Mr. A. and Mr. B. -- and at night
digging into parchment-covered books, a dryer and barrener
soil than any near Wut-a-qut-o or on the old mountain itself,
and which must nevertheless be digged into for certain dry and
musty fruits of knowledge to be fetched out of them. I am too
busy to get the blues, but when I go out to take an exercise
walk now and then at dusk or dawn, I do wish I could transport
myself to the neighbourhood of that same mountain, and handle
the axe till I had filled mother's fireplace, or take a turn
in the barn at father's wheat or flax. I should accomplish a
good deal before you were up; but I wouldn't go away without
looking in at you.

"I am in the same house where Rufus lived when he was in
Mannahatta, with his friend Mr. Inchbald; and a kinder friend
I do not wish for. He is an Englishman -- a fine-looking and
fine-hearted fellow -- ready to do everything for me, and
putting me upon terms almost too easy for my comfort. He is a
miniature painter, by profession, but I fear does not make
much of a living. That does not hinder his being as generous
as if he had thousands to dispose of. His heart does not take
counsel with his purse, nor with anything but his heart. He
lives with a widowed sister who keeps his house; and she is as
kind in her way as he is in his, though the ways are
different. I am as much at home here as I can be. I have
Rufus's old room; it is a very pleasant one, and if there is
not much furniture, neither do I want much. It holds my bed
and my books; and my wardrobe at present does not require very
extensive accommodations; and when I am in the middle of one
of those said parchment-covered tomes, it signifies very
little indeed what is outside of them or of me, at the moment.
So you may think of me as having all I desire, so far as I
myself am concerned; for my license and my use of it, must be
worked and waited for. I shall not be a _great_ lawyer, dear
Winnie, under three years at least.

"For you all, I desire so much that my heart almost shuts up
its store and says nothing. So much that for a long time, it
may be, I can have no means of helping you to enjoy. Dear
father and mother, I hope I have not on the whole lessened
your means of enjoyment by striking out this path for myself.
I trust it will in the end be found to be the best for us all.
I have acted under the pressure of an impulse that seemed
strong as life. I _could_ do no other than as I have done. Yet I
c