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Updated: June 29, 2025
And from its protection he deduces the lesson: He who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone Will lead my steps aright. And so Celia Thaxter sang of the sandpiper: He has no thought of any wrong, He scans me with a fearless eye.
Thaxter tells me that he has made his own way in the world, was once a sailor before the mast, and is now engaged in mercantile pursuits. He looks like nothing of this kind, being tall and slender, with very quiet manners, not beautiful, though pleasing from the refinement that they indicate. He has rather a precise and careful pronunciation, but yet a natural way of talking.
Nevertheless, the idleness of it all palled upon him. It was Sunday, too, and he longed for something which would move us to "higher levels." Suddenly, as if the idea struck him like an inspiration, he rose, and taking a volume of Emerson from the little library he opened to one of the discourses, and handing it to Celia Thaxter said: "Read that aloud, will thee?
Hawthorne seems to have found a kindred spirit in Mr. Thaxter, who invited him to their cottage to meet the ladies and drink apple-jack. There he also found John Weiss, a man of wit and genius little inferior to his own. Neither did Celia Thaxter impress him, except in a rather external way. He says, "We found Mrs. Thaxter sitting in a neat little parlor, very simply furnished, but in good taste.
What a scene it was for an historical picture, when the brave old minister, the Reverend Joseph Thaxter, who was chaplain of Colonel Prescott's regiment, rose to offer prayer and to give the benediction! As his feeble voice was lifted to ask for the blessing of God, it did not seem possible that fifty years before, on the same spot, this man had stood and prayed for the patriot cause.
If I knew my own hart, every one of us there, both grate and small had an impulse flowin in his boosum, "and consequentially," I added, we "will stick to it similar and in accordance therewith, as long as a spark of manhood, or the peple at large. That's the kind of man I be!" Squire Thaxter interrupted me.
Partington," and to him Barnum years later wrote to find out the author of this effusion. Mr. Shillaber replied as follows: CHELSEA, April 25th, 1868. MY DEAR MR. BARNUM: The poem in question was written by A. Wallace Thaxter, associate editor with Mr. Clapp and myself, on the Gazette since deceased, a glorious fellow who wrote th poem from a sincere feeling of admiration for yourself. Mr.
One cold, foggy evening in August, 1868, we were gathered in the parlor of the Thaxter cottage, when some one proposed that we should make an experiment with planchette. So the little triangular board was produced, with a long pencil in the apex, and a large sheet of brown paper. Mrs. Thaxter placed her left hand on it, and Mrs.
H. entreated his wife to desist, but she paid no attention to him. The whole performance lasted nearly half an hour, and when it was over, Mrs. Thaxter said, "They are all answers to questions which I asked of my father," and remained very grave and quiet during the rest of the evening.
Thaxter, roaming about on the water, visiting different islands, and conversing with the inhabitants. It must have been a rare occasion for young Thaxter, and Hawthorne for once found a companion who could either be silent or talk in an interesting manner. Hawthorne's account of it would suffice as a guide-book for the Shoals.
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