[Boston—Tuesday, 30 April 1867]

Tuesday. Mrs Hawthorne leaves this afternoon. I think she will feel rested by her visit. She wears ineffable sweetness and peace about her and is rare as mountain air and more unique than a precious Indian shell. Such unmingled unmeasured love and worship as she gives her friends is wondrous to possess and to behold.

She has gone out without me today, for I have taken cold and am stupid as well as weary so I have been reading Margaret Fuller’s life and wondering over her capital descriptions of persons, among others of R.H. Dana Senior.


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