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Burnt Apples

was, I must confess, very much relished, for exercise gives a good appetite, thou knowest. I then set my beans to boil whilst I dusted, and was upstairs waiting, ready dressed, for the sound of the "Echo's" piston. Soon I heard it, and blew my whistle, which was not responded to, and I began to fear my Theodore was not on board. But I blew again, and the glad response came merrily over the water, and I thought I saw him. In a little while he came, and gave me all your parting messages. On Second Day the weather was almost cold, and we were glad to take a run at noon up the Palisades and sun ourselves on the rock at the first opening. Returning, we gathered some field beans, and some apples for stewing, as our fruit was nearly out. In the evening it was so cool that we thought a fire would be more comfortable, so we sat in the kitchen, paring apples, shelling beans, and talking over the Bible argument [against slavery]; and, as we had a fire, I thought we had better stew the apples at once. This was done to save time the next day, but I burnt them sadly. However, thou knowest they were just as nice to our Theodore, who never complains of anything. Third Day evening we took a walk up the Palisades. The moon shone most beautifully, throwing her mantle of light all abroad over the blue arch of heaven, the gently flowing river, and the woods and vales around us. I could not help thinking, if earth was so lovely and bright, what must be the glories of that upper Temple which needeth not the light of the sun or of the moon. O sister, shall we ever wash our robes so white in the blood of the Lamb as to be clean enough to enter that pure and holy Temple of the Most High? We returned to our dear little home, and went to bed by the lamp of heaven; for we needed no other, so brightly did she shine through our windows. We remembered thee, dear

sister, in our little seasons of prayer at the opening and closing of each day. We pray the Lord to bring thee back to us in the fulness of the blessing of the Gospel of peace, and to make our house a home to thy weary, tossed, afflicted spirit. We feel it a great blessing to have thee under our roof. Thy room looks very desolate ; for, though the sun shines brightly in it, I find, after all, thou art the light of it. . . .

The "delectable way of life" at Brook Farm (To Louisa Hawthorne)

As

BROOK FARM, WEST ROXBURY, May 3, 1841

S the weather precludes all possibility of ploughing, hoeing, sowing, and other such operations, I bethink me that you may have no objections to hear something of my whereabout and whatabout. You are to know, then, that I took up my abode here on the 12th ultimo, in the midst of a snow-storm, which kept us all idle for a day or two. At the first glimpse of fair weather, Mr. Ripley summoned us into the cow-yard, and introduced me to an instrument with four prongs, commonly entitled a dung-fork. With this tool I have already assisted to load twenty or thirty carts of manure, and shall take part in loading nearly three hundred more. Besides, I have planted potatoes and pease, cut straw and hay for the cattle, and done various other mighty works. This very morning I milked three cows, and I milk two or three every night and morning. The weather has been so unfavorable that we have worked comparatively little in the fields; but, nevertheless, I have gained strength wonderfully, -grown quite a giant, in fact, — and can do a day's work without the slightest inconvenience. In short, I am transformed into a complete farmer.

Transcendental Farming

This is one of the most beautiful places I ever saw in my life, and as secluded as if it were a hundred miles from any city or village. There are woods, in which we can ramble all day without meeting anybody or scarcely seeing a 'house. Our house stands apart from the main road, so that we are not troubled even with passengers looking at us. Once in a while we have a transcendental visitor, such as Mr. Alcott; but generally we pass whole days without seeing a single face, save those of the brethren. The whole fraternity eat together; and such a delectable way of life has never been seen on earth since the days of the early Christians. We get up at half-past four, breakfast at half-past six, dine at half-past twelve, and go to bed at nine.

The thin frock which you made for me is considered a most splendid article, and I should not wonder if it were to become the summer uniform of the Community. I have a thick frock, likewise; but it is rather deficient in grace, though extremely warm and comfortable. I wear a tremendous pair of cowhide boots, with soles two inches thick, - of course, when I come to see you I shall wear my farmer's dress.

I would write more, but William Allen is going to the village, and must have this letter, so good-by. NATH. HAWTHORNE, Ploughman.

Mr. Hawthorne gets breakfast

(Mrs. Hawthorne to her mother, from the Manse,

Concord)

December 27, 1843

WE

VE had a most enchanting time during Mary the cook's holiday sojourn in Boston. We remained

in our bower undisturbed by mortal creature.

Mr. Haw

thorne took the new phasis of housekeeper, and, with that marvellous power of adaptation to circumstances that he possesses, made everything go easily and well. He rose betimes in the mornings, and kindled fires in the kitchen and breakfast-room, and by the time I came down, the tea-kettle boiled, and potatoes were baked and rice cooked, and my lord sat with a book, superintending. Just imagine that superb head peeping at the rice or examining the potatoes with the air and port of a monarch! And that angelico riso on his face, lifting him clean out of culinary scenes into the arc of the gods. It was a magnificent comedy to watch him, so ready and willing to do these things to save me an effort, and at the same time so superior to it all, and heroical in aspect, - so unconsonant to what was about him. I have a new sense of his universal power from this novel phasis of his life. It seems as if there were no side of action to which he is not equal, at home among the stars, and, for my sake, patient and effective over a cooking-stove.

Our breakfast was late, because we concluded to have only breakfast and dinner. After breakfast, I put the beloved study into very nice order, and, after establishing him in it, proceeded to make smooth all things below. When I had come to the end of my labors, my dear lord insisted on my sitting with him; so I sat by him and sewed, while he wrote, with now and then a little discourse; and this was very enchanting. At about one, we walked to the village; after three, we dined. On Christmas day we had a truly Paradisiacal dinner of preserved quince and apple, dates, and bread and cheese, and milk. The washing of dishes took place in the mornings; so we had our beautiful long evenings from four o'clock to ten.

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Little Una Sleeps

rs. Hawthorne tells her mother that the baby sleeps and smiles

April 4, 1844

[Y DEAREST MOTHER,- I have no time,— as you may imagine. I am baby's tire-woman, handmaiden, d tender, as well as nursing mother. My husband reves me with her constantly, and gets her to sleep beautily. I look upon him with wonder and admiration. He with me all the time when he is not writing or exercisg. I do not think I shall have any guests this spring d summer, for I cannot leave Baby a minute to enact stess; it is a sweet duty that must take precedence of others.

Wednesday Dearest mother, little Una sleeps.

Thursday — Dearest mother, yesterday little Una waked o, and I had to go to her. But she sleeps again s morning. She smiles and smiles and smiles, and ■kes grave remarks in a dovelike voice. Her eye

hes are longer every morning, and bid fair to be, as ornelia said Mr Hawthorne's were, "a mile long and rled up at the end." Her mouth is sweetly curved, and, Mary the cook prettily says, "it has so many lovely rs in it." Her hands and fingers-ye stars and gods!

spite of the heat, George William Curtis succeeds in writing poetry

(To John S. Dwight)

CONCORD, June 26th, 1844

HESE are Tophetic times. I doubt if the sturdy faith of those heroes, Shadrach and co., would carry em through this fervor unliquefied. Their much vaunted

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