Hoping you will write soon, my love to all.--ISAAC."

The next letter, though addressed to his brothers, was apparently
intended for the whole family, and begins with more than Isaac's
customary abruptness:

"Chelsea, December 28, 1842.--I will open my mind so that you can
have the materials to judge from as well as myself. I feel unable to
the task of judging alone correctly. I have given an account of my
state of mind in my former letter, but will add that what is there
said describes a permanent state, not a momentary excitement. You may
think that in a little time this would pass away, and I would be able
to resume my former life; or, at least, you could so adapt things at
home that although I should not precisely occupy myself as then,
still it might be so arranged as to give me that which I feel
necessary in order to live somewhat contented.

"I am sorry to say I can in no way conceive such an arrangement of
things at home. Why? I hate to say it, yet we might as well come to
an understanding. I have grown out of the life which can be received
through the accustomed channels of the circle that was around me. I
am subject to thoughts and feelings which the others had no interest
in; hence they could not be expressed. There can be no need to tell
you this--you all must have seen it. How can I stop my life from
flowing on? You must see the case I stand in. Do not think I have
less of the feelings of a brother and a son. My heart never was
closer, not so close as it is now to yours. . . .

"Do not think this is imagination; in this I have had too much
experience. The life that was in me had none to commune with, and I
felt it was consuming me. I tried to express this in different ways
obscurely, but it appeared singular and no one understood me. This
was the cause of my wishing to go away, hoping I would either get
clear of it or something might turn up, I knew not what. One course
was advised by the doctor, and you all thought as he did--that was to
keep company with the intention of getting married. This was not the
communion that I wanted or that was congenial to my life. Marrying
would not, I am convinced, have had any permanent effect. It was not
that which controlled me, then or now. It is altogether different; it
is a life in me which requires altogether different circumstances to
live it. This is no dream; or, if it is, then have I never had such
reality. . . .

"When I wrote last it struck me I might se