1872
1872
Naples, June.—John has invited Aunt Ann Field, and James, his wife and me and Babe Abigail to come to England to make them a visit, and we expect to sail on the Baltic July sixth.
On board S.S. Baltic, July7.—We left New York yesterday under favorable circumstances. It was a beautiful summer day, flags were flying and everything seemed so joyful we almost forgot we were leaving home and native land. There were many passengers, among them being Mr. and Mrs. Anthony Drexel and U. S. Grant, Jr., who boarded the steamer from a tug boat which came down the bay alongside when we had been out half an hour. President Grant was with him and stood on deck, smoking the proverbial cigar. We were glad to see him and the passengers gave him three cheers and three times three, with the greatest enthusiasm.
Liverpool, July16.—We arrived here to-day, having been just ten days on the voyage. There were many clergymen of note on board, among them, Rev. John H. Vincent, D.D., eminent in the Methodist Episcopal Church, who is preparing International Sunday School lessons. He sat at ourtable and Philip Phillips also, who is a noted evangelistic singer. They held services both Sabbaths, July 7 and 15, in the grand saloon of the steamer, and also in the steerage where the text was “And they willingly received him into the ship.” The immigrants listened eagerly, when the minister urged them all to “receive Jesus.” We enjoyed several evening literary entertainments, when it was too cold or windy to sit on deck.
We had the most luscious strawberries at dinner to-night, that I ever ate. So large and red and ripe, with the hulls on and we dipped them in powdered sugar as we ate them, a most appetizing way.
London, July17.—On our way to London to-day I noticed beautiful flower beds at every station, making our journey almost a path of roses. In the fields, men and women both, were harvesting the hay, making picturesque scenes, for the sky was cloudless and I was reminded of the old hymn, commencing
“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,Stand dressed in living green.”
“Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
Stand dressed in living green.”
We performed the journey from Liverpool to London, a distance of 240 miles, in five hours. John, Laura and little Pearl met us at Euston Station, and we were soon whirled away in cabs to 24 Upper Woburn Place, Tavistock Square, John’sresidence. Dinner was soon ready, a most bountiful repast. We spent the remainder of the day visiting and enjoying ourselves generally. It seemed so good to be at the end of the journey, although we had only two days of really unpleasant weather on the voyage. John and Laura are so kind and hospitable. They have a beautiful home, lovely children and apparently every comfort and luxury which this world can afford.
Sunday, July22.—We went to Spurgeon’s Tabernacle this morning to listen to this great preacher, with thousands of others. I had never looked upon such a sea of faces before, as I beheld from the gallery where we sat. The pulpit was underneath one gallery, so there seemed as many people over the preacher’s head, as there were beneath and around him and the singing was as impressive as the sermon. I thought of the hymn, “Hark ten thousand harps and voices, Sound the notes of praise above.” Mr. Spurgeon was so lame from rheumatism that he used two canes and placed one knee on a chair beside him, when preaching. His text was “And there shall be a new heaven and a new earth.” I found that all I had heard of his eloquence was true.
Sunday, July29.—We have spent the entire week sightseeing, taking in Hyde Park, Windsor Castle, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the Tower of London and British Museum. We alsowent to Madame Tussaud’s exhibition of wax figures and while I was looking in the catalogue for the number of an old gentleman who was sitting down apparently asleep, he got up and walked away! We drove to Sydenham ten miles from London, to see the Crystal Palace which Abbie called the “Christmas Palace.” Mr. Alexander Howell and Mr. Henry Chesebro of Canandaigua are here and came to see us to-day.
August13.—Amid the whirl of visiting, shopping and sightseeing in this great city, my diary has been well nigh forgotten. The descriptive letters to home friends have been numerous and knowing that they would be preserved, I thought perhaps they would do as well for future reference as a diary kept for the same purpose, but to-day, as St. Pancras’ bell was tolling and a funeral procession going by, we heard by cable of the death of our dear, dear Grandmother, the one who first encouraged us to keep a journal of daily deeds, and who was always most interested in all that interested us and now I cannot refrain if I would, from writing down at this sad hour, of all the grief that is in my heart. I sorrow not for her. She has only stepped inside the temple-gate where she has long been waiting for the Lord’s entrance call. I weep for ourselves that we shall see her dear face no more. It does not seem possible that we shall never see her again on this earth. She took such an interest inour journey and just as we started I put my dear little Abigail Beals Clarke in her lap to receive her parting blessing. As we left the house she sat at the front window and saw us go and smiled her farewell.
August20.—Anna has written how often Grandmother prayed that “He who holds the winds in his fists and the waters in the hollow of his hands, would care for us and bring us to our desired haven.” She had received one letter, telling of our safe arrival and how much we enjoyed going about London, when she was suddenly taken ill and Dr. Hayes said she could never recover. Anna’s letter came, after ten days, telling us all the sad news, and how Grandmother looked out of the window the last night before she was taken ill, and up at the moon and stars and said how beautiful they were. Anna says, “How can I ever write it? Our dear little Grandmother died on my bed to-day.”
August30.—John, Laura and their nurse and baby John, Aunt Ann Field and I started Tuesday on a trip to Scotland, going first to Glasgow where we remained twenty-four hours. We visited the Cathedral and were about to go down into the crypt when the guide told us that Gen. Sherman of U.S.A. was just coming in. We stopped to look at him and felt like telling him that we too were Americans. He was in good health and spirits, apparently, andlooked every inch a soldier with his cloak a-la-militaire around him. We visited the Lochs and spent one night at Inversnaid on Loch Lomond and then went on up Loch Katrine to the Trossachs. When we took the little steamer, John said, “All aboard for Naples,” it reminded him so much of Canandaigua Lake. We arrived safely in Edinburgh the next day by rail and spent four days in that charming city, so beautiful in situation and in every natural advantage. We saw the window from whence John Knox addressed the populace and we also visited the Castle on the hill. Then we went to Melrose and visited the Abbey and also Abbotsford, the residence of Sir Walter Scott. We went through the rooms and saw many curios and paintings and also the library. Sir Walter’s chair at his desk was protected by a rope, but Laura, nothing daunted, lifted the baby over it and seated him there for a moment saying “I am sure, now, he will be clever.” We continued our journey that night and arrived in London the next morning.
Ventnor, Isle of Wight, September9.—Aunt Ann, Laura’s sister, Florentine Arnold, nurse and two children, Pearl and Abbie, and I are here for three weeks on the seashore.
September16.—We have visited all the neighboring towns, the graves of the Dairyman’s daughter and little Jane, the young cottager, and the sceneof Leigh Richmond’s life and labors. We have enjoyed bathing in the surf, and the children playing in the sands and riding on the donkeys.
We have very pleasant rooms, in a house kept by an old couple, Mr. and Mrs. Tuddenham, down on the esplanade. They serve excellent meals in a most homelike way. We have an abundance of delicious milk and cream which they tell me comes from “Cowes”!
London, September30.—Anna has come to England to live with John for the present. She came on the Adriatic, arriving September 24. We are so glad to see her once more and will do all in our power to cheer her in her loneliness.
Paris, October18.—John, Laura, Aunt Ann and I, nurse and baby, arrived here to-day for a few days’ visit. We had rather a stormy passage on the Channel. I asked one of the seamen the name of the vessel and he answered me “The H’Albert H’Edward, Miss!” This information must have given me courage, for I was perfectly sustained till we reached Calais, although nearly every one around me succumbed.
October22.—We have driven through the Bois de Boulogne, visited Père la Chaise, the Morgue, the ruins of the Tuileries, which are left just as they were since the Commune. We spent half a day atthe Louvre without seeing half of its wonders. I went alone to a photographer’s, Le Jeune, to be “taken” and had a funny time. He queried “Parlez-vous Français?” I shook my head and asked him “Parlez-vous Anglaise?” at which query he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head! I ventured to tell him by signs that I would like my picture taken and he held up two sizes of pictures and asked me “Le cabinet, le vignette?” I held up my fingers, to tell him I would like six of each, whereupon he proceeded to make ready and when he had seated me, he made me understand that he hoped I would sit perfectly still, which I endeavored to do. After the first sitting, he showed displeasure and let me know that I had swayed to and fro. Another attempt was more satisfactory and he said “Très bien, Madame,” and I gave him my address and departed.
October26.—My photographs have come and all pronounce them indeed “très bien.” We visited the Tomb of Napoleon to-day.
October27.—We attended service to-day at the American Chapel and I enjoyed it more than I can ever express. After hearing a foreign tongue for the past ten days, it seemed like getting home to go into a Presbyterian church and hear a sermon from an American pastor. The singing in the choir was so homelike, that when they sang “Awakemy soul to joyful lays and sing thy great Redeemer’s praise,” it seemed to me that I heard a well known tenor voice from across the sea, especially in the refrain “His loving kindness, oh how free.” The text was “As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young, spreadeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings, so the Lord did lead him and there was no strange God with him.” Deut. 32: 11. It was a wonderful sermon and I shall never forget it. On our way home, we noticed the usual traffic going on, building of houses, women were standing in their doors knitting and there seemed to be no sign of Sunday keeping, outside of the church.
London, October31.—John and I returned together from Paris and now I have only a few days left before sailing for home. There was an Englishman here to-day who was bragging about the beer in England being so much better than could be made anywhere else. He said, “In America, you have the ’ops, I know, but you haven’t the Thames water, you know.” I suppose that would make a vast difference!
Sunday, November3.—We went to hear Rev. Dr. Joseph Parker preach at Exeter Hall. He is a new light, comparatively, and bids fair to rival Spurgeon and Newman Hall and all the rest. He is like a lion and again like a lamb in the pulpit.
Liverpool, November6.—I came down to Liverpool to-day with Abbie and nurse, to sail on the Baltic, to-morrow. There were two Englishmen in our compartment and hearing Abbie sing “I have a Father in the Promised Land,” they asked her where her Father lived and she said “In America,” and told them she was going on the big ship to-morrow to see him. Then they turned to me and said they supposed I would be glad to know that the latest cable from America was that U. S. Grant was elected for his second term as President of the United States. I assured them that I was very glad to hear such good news.
November9.—I did not know any of the passengers when we sailed, but soon made pleasant acquaintances. Near me at table are Mr. and Mrs. Sykes from New York and in course of conversation I found that she as well as myself, was born in Penn Yan, Yates County, New York, and that her parents were members of my Father’s church, which goes to prove that the world is not so very wide after all. Abbie is a great pet among the passengers and is being passed around from one to another from morning till night. They love to hear her sing and coax her to say “Grace” at table. She closes her eyes and folds her hands devoutly and says, “For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful.” They all say “Amen” to this, for they are fearful thatthey will not perhaps be “thankful” when they finish!
November15.—I have been on deck every day but one, and not missed a single meal. There was a terrible storm one night and the next morning I told one of the numerous clergymen, that I took great comfort in the night, thinking that nothing could happen with so many of the Lord’s anointed, on board. He said that he wished he had thought of that, for he was frightened almost to death! We have sighted eleven steamers and on Wednesday we were in sight of the banks of Newfoundland all the afternoon, our course being unusually northerly and we encountered no fogs, contrary to the expectation of all. Every one pronounces the voyage pleasant and speedy for this time of year.
Naples, N. Y., November20.—We arrived safely in New York on Sunday. Abbie spied her father very quickly upon the dock as we slowly came up and with glad and happy hearts we returned his “Welcome home.” We spent two days in New York and arrived home safe and sound this evening.
November21.—My thirtieth birthday, which we, a reunited family, are spending happily together around our own fireside, pleasant memories of the past months adding to the joy of the hour.
From theNew York Evangelistof August 15, 1872, by Rev. Samuel Pratt, D.D.
“Died, at Canandaigua, N. Y., August 8, 1872, Mrs. Abigail Field Beals, widow of Thomas Beals, in the 98th year of her age. Mrs. Beals, whose maiden name was Field, was born in Madison, Conn., April 7, 1784. She was a sister of Rev. David Dudley Field, D.D., of Stockbridge, Mass., and of Rev. Timothy Field, first pastor of the Congregational church of Canandaigua. She came to Canandaigua with her brother, Timothy, in 1800. In 1805 she was married to Thomas Beals, Esq., with whom she lived nearly sixty years, until he fell asleep. They had eleven children, of whom only four survive. In 1807 she and her husband united with the Congregational church, of which they were ever liberal and faithful supporters. Mrs. Beals loved the good old ways and kept her house in the simple and substantial style of the past. She herself belonged to an age of which she was the last. With great dignity and courtesy of manner which repelled too much familiarity, she combined a sweet and winning grace, which attracted all to her, so that the youth, while they would almost involuntarily ‘rise up before her,’ yet loved to be in her presence and called her blessed. She possessed in a rare degree the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit and lived in an atmosphere of love and peace. Her home and room were to her children and herchildren’s children what Jerusalem was to the saints of old. There they loved to resort and the saddest thing in her death is the sundering of that tie which bound so many generations together. She never ceased to take a deep interest in the prosperity of the beautiful village of which she and her husband were the pioneers and for which they did so much and in the church of which she was the oldest member. Her mind retained its activity to the last and her heart was warm in sympathy with every good work. While she was well informed in all current events, she most delighted in whatever concerned the Kingdom. Her Bible and religious books were her constant companions and her conversation told much of her better thoughts, which were in Heaven. Living so that those who knew her never saw in her anything but fitness for Heaven, she patiently awaited the Master’s call and went down to her grave in a full age like a shock of corn fully ripe that cometh in its season.”
“Died, at Canandaigua, N. Y., August 8, 1872, Mrs. Abigail Field Beals, widow of Thomas Beals, in the 98th year of her age. Mrs. Beals, whose maiden name was Field, was born in Madison, Conn., April 7, 1784. She was a sister of Rev. David Dudley Field, D.D., of Stockbridge, Mass., and of Rev. Timothy Field, first pastor of the Congregational church of Canandaigua. She came to Canandaigua with her brother, Timothy, in 1800. In 1805 she was married to Thomas Beals, Esq., with whom she lived nearly sixty years, until he fell asleep. They had eleven children, of whom only four survive. In 1807 she and her husband united with the Congregational church, of which they were ever liberal and faithful supporters. Mrs. Beals loved the good old ways and kept her house in the simple and substantial style of the past. She herself belonged to an age of which she was the last. With great dignity and courtesy of manner which repelled too much familiarity, she combined a sweet and winning grace, which attracted all to her, so that the youth, while they would almost involuntarily ‘rise up before her,’ yet loved to be in her presence and called her blessed. She possessed in a rare degree the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit and lived in an atmosphere of love and peace. Her home and room were to her children and herchildren’s children what Jerusalem was to the saints of old. There they loved to resort and the saddest thing in her death is the sundering of that tie which bound so many generations together. She never ceased to take a deep interest in the prosperity of the beautiful village of which she and her husband were the pioneers and for which they did so much and in the church of which she was the oldest member. Her mind retained its activity to the last and her heart was warm in sympathy with every good work. While she was well informed in all current events, she most delighted in whatever concerned the Kingdom. Her Bible and religious books were her constant companions and her conversation told much of her better thoughts, which were in Heaven. Living so that those who knew her never saw in her anything but fitness for Heaven, she patiently awaited the Master’s call and went down to her grave in a full age like a shock of corn fully ripe that cometh in its season.”
I don’t think I shall keep a diary any more, only occasionally jot down things of importance. Mr. Noah T. Clarke’s brother got possession of my little diary in some way one day and when he returned it I found written on the fly-leaf this inscription to the diary:
“You’d scarce expect a volume of my sizeTo hold so much that’s beautiful and wise,And though the heartless world might call me cheapYet from my pages some much joy shall reap.As monstrous oaks from little acorns grow,And kindly shelter all who toil below,So my future greatness and the good I doShall bless, if not the world, at least a few.”
“You’d scarce expect a volume of my size
To hold so much that’s beautiful and wise,
And though the heartless world might call me cheap
Yet from my pages some much joy shall reap.
As monstrous oaks from little acorns grow,
And kindly shelter all who toil below,
So my future greatness and the good I do
Shall bless, if not the world, at least a few.”
I think I will close my old journal with the mottoes which I find upon an old well-worn writing book which Anna used for jotting down her youthful deeds. On the cover I find inscribed, “Try to be somebody,” and on the back of the same book, as if trying to console herself for unexpected achievement which she could not prevent, “Some must be great!”
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