What do you think of California? Good climate, but lots of blacklegs. I think a villa among the Euganean Hills would be as good as anything. But it requires a coal-hod of tin to make it work. income was about $20,000 a year. Affectionately yours,

Byron's

W. E. C.

-As there was no immediate prospect of realizing the Gulf of Spezzia, or even California, Hawthorne finally decided to buy Mr. Alcott's house in Concord, together with the twenty acres or thereabouts of arable and wooded land belonging to it. But he wisely waited until June before entering on possession of it; for there are days in that month when the climate of Concord seems almost as Paradisiacal as that of Malaga or the Euganean Hills.

CHAPTER IX.

CONCORD.

WHEN Hawthorne went to Lenox, after Madame Hawthorne's death, the household in Mall Street was, of course, broken up; and his two sisters, Elizabeth and Louisa, were established, the latter with her relatives in Salem, the former in lodgings in a farmer's family on the sea-coast not far from Salem, where she lived, in perfect contentment, for more than thirty years, a life the solitude of which would have killed most women in as many days. Beyond the members of the farmer's family (who could be her associates only in the most literal sense) she very seldom saw or communicated with any one. She got up at noon every day, walked or read till two in the morning, and then all was darkness and silence till noon again. Her health was always perfect, both of mind and body; and she not only kept abreast of all that was going on in the great world, but was to the end of her life a keen and sagacious critic of American and European public men and politics. I mention this because, from the purely intellectual point of view, she bore a very striking resemblance to her brother; and this resemblance will be made to appear more fully in a subsequent portion of the present work.

Before Hawthorne left Berkshire, his sister Louisa had spoken of Elizabeth in the letter which follows:

SALEM, August, 1850.

DEAR SOPHIA,... Elizabeth is very pleasantly situated in Manchester. We searched the country round for her, but did not find just the right place till five or six weeks ago. She has a large room, with a good bathing-room, and a very large closet all to herself; two of her windows look to the ocean, and one to a wooded hill. It is very retired, and but a short distance to the beach. They are good and kind people, and the living is very good. You seem in great admiration at Elizabeth's sitting at the table with the family, and ascribe it to Mrs. Dike's persuasion. But it was not even necessary to request it; Elizabeth did it as a matter of course. What should you say to see her go to church? She actually did go several times while she was here. I was afraid she would forget herself and speak in meeting, but she only made up a face at me when I looked at her.

I suppose you know that Mr. Upham is nominated for Congress in the place of Mr. King. The papers are full of his praises, and speak of his public services and private virtues as if such things were! I suppose he will be elected. Give my love to Nathaniel. If he only did know how I want to see him, but it is not to be told how much! How does he look now? I suppose the children are tanned brown: how does it become them? Do you think you shall

come to Boston in the autumn? I want to hear from you exceedingly, and hope you will find or make time to write to me very soon. Good-by.

Yours ever,

M. L. HAWTHORNE

And Elizabeth herself wrote, some time afterwards:

MONTSERRAT, May 3.

DEAR BROTHER, - Your letter gave me an unexpected pleasure, for I really had but little hope of ever hearing from you again. I wish I could see the children, especially Una; I cannot bear the idea of their ceasing to be children before I see them. Why cannot you bring Una with you? I thank you for your invitation, but I do not like to go further from home than I can walk.

I have read "The House of the Seven Gables," as everybody else has, with great delight. People who abjure, upon principle, all other works of fiction, make an exception of yours. I cannot tell whether I prefer it to "The Scarlet Letter," and there is no need of drawing a comparison. The chapter entitled "Governor Pyncheon" seems to me unequalled, in its way, by anything I can remember; and little Pearl,' too, is unique, — perfectly natural, but unlike any other child, unless it be Una. Louisa says that Judge Pyncheon is supposed to be Mr. Upham. I do not know Mr. Upham, but I imagined him to be a much more insignificant person, - less weighty in every sense. There may be some points of resem

blance, such as the warm smiles, and the incident of the daguerreotype bringing out the evil traits of his character, and his boasts of the great influence he had exerted for Clifford's release. The greatest charm of both books, for me, is the perfect ease and freedom with which they seem to be written; it is evident that you stand in no awe of the public, but rather bid it defiance, which it is well for all authors, and all other men, to do.

I stayed in Manchester from July to November, at a place called Kettle Cove. It is a spot of peculiar characteristics. Few people are born there, and few die; and they enjoy uninterrupted health. The very old go off from a sense of propriety, to make room for those who have a right to their places. They are more susceptible of enjoyment than any people I have ever met with; they wander about in the woods, and pick berries, and fish, and congregate together to eat chowders in the open air, on the grass, old men and women seventy and eighty years of age, and those of all intermediate ages down to two or three. I never knew before how much beauty and variety a mist, brightened by sunshine, can impart to a landscape. The hills and the houses at a distance look as if they were based on air. There is a house in the Cove which I think would have suited you; you certainly must have been happier near the sea. I would never go out of the sound of its roar if I could help it.

There are many advantages in my present position at Montserrat. I can lose myself in the woods by