[Boston—Sunday, 12 October 1873]
Sunday Mr. Whittier came to breakfast. He was filled with solicitude for dear J. Was interested to ask after Mrs Leonowens whom he has never met. He was the same loving friendly soul as ever. He stayed till noon.
The girls were in ecstasies. He told me he was in the habit of writing whether people were about him or not; his life as an editor had taught him to make no difference—prose or poetry would out wherever he was sitting if his mind were possessed—the idea haunted him till he had put it down.
