He has not told me whether or no he did so. I asked
him to send them to the Mansion House in Salem. I wish you had rather
undertaken Latin, or French, or German, or indeed, almost any other
language, in which there would have been a more extensive and
attainable literature than in the Swedish. But if it turns out to
be a pleasure and improvement to yourself, the end is attained. You
will never, I fear (you see that I take a friend's privilege to speak
plainly), make the impression on the world that, in years gone by, I
used to hope you would. It will not be your fault, however, but the
fault of circumstances. Your flower was not destined to bloom in this
world. I hope to see its glory in the next.
I had much more to say, but it has escaped my memory just now, and it
is of no use trying to say any real thing in a letter. Hoping to see
you sooner or later,
Your friend ever,
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
Excuse this illegible scrawl; but I have contracted such a habit of
scrawling that I cannot possibly help it.
Mr. Pike was one of the half-earthy intelligences which are capable of
bloom, like a granite-strewn hill, revealing upon a closer glance
unexpected imagination. I once saw him coming through a little pine
grove near The Wayside with my father; it was after our return from
England. He was so short, sturdy, phlegmatic of exterior, and
plebeian, that I was astonished at my father's pleasure in his
company, until I noticed a certain gentleness in his manner of
stepping, and heard the modulations of his voice, and caught the
fragrance of his humility.
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