But ever and anon I am made
quite humble by being helped out of thick forests by my knight,
instead of guiding him. So we teach each other in the most charming
manner, and I call it the royal road to knowledge, finally discovered
by us. Mr. Hawthorne writes all the morning. Do you see "The
Democratic Review"? In the March number is "The Procession of Life."
Mr. Jonathan Phillips told Elizabeth he thought it a great production,
and immediately undertook to read all else my husband had written.
"The Celestial Railroad," for the April number, is unique, and of deep
significance. It is a rare privilege to hear him read his manuscript
aloud with the true expression.
Elizabeth Hoar has taken tea with us only once this winter, and I have
seen her very rarely. The walking is so bad in the country in winter
that only tall boots can cope with it. Unawares one foot sinks down to
the Celestial Empire, and the other anchors in the moon. I have had to
confine myself principally to the avenue, through which our
Flibbertigibbet [or Imp] made a clear path for me. Mr. Thoreau has
been pretty often, and is very interesting. Mr. Emerson, from January,
was at the South; so Sirius was not visible to the eye for nearly
three months.
Among other things, I have been very much interested in teaching my
Irish angel to read and write. She is as bright as Burke, and repays
me an hundredfold by her progress. She is so sweet and generous and
gentle, that it is pleasant to happen upon her pretty face about the
house.
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