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_ALICE COGSWELL BEMIS_




ALICE COGSWELL BEMIS

_A SKETCH BY A FRIEND_

[Illustration]

_BOSTON_
PRIVATELY PRINTED
1920


_The Merrymount Press · Boston_

[Illustration]




ALICE COGSWELL BEMIS


Alice Cogswell Bemis came from a long line of good British stock. She
was in the eighth generation from John Cogswell, who was born at
Westbury Leigh, Wiltshire, in 1592. He was a man of standing and of
considerable inherited property. Among the latter were "The Mylls,"
called "Ripond," situated in the parish of Fromen, Selwood, together
with the homestead and certain personal property. He married Elizabeth
Thompson, a daughter of the Vicar of Westbury parish. After twenty years
of married life, during which they had lived in the family homestead and
he had carried on his father's prosperous business, he decided to
emigrate to America, and on May 23, 1625, leaving one married daughter
in England, they embarked with their eight other children on the famous
ship, _The Angel Gabriel_. We find no mention of a special reason for
their leaving England, but it was probably the same that led many others
of their type to begin life afresh in the new world; here the
possibilities of the country to be developed were limitless, and
doubtless these offered a better outlook for their children, whose
welfare must have been uppermost in their thoughts and plans.

The voyage of _The Angel Gabriel_ and its wreck off Pemaquid, on the
coast of Maine, in the frightful gale of August 15, 1625, are told in
the graphic story of the Rev. Richard Mather, who was a passenger on the
ship _James_, which sailed from England on the same day. The _James_ lay
at anchor off the Isles of Shoals while _The Angel Gabriel_ was off
Pemaquid. She was torn from her anchors and obliged to put to sea, but
after two days' terrible battling with storm and wave, reached Boston
harbor with "her sails rent in sunder, and split in pieces, as if they
had been rotten rags." Of _The Angel Gabriel_, he says: "It was burst in
pieces and cast away." Strong winds from the northeast and great tidal
waves made it a total wreck. John Cogswell and all his family were
washed ashore from the broken decks of their ship, but several others
lost their lives. Some of the many valuable possessions they had brought
with them never came to shore, but among the articles saved was a tent
which gave good service at once; this Mr. Cogswell pitched for a
temporary abiding place. As soon as possible he took passage for Boston,
where he made a contract with the captain of a small bark to sail for
Pemaquid and transport his family to Ipswich, Massachusetts, then a
newly settled town.

The settlers of Ipswich at once appreciated these newcomers, and the
municipal records show that liberal grants of land were made to John
Cogswell. Among them was one spoken of as "Three hundred acres of land
at the further Chebokoe," which later was incorporated as a part of
Essex. Here in 1636 their permanent home was built, and here, covering a
period of over two hundred and fifty years, their descendants cultivated
the land. The Cogswells had brought with them several farm and household
servants, as well as valuable furniture, farming implements, and
considerable money. A log house was soon built, but the boxes containing
their many valuables were unopened until it was practicable for Mr.
Cogswell to build a frame house. A description of this remains, in which
we are told that it stood back from the highway, and was approached
through shrubbery and flowers. It is further said, that among the
treasures which were taken into the new home from the boxes were
several pieces of carved furniture, embroidered curtains, damask table
linen, and much silver plate; that there was a Turkish carpet, an
unusual treasure for those days, is well attested. Their descendants
still treasure relics of their ancestors, such as articles of personal
adornment, a quaint mirror, and an old clock.

John Cogswell was the third original settler in that part of Ipswich
which is now Essex. His piety, his intelligence, and his comparative
wealth gave him a leading position in the town and the church. His name
is often seen in the records of Ipswich and always with the prefix
"Mr.," which, in those days, was a title of honor given to only a few
who were gentlemen of distinction. He died November 29, 1669, aged
seventy-seven years. His funeral procession traversed a distance of five
miles to the old North graveyard of the First Church, under an escort of
armed men as a protection against a possible attack of Indians. Three
years later the body of Mrs. Cogswell was laid beside her husband's. The
record that remains of her is: "She was a woman of sterling qualities
and dearly loved by all who knew her." Their son, William Cogswell,
seems to have had many of his father's traits and was one of the most
influential citizens of that period. To him was due the establishment of
the parish and church and the building of the meeting-house; and when,
according to the quaint custom of those days, the seats in the
meeting-house were assigned, his wife was given the place by the
minister's wife, a mark of greatest distinction. Two of his grandsons
were men of note. Colonel Nathaniel Wade was an officer in the
Revolutionary army and a personal friend of Washington and Lafayette.
Another, the Rev. Abiel Holmes, father of Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, was
a graduate of Yale, and received the degree of Doctor of Divinity from
Edinburgh. He was settled for many years over the First Church of
Cambridge.

[Illustration: Cogswell House, Ipswich, Mass.]

One of the deeds of land made to their children was to their son William
"on the south side of Chebacco River." The variation in the spelling of
this proper name is one of the many we find in early New England
records. At the same time a dwelling at Chebacco Falls was given to
Deacon Cornelius Waldo, who had married their daughter Hannah. In
direct line of descent from these two, and in the sixth generation from
the first Cogswell in America, was Ralph Waldo Emerson. Mrs. Bemis was
in the eighth generation, through the son William, and from him also was
descended Oliver Wendell Holmes, in the fifth generation. We cannot well
follow here the descendants of the other children of John and Elizabeth
Cogswell, but certain it is that in each of the generations to the
present day we find many well-educated men and women of character, with
a strong sense of their obligations as citizens, all doing good work for
the world in various lines of activity. They have verified what one has
written concerning John Cogswell and his family: "They were the first of
the name to reach these shores; the lapse of two hundred and fifty years
has given to them a numerous posterity, some of whom in each generation
have lived in eventful periods, have risen to eminence, and fulfilled
distinguished service in the history of the country."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

With these rich inheritances as her birthright, with parents who
enforced and strengthened in their children the principles that they
themselves had been taught, Alice Cogswell was born in the family home
of her parents, Daniel and Mary Davis Randall Cogswell, at Ipswich, on
January 5, 1845. She was one of seven children, three of whom died very
young, and of the seven only her sister Lucy survived her. The mother
died when Alice was only four. Until the time of the father's death,
when she was eighteen and her sister three years older, several
different housekeepers were in charge of the home, and yet it appears
that these two young girls very early and in a way most unusual for any
so young, not only gave life and charm to the house, but directed and
controlled all its activities to a great extent. A cousin who was very
dear to Alice writes to her son of his memory of those days in the quiet
country home at Ipswich, giving a charming picture that shows the spirit
that prompted all her life to its end. He says: "Every one in Ipswich
who remembers her would speak of her sweet, cheery and generous spirit.
One of the very earliest of my childhood recollections is a little
incident that occurred when I could not have been more than four or five
years old. One day my mother let me go all by myself to Uncle
Cogswell's to see Cousin Alice. Our homes were rather near together but
it was to me then a journey of large proportions. At dinner I can
remember that I sat next Cousin Alice in a chair with two big books to
make it high enough. After dinner we went into the garden and picked a
basket of pears which she gave me to take home. This little visit was
like many others that followed and it is typical of all that she has
done throughout a long and useful life. Though I was only a little
fellow, I have a strong impression of an energetic, influential family,
full of good deeds, and of a large house with well stocked cellars and
larders that seemed to exist chiefly for the benefit of neighbors and
friends. Lucy and Alice were beautiful young women. Their mother died
when they were quite young, and while they were in their early 'teens'
they were in charge of the Cogswell home. This they made most
attractive. My boyhood impression is that they were always doing nice
things for people--always sending their friends baskets from their
larder. I have a wonderful impression of Uncle Cogswell's garden. As
gardens go nowadays it may not have been unusual, but to me it was a
rare spot. It contained choice varieties of currants, gooseberries,
pears and cherries. There may have been some apple trees, but I have the
feeling that apples were a trifle common to associate with his exotic
varieties. From the time of my father's death, which occurred when I was
eight years old, Cousin Alice seemed to assume a godmotherly interest in
me and my career. Three evenings a week I went to the Lowell Institute,
which kept me in town too late to go home to Ipswich, and she gave me a
key to her home in Newton and had a room always ready for my use. She
always took a generous interest in my work. Her moral support was
everything to me. She made me feel that my profession was worthy and
dignified." Many students whom she helped in later years would gladly
give the same testimony of support and encouragement received from her.

The sisters attended the Ipswich Seminary, one of the famous schools of
New England in its day. Its principal, Mrs. Cowles, had an attractive
personality, a cultivated mind, and great force of character. Her
husband, Dr. Cowles, was a clergyman and a man of wide influence, though
because of his blindness he was not in the active ministry for many
years. In spite of this seemingly insurmountable obstacle he was a
constant student, especially of Greek and Hebrew, and wrote much of
value on the Old Testament. His presence added greatly to the household,
whose refined and stimulating atmosphere seems to have made as strong an
impression on the students as did the soundness of the teaching in the
classroom. The two sisters, Lucy and Alice, took the entire course of
study that the seminary offered. Alice graduated from it in 1864. Many
of its pupils became women of large influence in the world, and carried
from their life in the seminary a profound impression of the religious
influences that had surrounded them there. Their own thought and their
manner of life showed the lasting value of the emphasis that had been
laid in the school on the supreme importance of right living and right
thinking. Those who knew the sisters well recall the many times in after
years when, as they mentioned some wise rule for life, they prefaced it
with, "As Mrs. Cowles used to tell us," or "as Dr. Cowles said." One of
Mrs. Cowles's daughters now living writes of Alice: "I remember that she
was universally liked and loved." It was a happy school life and a
happy girlhood for both of these sisters. Notwithstanding their great
loss in having to grow to womanhood without their mother, a loss of
which they were always conscious, they had great compensation in their
close companionship with their father and with each other. Their father
gave them the best of instruction in things spiritual, and unusual
training in all practical matters, especially with regard to the value
of money, how to care for it and how to spend it, and then gave them a
much freer hand in the direction of many personal matters than most
girls of their age were accustomed to have; this freedom they used
wisely. One of them was once asked how they filled their days in times
that often seem very dull and uninteresting to the modern girl with her
round of engagements. The answer was, "We skated in winter and ran wild
in summer." What was said in jest was far from being the literal truth,
but it suggests the happy impression that their girlhood gave them of
genuine freedom guided by the wise counsels of others and their own good
sense.

[Illustration]

In June of 1864 Lucy Cogswell was married to Mr. George B. Roberts, and
their house became home to Alice. Mr. Roberts afterward built the house
on Craigie Street, Cambridge, in which they spent the rest of their
lives. It was here that the two generations met often while the Bemis
family lived in the east, and later when they came on from Colorado. The
relation between the sisters had hitherto been a particularly close one,
and was only strengthened by the happy new family ties that came to
each. To those who loved these sisters and saw both come to a time when
feebleness and physical restriction might have been before them, there
can be only rejoicing that they were spared any added weakness of body,
and that there was no clouding of their bright and active minds, no
abatement of interest in the life about them as long as they were here.
Mrs. Roberts had been in such delicate health for several years that it
did not seem possible that she would outlive her sister, but only two
months after their last parting, the great transition came to her also.

       *       *       *       *       *

We are given a charming glimpse into the first meeting between Mr. and
Mrs. Bemis in some interesting reminiscences Mr. Bemis has recently
written for his grandchildren. He had been settled in business in St.
Louis for some years when Alice Cogswell, shortly after her sister's
marriage, went there to visit a very dear aunt, "Aunt Lucy Smyth." The
occasion of their meeting came through Mr. Bemis's first visit to Boston
in 1865, which, in his own words, "resulted in an important occurrence."
He met there a business connection, Mr. Zenas Cushing, who had become
Alice Cogswell's guardian on the death of her father; knowing that Mr.
Bemis was from St. Louis, Mr. Cushing gave him a letter of introduction
to his ward and bespoke his interest in her and his help in any business
advice she might need. Mr. Bemis tells his story thus: "Some three weeks
after my return from Boston I gave myself the pleasure of calling one
evening and presenting the letter. As I am writing these lines I can see
'Miss Cogswell' coming into the parlor where I was awaiting her. She was
dressed in the fashion of the day, having on a silk dress with a very
full skirt held out by a hoop-skirt of large dimensions. She met me
cordially and asked me to be seated and we talked for an hour of my
first trip to Boston, of her guardian and others. As I was leaving and
closing the gate I heard myself saying that I might marry that girl if I
could win her. It was not so-called 'love at first sight,' but it
ripened into love with a few subsequent calls. I think it was a very
fortunate circumstance that I met Alice Cogswell when I did." And very
fortunate for many others did this union prove. The outward condition of
their early lives was very different, but the two families from which
they came were alike in the standards which they held for themselves and
instilled into their children.

The story of Mr. Bemis's early years is the familiar one of that type of
western pioneer to whom the whole country is deeply indebted. He was
born in Fitchburg, Massachusetts, on May 18, 1833, of parents who had
all the best inheritance to give their children, but few material
possessions. When he was an infant the family moved to a small village
in Chemung County, New York, where his mother's brother, Henry Farwell,
lived with his family. The relation between the two families was a close
one, and five years later it was decided that they should move together
to Illinois. Reports of its fertile soil and what it promised for the
future had come back to them by the slow and uncertain mails. They knew
that it offered more for themselves, and what was far more important to
them, for their children, than they could ever have in their present
surroundings. When they made the great change they knew well the dangers
and difficulties that must be met on the journey when taken under the
most favorable conditions. They knew, too, how these would be increased
in their case, as they were taking so many young children, eight in all;
but the courageous band to which they belonged were men and women of
industry and personal integrity, with a strong sense of real values,
who, having made their decision, took no reckoning of obstacles to the
end before them.

It was a long, difficult journey. In a pleasant sketch of this that Mr.
Bemis has given, we have only the remembrance of such incidents as stay
in the memory of a child. There is no mention of hardships. He recalls
the covered wagon, but knows only from others of the slow journey to
Buffalo, thence by boat to Detroit, and the continued journey to
Chicago, then Fort Dearborn, where they did not remain for fear of
being eaten by mosquitoes or of having fever and ague, and so camped at
what is now Oak Park. Thence they moved on to Lighthouse Point, Ogle
County, Illinois, where the Bemis family found a temporary lodging in a
log cabin and the others lived in covered wagons until they had built a
comfortable cabin for themselves.

From the beginning of the making of the new home on the empty prairie,
the children took their full share in the work it involved. Mr. Bemis
has told us that he was doing from one-half to two-thirds of a man's
work on the farm when he was twelve years old, the year in which his
wife was born into the well-established life of a fine old New England
town, rich for her in all the inheritances that seven generations gave;
all the way before her made as smooth as love and ample means could make
it.

At the age of nineteen Mr. Bemis left the farm and began his business
career in Chicago as clerk to a shipping firm. After six years, with
only his own savings for his capital, and helped by the loan of some
machinery supplied by a cousin, he went to St. Louis and began the
business which has borne his name for over sixty years, a name that is
a synonym in all the business world for ability and integrity. His
success did not come by accident, or by any so-called good fortune, but
as the result of patience and perseverance, steadily following the
principles and the rules he laid down for himself very early in life. He
speaks with gratitude of the fact that he had to learn by force of
circumstances "the blessedness of drudgery and the value of time and
money in his long hours of work and in the closest practice of economy."

We have seen how different were the outward circumstances of their early
lives. In temperament also Mr. and Mrs. Bemis differed much; but in
sympathy on all great matters, in their ideals of life, and their
unfailing recognition of their own personal obligation and duty, they
were always one. In the reminiscences he has written for his
grandchildren, Mr. Bemis says: "Parents can lay the foundation for each
child by their own life. They are giving daily examples by their actions
and by word of mouth. If parents are living well-ordered and Christian
lives, their children will be likely to follow their example. They will
know nothing else. Good boys and girls make good men and women. An
educated and scientific carpenter will hew and mortise the timbers to
fit the keys that bind the frame to a complete and solid house, so that
storm and winds pass it by unharmed. So with boys and girls; if their
characters are moulded in truth, mortised and keyed together with
obedience to God and man, when they become men and women they will
withstand the environment of bad persons and escape unscathed. Hence
their young lives, founded on the bedrock of Christian characters, are
well qualified to work out their own destiny and make their lives
whatever they will."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Illustration]

Mr. and Mrs. Bemis were married at the home of Mr. and Mrs. George B.
Roberts, in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, on November 21, 1866, and went
directly to their new home in St. Louis. There the oldest son, Judson
Cogswell, was born in December of the following year; and there they
remained until they returned to Boston in 1870, when for business
reasons it became necessary for Mr. Bemis to have his headquarters in
that city. After the birth of the second son, Albert Farwell, they moved
to Newton, Massachusetts, where their three other children were born:
Maude, now Mrs. Reginald H. Parsons, Lucy Gardner, who lived less than
three years, and Alice, now Mrs. Frederick M. P. Taylor. Three of these
survived their mother and had long been established in their own homes
before she left them. To the father and mother was given the great
happiness of seeing each of these new households controlled by the same
standards of right and the same sense of personal and civic
responsibility on which they had built their own united lives.

Mr. and Mrs. Bemis's home was in Newton for eleven years, and during
that time it was the centre for the family connection in New England and
for many friends. It was always rich in association for themselves and
family, and was made rich in the same way for many others. Family cares
that came upon Mrs. Bemis and the part she took in the life of the
church and the community made the years spent there the most active of
her life. After her removal to Colorado Springs, she showed in a
practical and liberal form her interest in the First Congregational
Church in that city, which the family attended, but she had such a
strong sentiment about the church at Newton and the experiences that
came to her while connected with it that she never removed her
membership; its pastor, Dr. Calkins, and his wife were among her most
valued friends.

       *       *       *       *       *

In 1881 a serious throat trouble developed, and Mrs. Bemis was taken
south for the winter. She did not gain there, and the following year was
sent to Colorado Springs. Slight hope was then given to her family of
her living more than a few months, but the climate and the sunshine
effected what had seemed impossible, and within a few years she was able
to lead a comparatively normal life in the new home where she was
happily settled. A house was rented for the family until 1885, when the
one at 508 North Cascade Avenue was built. This was henceforth home to
her and to all the family as long as she was there with her welcome for
them, and it soon became a centre for a large number of friends who are
rich in memories of the unfailing welcome and genuine hospitality so
freely given them. These were not restricted to a limited number with
tastes and outward circumstances that were comparatively alike, but were
extended to a large circle that differed widely in both of these. The
sincerity, genuineness, and simplicity of the lives of those that made
this home created an atmosphere that was felt as soon as one entered it.

Many of the younger generation both within and without the family circle
will have enduring memories of that house. Alan Gregg recalled in a few
words childhood memories that were common to many; writing from his post
in France he said: "Mrs. Bemis's death was a great surprise and shock,
and the long time that elapsed between knowing of her illness and her
death made me feel pretty far away. I remember her letting me play that
music box to my heart's content, and the way she made Gregg laugh at an
unexpected fall he took, instead of cry, better than anything else. She
could also do nice things for you without spilling over into
sentimentality."

Her grandchildren's recollections of her will be mostly in connection
with events in their own homes, where her visits were looked for eagerly
by those on the Atlantic coast and those on the Pacific, but happily
some of them are old enough to remember and pass on to the others the
impression made on them and on other children in the family connection,
of the grandmother's great pleasure in being with them and her plans for
their comfort and happiness. They recall the perfect housekeeping, where
the wheels seemed to move easily and were always out of sight; the
daintiness of all its appointments, which was shown too in the dress and
personal adornments of her who made this home and of those who shared it
with her. Here she welcomed many of her old friends and also new
acquaintances with whom lasting friendships were formed; here the
children gathered around them a fine group of congenial companions who
became their lasting friends; here they grew to manhood and to
womanhood; from thence they were all married, and hither they all
returned many times, with wife, husbands, and their own sons and
daughters for happy family reunions.

In this home the saddest as well as the most joyful experiences of her
life came to her. The former were borne with the calmness and strength
shown only by those with great capacity for suffering and great power of
self-control. The hardest trial that she had ever known was at a time
when she had little physical strength to meet it. After a year with the
family in Colorado, the eldest son, Judson, was sent to a manual
training school at St. Louis, Missouri, where there were many family
friends. He was a lad of much promise, a great reader, with varied gifts
and tastes. He had a very social nature and a warm interest in people,
was noble in character, and deep in his affections. The separation was
very hard for his mother, but it was met with the unselfishness she
always showed when her children's interests were to be considered. She
herself chose it, as she wanted him to have this special kind of
training that could not be found nearer home. In the second year of his
absence he was taken suddenly ill with pneumonia. His parents were
summoned at once, and his father arrived before his death, but his
mother could not reach St. Louis till some hours later. The loss of the
little daughter Lucy, who had died in Newton of scarlet fever, was still
fresh in her memory when the new sorrow came. This was borne
wonderfully, but it changed all life for her as nothing else ever did.
In 1904 came the third break in the family circle, when Mrs. Parsons
with her beautiful little girl, Alice Loraine, nearly three years old,
the first granddaughter in the family, was visiting her grandparents in
Colorado Springs. No child could have been more tenderly loved and cared
for than she, but nothing could avert the fatal illness that developed
soon after their arrival.

       *       *       *       *       *

During the years that followed her going west, Mrs. Bemis spent only one
summer there. For several successive seasons she went with her children
to Minnetonka in Minnesota; but it was not possible for Mr. Bemis to be
with them there more than he was during the winter, because of its
distance from Boston, and a happy change came to all when later Mrs.
Bemis had gained enough to make it safe for her to spend some months of
each year by the sea on Cape Ann, where the family had headquarters for
many summers. Twice she went abroad with her children; first during the
summer of 1891 and five years later for a year of study and extended
travel for her daughters. Marjorie Gregg, who knew her well, recalling
her many journeys, says: "Few not loving travel for its own sake could
or would have taken so many long journeys. The trips east in the spring
and back to Colorado in the autumn became a habit, and she carried them
out with precision and determination that did not ignore discomforts;
she saw these, felt them and mentioned them, but never feared or
regarded them. She planned and packed and made all arrangements without
confusion or mistakes; never 'took it out' on other people, but refused
help even in late years. It would be impossible to count up the miles
travelled, the time spent on Pullman cars, the trunks packed--all not
because of _Wanderlust_, curiosity, or restlessness, but for love of
family--that she and her children might be with their father half of
each year and that she might keep close to her sister and nieces, whose
relation to 'Aunt Alice' was as close as if the two families had lived
in the same town. Later Grandpa and Grandma Bemis journeyed together
indefatigably."

When Mr. Bemis laid aside many of the details of his business, they
chose Lake Mohonk, New York, for their summer home, and the last seven
summers of her life were spent very happily there; so happily, that each
year they engaged the same rooms for the following season and said they
meant to do this as long as they lived. It became a real home to them.
Mr. and Mrs. Smiley, wonderful host and hostess to all, were soon their
warm personal friends, and many pleasant acquaintances with guests were
renewed each year. Among their most valued friends there was Dr. Faunce,
president of Brown University, who conducted the Sunday services year
after year. They considered his sermons as among the best and most
helpful they ever heard, and after each season thought and talked much
of them, always looking forward to the coming of the summer Sundays,
their brightest days at Mohonk. Here every condition met their tastes
and their needs; the great beauty of the place itself, the quiet and
peace of the house, the wise and unusual way in which it is ordered, all
combined to give them an ideal residence for the summer. The fact that
young people of a fine type were always there added much to Mrs. Bemis's
pleasure. She enjoyed watching their sports and their life in the open.
Her windows overlooked the lake, and she sat there hour after hour
watching the parties coming and going in boats and climbing the hills.
Her delight in the beauties of the whole picture before her, than which
there are few to compare with it the world over, grew steadily with each
day there. Just before leaving Mohonk for the last time, she wrote to a
young cousin: "I wish I could transport you all here. I have always said
that I would like to live on a beautiful estate and have no care of it;
and here I have been for seven summers and no place by any possibility
could be finer. Mr. Smiley did not spoil nature but kept its wonderful
beauty and added to it."

       *       *       *       *       *

During the last years they were together, Mr. and Mrs. Bemis made
several interesting trips to California and to Seattle, to be with their
daughter, Mrs. Parsons. The mere recital of all these journeyings may
give the impression that the life in Colorado Springs was a very broken
one, but it did not seem so to her friends there, for at each return it
was resumed so quickly and so quietly that they think of it rather as
continuous. No friend and no interest she had in any work that helped on
the general welfare was ever ignored or forgotten by her wherever she
might be.

Probably there has never been any one in Colorado Springs with so many
enforced absences and the same limitations of strength who has done as
much as she in enriching individual lives with friendship and the
community life with sympathy and generous material aid. Nothing that she
counted a duty sat lightly on her mind or conscience.

Miss Ellen T. Brinley, who was for many years a friend and neighbor of
Mrs. Bemis, wrote shortly after her death: "She was a real New Englander
of a type all too rare in these degenerate days. For many years she was
not very strong, and yet she was one of the least self-indulgent people
that ever lived. Wealth to her was not a reason for luxury and pleasure
seeking, but an opportunity for helping others--with a lack of
ostentation characteristic of her whole nature. She was truly a secret
helper. That the young should have their chance in life and that the
paths of the needy should be made more easy, became increasingly the
object of her life. Colorado College and the Young Women's Christian
Association were the two organizations in Colorado Springs whose welfare
she had most at heart, and for them she was constantly devising liberal
things. In the wakeful hours of the night, she planned to relieve the
sufferings of others, and her spirit of good will came from no weak
sentimentality. She was a woman of good judgment, an incisive mind, and
a strong character. She was a wonderfully loyal friend and her daily
life centred in her own family circle, in a few personal friendships,
and in the benevolence which was her avocation."

[Illustration]

Even her closest friends knew but little of her constant and quiet deeds
of kindness, and that rarely from her directly. It could never be said
of her that she was "confidential with her left hand." From the
recipients of her generosity more is known than could have been learned
from her. Often with an apology lest she might seem to intrude, she
learned if friends, and sometimes mere acquaintances and even strangers,
needed assistance at a time when she knew an emergency had come to them,
and often asked others to be the means of meeting such needs, not
letting it be known whence the help came. "Just tell them you have it to
give away," she would often say. Sometimes she gave to personal friends
a check, asking that they spend it as they thought best in ministering
to others.

This was done for many years to some who were in close touch with the
students of Colorado College. "Don't take the trouble to give an account
of this," she would say, "only be sure that it goes where it is really
needed." But when the account was rendered, she wanted to hear all that
could be told of the circumstances of each one who had been helped, and
often arranged that certain of these should have further assistance. To
a number this was voluntarily continued during their professional
studies. The following, from a letter to her son in 1908, shows her
sympathetic understanding of the students whom she helped:

"I wonder if I told you that the suit that you left here I gave to Mrs.
S---- for one of the college boys. The lining was greatly worn and so I
pinned on an envelope with $5.00 in it and she gave it to a very needy
fellow who is working and attending college. She had a letter from him
and from the mother. I am going to send her letter and some other
letters from other boys to whom the President has given a little from
time to time from a little that I gave him early in the winter. I want
you to read them, for I don't think that any of us realize how brave
these poor students are, and really they are the ones whom we hear of
later; the rich men's sons fall short in some way."

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Bemis was one of a group of women who, in the spring of 1889,
organized the Women's Education Society of Colorado College. The
resolutions passed by its executive board at the time of her death so
adequately express her relation to the Society that they are here quoted
in full:

"The Executive Board of the Women's Educational Society wishes to place
on record its sense of irreparable loss in the passing of Alice Cogswell
Bemis.

"Her association with the work of the Society has extended over a long
period of years, and her part in it has always been characterized by
fidelity to the purpose of the organization and keen discrimination in
the execution of the trust. She brought to the problems confronting the
Board rare insight and judgment, and her business acumen was
invaluable.

"Many students of Colorado College are personally indebted to her for
the removal of obstacles in the way of the successful prosecution of
their work in which her interest was vital and perennial. A story of
genuine need never failed to elicit her assistance. Of her general
constructive planning for the many-sided life of the young women, Bemis
Hall and Cogswell Theatre are enduring evidence.

"The Board has lost a useful member, her friends a wise counselor, and
philanthropic agencies a generous helper to whom worthy cause or person
never appealed in vain."

Another organization to which she contributed much pleasure and from
which she received the same is the Art Club of Colorado Springs. A group
of women whose personal relation to her was close and increasingly dear
as the years passed, formed its membership. They met twice a month at
each other's houses, read, and studied pictures, finding, as one says,
"an alleviation not unwelcome in that life where tuberculosis and the
gold fever of the early days alternately possessed the atmosphere." The
Art Club owed much of its genuine life to Mrs. Bemis; her interest in
art, her keenness to acquire and classify the knowledge that she loved,
was as strong as her friendship and neighborliness. The utmost
hospitality to invalid strangers was part and parcel of those Colorado
Springs early days, and in goodness to obscure invalids and in lending a
hand in hard times no one could tell the extent of her benefactions.

All that Mrs. Bemis did will never be known, and what she gave was never
told at the time unless it seemed best for obvious reasons that her
identification with a good movement should be made public. The
unsolicited gifts must have been manifold compared with those she gave
in response to appeals. It was always easy to approach her for any good
cause. If she gave, it was always with good will; if she declined to do
so, a distinct reason for the refusal was stated; and she was as careful
not to pauperize by giving as she was not to withhold where it was due,
and was entirely free from the bitterness common to a certain type of
persons who are wont to think that their generosity is being imposed
upon. She often afforded amusement to her friends by the way in which
she prefaced an offer of help with a seeming apology. She even seemed
at times to call those who were working in a good cause to account
because its pressing needs had not been met, and then met them herself.

A notable instance of this was her gift of the gymnasium to the Young
Women's Christian Association. When the present Association building was
erected she gave generously to the building fund. A gymnasium was
greatly needed then, but no money was available for it. A space was left
on the lot that had been purchased in the hope that a building might be
put there later. Very soon the growth of the work showed that no
gymnasium adequate even for the present demands could be built on that
limited space. The girls of the Association clamored for it and the
members of the board, who even more than they knew how much it was
needed, were heavy hearted. No one spoke of the situation to Mrs. Bemis
until she herself broached it to one of the board in a tone that, to one
who did not know her, might have seemed a reprimand. She prefaced what
was on her mind thus: "I do not approve at all of your putting up a
building on that small space. You ought to buy that lot to the north."
The board member could but agree. The protest was again made, and the
board member could only repeat her agreement, but knew from the manner
of approach to the subject that something was back in Mrs. Bemis's mind
that she would have to tell, though she wished it might be known without
her telling it! And then it came. She would like to see that lot when no
one would know that she was looking at it, and if it wasn't too much
trouble, could it be arranged for her to do this? It was planned that
she should go early one Sunday morning to the building, when very few
were in the lower rooms. She looked out on the vacant space and said,
"Don't you see _it will not do at all_?" Within twenty-four hours she
asked some one to negotiate for the purchase of the lot at the north and
gave it to the Association, adding a check that made possible the
present beautiful gymnasium. She dismissed with no mistaken emphasis the
proposal that this should bear her name. Her pleasure in the building
was great, and in expressing this pleasure she always seemed only to be
commending the Association for having it. Her part in it seemed nothing
to her. "Others have had to do all the work," she would say if her gift
was mentioned.

When Bemis Hall, the main residence for girls at Colorado College, was
being built, it was found that by excavating under the dining-room there
would be space for a theatre, in which the students could give plays and
various college meetings might be held. This was done, and the room was
named Cogswell Theatre in her honor. It must be admitted that the latter
was done under protest, although aided and abetted by some of her
family. "What would my ancestors say to having a theatre bear their
name!" she said, laughing. Among the memories of the past nine years to
those who have enjoyed that little theatre, none is happier than that of
seeing the faces of two very dear friends following each word and
movement on the stage, laughing at times till the tears came, and giving
over and over their entire approval of the existence of the theatre,
with no further protest against its name. These two friends rarely
missed seeing whatever was presented on that stage, though seldom
tempted by public entertainments to give up their quiet evenings at
home. Indeed, everything in that beautiful hall named for Mr.
Bemis--whose generosity, to the college is there made known only in
part--seemed to give them pleasure, and no one else will ever cross its
threshold who can receive just the kind of welcome they always found
awaiting them.

While the number of organizations which Mrs. Bemis helped is not known,
and it is impossible to mention those which for many years counted on
her interest and liberal support, one must be noted as showing her
abiding interest in all that related to her native town and the region
about it. This is the Ipswich Historical Society, which was organized in
1890, and of which she was the first life member. On its twenty-fifth
anniversary, in response to what was only a printed appeal, she sent the
first substantial gift of money it received. Within a few months of her
death, learning that a fireproof building for the Society had been
proposed, she wrote to Mr. T. Franklin Waters, its president, asking for
particulars of the plan under consideration, and on receipt of his reply
sent a check for so large a proportion of the estimated cost that she
was asked to consent to have the building named for her. Following a
determination made long before that her gifts should not be made
conspicuous in any way, she would not consent to this.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mrs. Bemis was as quick, open, and generous in her recognition of what
others did along philanthropic lines as she was reticent concerning her
own good deeds. This was especially noticeable in her attitude toward
all the private and public benefactions of her husband and children. Her
quiet satisfaction in these was beautiful to see. Her children received
all sympathy and encouragement in every good work they undertook, but
she never assumed the right to dictate in these matters or took any
credit to herself for anything they did, not thinking of the power of
her example and the life-long training she had given them.

Her recognition of all her husband's benefactions and her sympathy in
his planning for them were unfailing. One of the most important and far
reaching of these was in connection with a work along social lines in
the town of Bemis, Tennessee, where his firm had built a cotton mill.
From the inception of the town the need of this work was much in the
thought of their son, who has since succeeded his father as president
of their company, and whose practical interest in the betterment of all
social relations, especially of those between the employer and the
employed, is widely known. Together they carried out their ideals in the
new town of Bemis. The operators were those known in the south as poor
whites. The opening of the mill gave to these people an undreamed of
opportunity to earn money. It also offered to them a great privilege and
at the same time a possibility of great danger. The privilege was that
of being able for the first time in their lives to command money and to
use it so that it would make them better and happier; the danger was
that they might use it so that moral deterioration would follow. Both
these possibilities were foreseen in the first plans for the town, and
provision was made for the physical, mental, and spiritual needs of the
people that would as far as possible avert the danger. A social worker
was engaged to live as a friend among the people, and a church, school,
and library were provided for them. Mrs. Bemis had much pleasure in
following every step in the development of this work, while careful to
disclaim any credit for its success, again not thinking what her
encouragement and coöperation meant to both husband and son. But they
and all her children pay her full tribute for the stimulus of example
and for the sympathy shown in every good work to which they put their
hands.

       *       *       *       *       *

This woman of many noble traits was especially endowed with the rare
gift of loyal and understanding friendship. Her relation to kindred and
personal friends brought to her and to them an unusual degree of
happiness. This was so great a factor in her life that it may seem as if
special mention of many of these friends should be made in even so brief
a sketch as this. But they themselves will realize how impossible this
would be because the circle to which they belong is so large. She was
not blind to the failings of her friends, but was clear in her
comprehension of their fundamental traits, and her love for them, her
strong though often undemonstrative interest in them, never abated.
While she added to their number many times during her stay in different
places, no new friend or new interest ever took the place of an old one.
Her generous heart had room for all whom she took to it.

Her correspondence with friends was surprisingly large in view of the
frequency of her letters to her own immediate circle; when the family
became widely scattered this might easily have been made an excuse for
dropping much of the general correspondence, but instead of that it grew
as the circle of her interest widened. No one was neglected and all
letters were written with her own hand. During the last years of her
life much of her mail that was not personal became a distinct burden
with its increasing appeals from all directions, but she conscientiously
attended to it all herself. An abundance of good common sense helped her
to ignore many of these, but any that could not be laid aside lightly
she investigated in a way that took much time and strength.

Her outspoken nature and uncompromising mind often made her draw hard
and fast lines in no unmistakable way as to conduct that met her
approval or condemnation, but she asked no one to come up to any
standard higher than she had laid down for herself. She wanted above all
things to be just, and few people are so essentially just as she was. To
quote a friend, "her judgment of character was clear, just, and
vigorous."

One fixed habit of her mind must not be overlooked: this was
unwillingness to accept any help in whatever she could possibly do
herself. Many friends thought this a failing and frequently told her so.
They were wont to rebel against the fact that they could not serve her,
while she was a past master in the art of serving others. Her swift
motions and deft hands, impelled by her quick mind, would outwit half a
dozen people who were looking for means by which to circumvent her. No
amount of urging could lead her to agree to be waited upon if that could
be avoided, and she often refused to accept ministrations at times when
it seemed to others that they were necessary to her comfort. But even at
such times she would withhold no service for another. Whatever mention
the Recording Angel may make of this failing, it will be very brief
compared with what is written of the countless deeds of love and of
kindness for others with which she filled her days.

       *       *       *       *       *

Fortunately, many letters to the family and other friends have been
kept. They are singularly like her; never diffuse, but with that rare
and happy characteristic of telling concretely and clearly what was of
most interest to those to whom they were written, and never letting
irrelevant generalities take the place of matters of importance. In
reading these letters consecutively we are struck by the naïve and
unconscious way in which she reveals much of herself. They contain few
allusions to her own discomforts, but abound in sympathy for any that
have come to those to whom she is writing; they show how her happiness
never depended on anything that she might obtain for herself, while she
magnifies whatever others do for her. Social gatherings that brought old
friends and new together she enjoyed in a simple, whole-hearted way; she
cordially approved of fun and encouraged it by giving and taking it, but
never seemed to seek diversion. Her happiness came from what was close
at hand, especially in the simple every day gifts that are bestowed on
us all. Among her papers is found this "Line of Cheer:"

    "_I love the air of hill and sea
    That puts its crispness into me.
    I love the smiling of the sky
    That sets its twinkle in mine eye.
    I love the vigor of the gale
    That lends me strength where mine doth fail.
    I love the golden light of day
    That makes my jaded spirit gay.
    I love the dark of night whose guest
    I find myself when I would rest.
    And gratitude doth hold me thrall
    Unto 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 her
own, 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 a _birthday_ bell."

She does not hesitate to criticize herself, even to the point of placing
herself in a ridiculous light, 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 offered to 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 the gift 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 continuously wherever 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 connection with 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, and withal 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 behind her 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 revelations it 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 in the 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 far more 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.