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Lathrop, Rose Hawthorne, 1851-1926

"Memories of Hawthorne"


She shouted at this; and then threw back her head, with a' silent
laugh, like Leatherstocking, showing all her little pearly teeth,--so
pretty with her rosy cheeks and streaming hair. I actually seem in a
dream, and not here in bodily presence. I cannot imagine myself here;
much less realize it. Through the mist Douglas looked like a vast
leviathan asleep on the sea, as we approached. It is a pity that steam
should come near such a place, for its bustle is not in harmony with
the vast repose.
I suppose the world could scarcely furnish another such stately and
salubrious spot as exactly this; for the climate of the Isle of Man is
extremely mild and genial. From my parlor windows, in the Fort Anne
Hotel, I look out on the beautiful crescent harbor from a good height.
. . . Mountains rise above high hills on the horizon in soft, large,
mellow lines, which I am never weary of gazing at. The hills are of
precious emerald stone; the sea is an opal; the distant mountains are
a pile of topazes; and the sky is turquoise and gold. But why attempt
to put into ink such a magnificent setting as this? No jewels could be
compared to it. God alone could mingle these colors and pencil these
grand lines. . . .
ROCK PARK, August 2.
DEAR ELIZABETH,--We returned last Saturday, after a delightful visit
to Mona of a fortnight. We had constantly splendid weather, and there
was one day which Mr. Hawthorne and I concluded we had never seen
equaled in any hemisphere.


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