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:"

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.