Mr. Hawthorne, says I must tell you that he shall be most happy to
meet you in heaven; but he wishes you would as a preliminary come and
spend a week with us this summer. He says this is the best way to get
acquainted with him.
To Mrs. Peabody, now living in Boston, Sophia writes:--
May.
DARLING MOTHER,--I find my heart cannot rest unless I send you an
enormous bunch of columbines; and so I have concluded to take my
cake-box and fill it with flowers. My husband and I have gathered all
these columbines since dinner, on the bank of the river, two fields
off from the battle-ground. Now I think of it, it is Lizzie's favorite
wildflower. I cannot bear to think of you as two prisoners in the
book-room, at this time. I do not know, however, as Elizabeth would be
happy to remain in the country, because men and women are her flowers,
and they do not grow on hills and slopes. But you were born to live in
a garden, where flowers at your tendance might gladlier grow
(according to Milton). We had a letter from Louisa Hawthorne to-day,
which says that the cat Beelzebub is dead. We are going to put our
Pigwiggin in mourning for her cousin. [Hawthorne was, as all his
family were, remarkably fond of cats. He had given Beelzebub his
name.]
Another letter now goes to Mrs. Foote:--
August 11.
BELOVED MARY,--I received your long expected letter during a visit
from the Hillards. I feared you were ill, but not that you had
forgotten me; for I have an imperturbable faith in the love of my
friends which appearances cannot affect.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71