a stout man, and some one jokingly remarked that fat people make good swimmers. This speech was sadly recalled to our minds when the steamer in which they sailed, the Lyonnaise, went to the bottom with all on board.
No particulars of their fate were known. It was said that in cases of shipwreck the law considered that the man would live longer than the woman, being stronger physically. Hence he and his heirs would inherit property. I notice that the law always has some very wise reason for favoring the man rather than the woman. The heirs of Albert Sumner and his daughter could thus have laid claim to such share of Mrs. Sumner’s property as he would have inherited, as the supposititious survivor. Charles Sumner and his family were not the sort of people to take advantage of any such legal quibble. Mrs. Albert Sumner was a woman of means and left heirs by a former husband, who very properly inherited her fortune.
Uncle Crawford also crossed the ocean, leaving his wife and children in America. The slight trouble in his eye grew gradually worse. In the midst of a winter of unprecedented severity Aunt Louisa started to rejoin him. Boston Harbor, whence all Cunard steamers then sailed, was frozen solid. It was necessary to postpone the start until a patch could be cut for the ship through the solid ice. In those days nothing was supposed to prevent the sailing of a Cunarder, but Jack Frost did delay it this once.
Mr. Crawford’s illness proved to come from a cancer behind the eye. He died after a long period of suffering.
Aunt Louisa, a woman of a most affectionate and sympathetic nature, was much worn with the long nursing and overcome with deep sorrow. She returned to America, dressed in mourning so deep that her sisters thought it excessive and unwholesome. It was said that her widow’s crape veil reached the ground, being double up to the eyes, and that her back never recovered from the bad effects of sustaining this load of mourning. A photograph of her taken at this time was marked “The over-solemn look.”