about England, and observed, among other things, that "the extent over
which her dominions are spread leads her to fancy herself stronger than
she really is; but she is not to-day a powerful empire; she is much like
a squash-vine, which runs over a whole garden, but, if you cut it at the
root, it is at once destroyed." At breakfast, next morning, he spoke of
his kind neighbors in Concord, and said Alcott was one of the most
excellent men he had ever known. "It is impossible to quarrel with him,
for he would take all your harsh words like a saint."

He left us shortly after this for a journey to Washington, with his
friend Mr. Ticknor. The travellers spent several days in New York, and
then proceeded to Philadelphia. Hawthorne wrote to me from the
Continental Hotel, dating his letter "Saturday evening," announcing the
severe illness of his companion. He did not seem to anticipate a fatal
result, but on Sunday morning the news came that Mr. Ticknor was dead.
Hawthorne returned at once to Boston, and stayed here over night. He was
in a very excited and nervous state, and talked incessantly of the sad
scenes he had just been passing through. We sat late together,
conversing of the friend we had lost, and I am sure he hardly closed his
eyes that night. In the morning he went back to his own home in Concord.

His health, from that time, seemed to give way rapidly, and in the
middle of May his friend, General Pierce, proposed that they should go
among the New Hampshire hills together and meet the spring there.

The first letter we received from Mrs. Hawthorne[*] after her husband's
return to Concord in April gave us great anxiety. It was dated "Monday
eve," and here are some extracts from it:--

"I have just sent Mr. Hawthorne to bed, and so have a moment to