"I love the air of hill and seaThat puts its crispness into me.I love the smiling of the skyThat sets its twinkle in mine eye.I love the vigor of the galeThat lends me strength where mine doth fail.I love the golden light of dayThat makes my jaded spirit gay.I love the dark of night whose guestI find myself when I would rest.And gratitude doth hold me thrallUnto the Giver of them all."
"I love the air of hill and seaThat puts its crispness into me.I love the smiling of the skyThat sets its twinkle in mine eye.I love the vigor of the galeThat lends me strength where mine doth fail.I love the golden light of dayThat makes my jaded spirit gay.I love the dark of night whose guestI find myself when I would rest.And gratitude doth hold me thrallUnto the Giver of them all."
A few sentences taken at random from the letters show that this expressed what was in her mind: "The day has been beautiful. You know this is the rainless season and the hills, as we came along, were all brown, no green grass anywhere, but the trees are beautiful with very full leafage, showing that the air is very moist.... I wish that you could see 'The Springs' now it is so very beautiful.... I have some dear little finches building in their evergreen trees. I think that there are several pairs. Tell Gregg that I can look from my chamber window directly into a robin's nest."
In one of her letters to her grandchildren she says: "I went down to the Young Women's Christian Association rooms yesterday afternoon to take tea and hear the report of those who have been raising money to support the work there.Some little girls were having their gymnastic lessons and were having a very jolly time. At last the leaves are all off of the trees and I think the little wayside flowers must have had their noses pinched last night by Jack Frost."
Her interest not only in the beauty of the world about her but in what others are doing to make it bring forth and bud for the good of mankind is shown over and over: "Alice is happy," she writes, "to have the weather warmer for her garden. She thinks that her vegetables have had too much hail and cold weather, but the last two days have been fine. The country here responds very quickly to showers, the trees and grass now are in perfection and the whole town is beautifully dressed. I have never seen it looking better notwithstanding the dandelions."
The family letters abound in allusions to the grandchildren and touch upon all the varied interests of her children; many were written directly to the grandchildren. It was beautiful to see the joy those little people brought to her, and it was characteristic of her that, never thinking of what might be considered as due her, she was surprised when a second grandchild was given her name.
On March 5, 1909, she writes: "I was so pleased this morning to have a telegram about the new little girl, and you were fooling Farwell about the name; I can't believe that she is named already and for me. If she really has the name of Alice, I hope that she will be a better woman than I have been. I am crazy to see her and am wondering if she looks as little Faith did and has as much hair. Oh dear! the distance is tremendous sometimes. I do wish that I had a home nearer my family.
"What did 'Sister' say? What did Alan say and do?... My best love and congratulations to each. I am so glad to have another granddaughter."
Each one of the grandchildren had a special place in her thought and affections, and was beautiful to her. "The children are well and really pretty,—but not in pictures," she writes once.
The strength of her hands was largely used in knitting dainty garments for the children and their mothers. During her last summer she spoke of this to a friend, as if apologizing for not working solely for our soldiers, instead of indulging herself in doing what she did for herown, who "seemed to like what she made for them." This is the only self-indulgence that is mentioned in all the letters that have been read in preparing this sketch. Remembering how large were her gifts to war relief compared to what she ever spent for herself, one can think only with delight that she had the pleasure of weaving so many loving thoughts for those dearest to her into her last gifts to them.
The following shows a tact that often wins where criticism would lose: "It was Maude's birthday yesterday ... two friends came to dinner. The second maid had the misfortune to fall down, or rather turn her ankle standing up, and she had to be put to bed. The cook is a good-natured girl and she thought that she could wait on the table. I did not think much of her ability, but thanked her, gave her a few instructions, and told her to put on a white waist and wear a good white apron. Well I was repaid for not showing any doubt to her, for she waited very well indeed, and all went merry as abirthdaybell."
She does not hesitate to criticize herself, even to the point of placing herself in a ridiculouslight, one of the hallmarks never found on small souls. For instance, she once wrote: "You will be interested in my yesterday afternoon exploits. I started to crochet a white hand-bag, like one that Mrs. S—— is making, and after I had done quite a lot, I found a mistake away back and so went to work and took it out. Then I thought I would fill one of my fountain pens, and when I thought that I had been unusually expeditious and neat, I looked in the glass and found my best white waist splashed up with the ink. Wasn't I a very low-spirited woman! This morning I am trying to reduce the brilliant color of the spots by putting on salt and lemon and putting in the sun, but I know not if they will go,but I consider them a disgrace to Alice Cogswell Bemis."
The letters give glimpses of many personal gifts that were so well concealed from all except those to whom they were made. It is shown that these were not given impulsively, but were carefully thought out and almost invariably planned to meet what seemed to her a definite need. For example: "I have told Mrs. Gregg about my plan for a trip for Gregg and herself and offeredto pay all the expense.... I will enclose a check which you can fill out as I have no idea how much it will cost. At any rate please use it and send Gregg away for a while; it will be a benefit to him to travel and be away from servants. Let him look after himself."
She rarely gives advice, but frequently makes friendly suggestions backed by the material wherewithal necessary to carry them out. "I have been sorry to know that Gregg has been having so much cold; it came to me one night that perhaps it would do him good to take a trip down to Hampton. I remember that Mrs. B—— had a son with General Armstrong at Hampton, teaching typesetting, and she went down to see him. She told me of some people who went down there every year to avoid the snows because they never had catarrhal troubles at Hampton. She said that it was a fine climate, so I wondered ... if it would not do Gregg good to go down there and live in the open air of that lovely region for several weeks."
In writing to her son in February, 1907, of the laying of the corner-stone of Bemis Hall, at Colorado College, she makes no allusion to thegift that made this building possible, and says only: "I suppose Gregg wrote you or Sister that I helped lay the corner-stone of the new hall yesterday morning. Mrs. S., one of the 1908 Class, and myself patted on the cement. Gregg remarked if Daddy and Alan had been there, there would have been a lot more put on. The wind was very chilly yesterday, but we were not there very long and we were fairly well wrapped."
Mrs. Bemis had an attack of appendicitis while in Boston in the autumn of 1910, which made an immediate operation necessary. When she was able to be moved, Mr. and Mrs. Taylor took her to Asheville for the winter, as she was not strong enough for the longer trip to Colorado; but the weather there that year was very unfortunate for an invalid, and later they went to Atlantic City. Here Mr. Bemis joined them; he now was able to make business arrangements that relieved him of the many details he had long carried, and a new era in the family life was begun—the happiest of all.
From that time all enforced separations were over, and he was with his wife continuouslywherever it was best for her to be. When, after a year, she was able to return to Colorado Springs, she was very happy to be again in her home, and the old life among friends was resumed as always, quickly and happily.
Birthdays and wedding anniversaries were gala days in the family, especially Mr. Bemis's birthday, when there was always a large dinner party with intimate friends added to the family group. Fun and abounding cheer were invariably among the good things provided. As these days came around there was no abatement of interest in them and of cheerful outward observance.
For many years very definite plans were made by the children for the golden wedding of their father and mother, on November 21, 1916. That was to be the crowning day of all the family days, and though Mrs. Bemis sometimes protested against planning for it, saying that she couldn't expect to see that day, as it approached she took much pleasure in the plans her children made for it. They were all to come home, each bringing one or more of the grandchildren. Their mother was to have no care whatever in connectionwith the celebration. Mrs. Taylor, the only one whose home was in Colorado Springs, made arrangements to have the family dinner in her own house and later in the evening a reception for friends.
The summer of 1916 was passed as usual at Mohonk, and was followed by the stay of some weeks in Boston that Mr. and Mrs. Bemis made each autumn. While there, Mrs. Bemis had a fall, which later proved to have serious effects. This was barely a month before the golden wedding, and though she tried to treat it lightly and took the journey to Colorado Springs, on arriving there she consulted her physician, who said that a surgical operation was necessary. She wanted to postpone it until after the golden wedding celebration, but he was not willing to risk any delay, and on November 16 she went through the ordeal. The convalescence was more rapid than the family had dared to hope, but they knew that the situation was still serious when the wedding day came. To them fell the delicate task of planning to observe it so that Mrs. Bemis would not know it was done with anxious hearts, and of making it only a time of rejoicing, andwithal to do this in a way that would not tax her in the least.
There was an early dinner for old and young, with one vacant place, in the family home. Letters, telegrams, and whatever else had been written for the occasion were read, and then all went to the hospital for a short call. Five grandchildren were there, representing each of the three families; with Mr. Bemis and their parents they entered the invalid's room in procession. Each child carried a long-stemmed golden chrysanthemum, the girls dressed in white with yellow ribbon bows on their hair, the boys wearing yellow neckties; the older ones each gave her a few words of greeting as cheerfully as if they had come with light hearts from a feast where there was no shadow. "Just like the Bemises," it was said.
She was able to listen to a number of letters and telegrams and to enjoy some of the flowers that had been sent in great abundance to the house. In writing of that day, one of her children says: "I shall never forget her face looking so thin and delicate but so beaming with happiness and the humorous twinkle of her eyes behindher spectacles. Grandpa walked at the head of the procession looking very proud and happy and making a great tramping and show at keeping time. Dorée Taylor's golden curls were like sunshine, and we were all so happy to think that in spite of all our fears Mama Bemis was still with us. How glad we all are that we had that happy time together!"
All her good pluck and its continuance in the days that followed had its good result. At first the convalescence was surprisingly rapid, and in a few weeks she was able to leave the hospital and begin the climb back to her old strength. It was a trying winter, but a trip to California helped her much, so that when she reached Mohonk for her last stay there the gain was marked and she moved about with ease. One of her friends who spent the summer near her states that she spoke often of this gain, and showed her old cheer and interest in all that affected her friends and in the stirring events throughout the world and especially in the great war into which we had entered; and that she talked more often than was her wont of the inner life and of the inevitable change—the great adventure—and the revelationsit would bring. She spoke as if she thought it might come to her in the near future, but always with a quiet acceptance of it as one experience in the continuous life.
For one reason only she would have it delayed, that her husband might not have to take the rest of his journey alone. This wish was not fulfilled, for the transition came quickly. She was spared what would have been difficult for one with her independent spirit—a long time of physical dependence on others. On October 9 she left Boston with her husband for Colorado. A slight cold which she had seemed better on reaching Chicago, but on arriving home it increased, and though she tried to ignore it for a day or two, she was obliged to call her physician. It soon proved very serious; double pneumonia developed rapidly, and on the 18th, with her husband and all her children around her, she passed peacefully and without pain into the fuller life.
A brief service was held in the First Congregational Church of Colorado Springs on the afternoon of the following day, and in the evening Mr. Bemis and all his family left for the east with the body which, on October 23, was laid inthe Newton Cemetery beside those of her two children. The funeral was held at two o'clock on the afternoon of that day in the chapel of the Newton Cemetery. Friends and relatives from many directions were gathered there, and the chancel was filled with flowers sent from far and near.
It was one of New England's most glorious autumn days. Though there was no wind, the bright leaves fell in abundance quietly and steadily in the warm sunshine.
The service was conducted by the Rev. James B. Gregg, D.D., for over thirty years a personal friend of the family, and bound to Mr. and Mrs. Bemis by a very close and tender tie in the marriage of their son to his daughter Faith. He was also their pastor in Colorado Springs for twenty-seven years. The service was very simple, consisting only of wisely chosen selections from the Bible, full of tenderness and of joy and faith in the eternal, followed by an uplifting and strengthening prayer that Dr. Gregg had written for that special service.
This brief sketch of one into whose life came farmore than the ordinary measure of happiness, and who had the heart and the will to bring all the happiness she could to others, is all too inadequate; the only justification for its existence lies in the hope that it may, in some degree, suggest to her children's children and to those who come after them, the personality that was so dear and so human to those who knew her, so unselfish and so thoughtful for others, so mindful of the fact that this life of ours is only a stewardship.