But he met in a different vein something which seemed to its narrator a hint from the spirit world—a dream which had come to her after the death of her father. In this dream she had seen him standing, a vision of health and beauty, beside the double of himself lying in last agony. He had looked down upon the suffering form as if he himself were no longer one with it; and to emphasize this had thrown a covering over the dead face. This dream had been twice repeated with only slight variations.
Whittier listened with eager interest; and then turning to the narrator, he said impressively:
“That was a good dream. I think that was sent to comfort thee.”
The poet would sometimes talk of the relations of those gone to another world to their dear ones still here; and would wonder if the departed knew of sorrow or loss to them—or, still worse, of sin in the earth-bound ones whom they watched. Yet, if this were so, he said, their outlook into the future must be larger than ours, or their faith much greater; and so, they would perceive, or believe, that all would yet be well.
XXVIII
In memory of the dear ones gone before, Whittier was desirous to buy back the old birthplace in Haverhill. To his friend, Colonel F——, conducting the negotiations for him, he wrote:
“I would leave it to any three competent judges of property in the neighborhood to fix a price, if we could not agree among ourselves.”
The purchase, however, fell through on account of the unreasonable price demanded. The owners reckoned upon Whittier’s vanity in desiring to get possession of the scene of “Snow-Bound.”
But the poet was full of thoughtfulness of what his money should do for others. Long before the possibility of this purchase came to him, he used to say that a great part of the land in the old farm was “only good to help to hold the world together.” In his letter desiring to buy the property he stated that the part he wanted was about the poorest part of the farm. “And the house to anybody but myself,” he added, “would be only valuable as firewood.”