[Manchester—Monday, 17 August 1874]

Monday 17th. Dear J. has gone to Boston. I was sitting alone reading Goethe’s Autobiography (wh. is nearly ended) when who should I see pass the window but Longfellow and his daughter Edith. They were looking for us. They bore their disappointment at not finding J. very well. I carried them to see Thunderbolt Hill and on the way dear Longfellow repeated to me a new poem he has written for the book of poems relating to places in Europe—it is a vision of Caddennabbia and is very simple and lovely. He thought our place most beautiful—as indeed it is.

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