[Boston—Tuesday, 8 December 1868]

Dec. 8. Reading Auerbach’s story “Auf der Höhe” in German. It is a lovely story: full of “sweetness & light.” I know few to compare with it in beauty, glamour and purposefulness. I only wish I knew German better. My conscience gets in my way horribly and makes me look out wards. My better sense often shows this to be folly. The truth is I am too inaccurate to dare trust myself always. How hard it is to be accurate.

We did not go to hear Mr. James last night but stayed at home to hear the wind roar and the rain come down wondrously and then to bed and wakefulness and dreams.

Marvellous sunlight this morning but before noon came a whirling snow-storm and with all this glory, this love, this peace, I have not sung one note for many days.


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