May God bless and keep you all.
YOUR MOTHER.
August 1.
MY DEAREST MOTHER,--I was more troubled at the hindrance Mr. Hawthorne
suffered by our being without help a fortnight than by anything else,
because he would not let me bear any weight of care or labor, but
insisted upon doing everything himself. Yet he says that he cannot
write deeply during midsummer, at any rate. He can only seize the
skirts of ideas and pin them down for further investigation. Besides,
he has not recovered his pristine vigor. The year ending in June was
the trying year of his life, as well as of mine [on account of
political calumny]. I have not yet found again all my wings; neither
is his tread yet again elastic. But the ministrations of nature will
have their effect in due time. Mr. Hawthorne thinks it is Salem which
he is dragging at his ankles still. . . . Yes, we find kindest friends
on every side. The truest friendliness is the great characteristic of
the Sedgwick family in all its branches. They seem to delight to make
happy, and they are as happy as summer days themselves. They really
take the responsibility of my being comfortable, as if they were
mother, father, brother, sister. We have fallen into the arms of
loving-kindness, and cannot suffer for any aid or support in
emergencies. This I know will give you a reposeful content concerning
us. Mr. Tappan is a horn of benefits. He seems to have the sweetest
disposition; and his shy, dark eyes are always gleaming with
hospitable smiles for us.
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