“Well, and how does thee like Quaker noses?”
What hospitality, what cordiality in Miss Whittier’s way of leading along a guest by the hand given in greeting, until she had placed her in the most comfortable seat!
Like her brother she had that keenness of retort often at once brilliant and yet full of kindly consolation. A young friend came to her one day overwhelmed by the many troubles and sorrows of her lot and in a mood which found life altogether too hard to be borne. Miss Whittier with many a word of sympathy for her griefs said to her at last:
“But what would thee have? Thee would not be an oyster, would thee?”
And before the eyes of her listener there rose in consolation that antithesis of pain, a radiant vision of the joy of life.
A letter from Miss Whittier gives glimpses of the home life and proves her loyalty to home and friends. She writes:
“I was away more than four weeks. It is now nearly four since I came back. No, Mary, Greenleaf has not been out in his old coat and hat hunting asters and gentians. I wish he could. He has been home a few days. He seemed to have had a pleasant tour all about; but for more than a fortnight he has been quite sick, has had a visit from the doctor every day He seems somewhat better now, but has hardly faith enough himself. He says the war is waiting while he is ill.
“I have missed thee, Mary, sadly; but I know how delightful it must be in Rehoboth home, so I am patient. Greenleaf has not wanted to see anyone; but I am sure he would be rejoiced to see thee.
“My little journey was very pleasant, in Lynn among dear old friends and Aunt Phoebe so glad to have me—and then in Reading, of course, nothing could be better. I think the Reading sunshine and moonlight more wonderful than anything I had known before. I do not feel quite as much stronger as I did when I first came home, but am sure it did me good. I was only one day with dear Hattie Sewall at Melrose.... M—— dear, if I don’t go so much among the glorious woods, I know how beautiful these warm, bright days must be to you, gypsying as you are. I did not go to the Fair, but ’twas all very nice and Lucy Larcom sent me a great bunch of fringed gentians the day after. How do you all feel about the war? For my part, I will keep faith in Frémont! What does it all mean—the murmurs against Frémont?...