. . . I was
exceedingly sorry to find, from my son and daughter, that you could
not bring your young people to our haymaking on Wednesday. But they
consoled me with a promise, in your name, of bringing them another day
to spend the whole of it with us. I hold you to it; and if you fail,
or fail of prompt performance, I shall look upon you as faithless, and
mans worn to
Yours ever, G. P. R. JAMES.
Mrs. Hawthorne writes on:--
MY DEAREST LIZZIE,--What a sumptuous present, or budget of presents,
you are making me! I am affronted, if they come in the way of return
for the pitiful hospitality you received. You not only had no bed to
sleep on, and no room to sleep in, but nothing to eat, besides sewing
all the time, and washing your own clothes! I was very unhappy about
it all, but thought I would not add to the trouble by complaining, as
I did not see how I could remedy the matter. I never intend to have a
guest again for so long as father stayed, on Mr. Hawthorne's account.
It fairly destroys both his artistic and his domestic life. He has no
other life--never visiting, and having nothing to do with the public.
I do not know as any one but myself can estimate the cost to him of
having a stranger in our courts; especially in these narrow ones. A
week or so does very well; but months will not do at all. . . . You
know that he has but just stepped over the threshold of a hermitage.
He is but just not a hermit still.
Hawthorne responds to the substantial friendship of a lifelong
comrade:--
LENOX, July 24, 1851.
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