No influenzas or epidemics of any kind reach our old abbey, though in
the village of Concord they often prevail. I think the angel who
descended with healing in his wings, and stirred the pool of Bethesda,
must purify the air around us. We have had a charming summer. At the
first flinging open of our doors my father made us a visit of a week,
and, according to his love of order, put everything out of doors in
place; moved patriarchal boards covered with venerable moss, and
vividly exercised all his mechanical powers. Among other things he
prepared the clay with which I mould men and heroes, so that I began
Mr. Hawthorne's bust. Next came Miss Anna Shaw [Mrs. S. G. Ward], in
full glory of her golden curls, flowing free over her neck and brows,
so that she looked like the goddess Diana, or Aurora. Everything
happened just right. The day she arrived, Mr. Emerson came to dine,
and shone back to the shining Anna. He was truly "tangled in the
meshes of her golden hair," for he reported in several places how
beautiful it was, afterwards. It was very warm, and after Mr. Emerson
left us, we went out upon the lawn under the shady trees, and Anna
extended herself on the grass, leaning her arms upon a low cricket,
and "Sydnian showers of sweet discourse" distilled upon us. Towards
sunset we went to the terrace on the bank of the river, and then there
was a walk to Sleepy Hollow. Afterwards, we again resorted to the
lawn, and the stars all came out over our heads with great brilliancy;
and Anna, again upon the grass, pointed out the most beautiful
constellations.
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