Writings by Susan Dickinson

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over the grounds in the sun shine, without hats or wraps, stopping constant-
ly to pick the wildflowers in the grass, and wonder at the day. I remember
Mrs. Burnett, was quite buried under the Knots, of wild violets and housa-
to nasneas, gathered for her. When we were by ourselves afterward, she spoke to
me fondly and freely of her boys. I can speak here without indelicacy, of
her story of one of them, I think of Lionel, who was leaning on her dressing
table, as she put on a decollte gown, to attend an evening reception in
Washington, After seeing her robed, he exclaimed "Dear Mamma, arent you going
put something over the skin of your stomach!! Blessed little reformer, how
much better he preached than we knew. They drove away in the fading after-
noon, leaving a very agreeable impression, which has grown into a cherished
memory. This little visit of course, heightened our interest in her lite-
rary success, as well as added to the sincerity of the sympathy for the irreparable
loss, in the death of her son. As I went out the next day I found the news of
the visit had reached the ears of our friends, who upbraided me sharply for
my selfishness in keeping so famous a woman to myself; Admiral Green, our neighbor,
loudest of all in his reproaches. It was a bit of thoughtlessness on my
part which I regretted extremely as an informal reception would have given
great pleasure to her many admiring friends in town.

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Writings by Susan Dickinson Main Page
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Transcription and commentary copyright 1998 by Martha Nell Smith,
Laura Elyn Lauth, and Lara Vetter, all rights reserved
Maintained by Rebecca Mooney  <rnmooney@umd.edu>
Last updated on January 23, 2008

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