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less prepared than for the delightful taste and the elevated moral tone by which it is inspired.
I shall send you a newspaper with large extracts, which you must read, and in your mind reconstruct the whole,—as
Cuvier from a thigh-bone restored the mastodon of the age before the Flood.
He bears his honors very quietly, and descends without a sigh from the
Mount of Poesy to the painful routine of the office. . . .
I know that your nature, sensitive to all moral excellence, is too generous and candid to judge harshly another.
1 I hate vice, and will join in the strongest denunciations against it; but I shrink from judging a mortal like myself.
God bless every gentle soul!
Sept. 13.—Again my pen turns to you. This morning the ‘
Orpheus’ arrived in
Boston; and I have been wearying myself in attending to its transportation to the Athenaeum.
It is not yet opened.
Perhaps you will see it in
Rome as soon as the world here is able to enjoy it. It is a wonderful work of art; and you must honor the artist for such a production.
He already knows you as the friend of his friends, and I know will be glad to see you.
Felton is well, and his wife better than for two years. Evening before last I passed at his house, talking of
Plato, his philosophy, and the editions of his works.
It was towards ten o'clock; and I was about to walk to town.
I persuaded him (easy soul!) to walk with me all the way to enjoy some oysters at Concert Hall, and then to return on his weary footsteps.
At Craigie Castle the Longfellows dispense an easy and graceful hospitality,— always glad to enjoy the society of their friends at dinner or tea, as it may happen.
——has been sent to Dartmouth.
He had no means; and I went on 'Change, and assessed persons whom I met by chance till I had one hundred and twenty-five dollars,—which was all that was needed for the first year.
The boy could not contain himself for joy.
Lieber and I attended the monthly party of the blind at your sister's.
Sept. 14.—Mackenzie is here.
I like him very much.
He is a modest and unassuming man, with a countenance expressive of firmness and courage.
Any one who sees him must believe in his complete justification.
I took him to
Longfellow's yesterday; they were old companions in
Spain. . . . Where will this find you?
Far away in
Rome, or perhaps climbing the
Alps?
Your letters will be my winter's solace.
God bless you, your wife, and the gentle A.!
C. S.
