The 'Whale' is only half through the press; for, wearied with the
long delays of the printers, and disgusted with the heat and dust
of the Babylonish brick-kiln of New York, I came back to the
country to feel the grass, and end the book reclining on it, if I
may.'

Mr. Hawthorne, who was then living in the red cottage at Lenox,
had a week at Arrow Head with his daughter Una the previous
spring. It is recorded that the friends 'spent most of the time
in the barn, bathing in the early spring sunshine, which streamed
through the open doors, and talking philosophy.' According to
Mr. J. E. A. Smith's volume on the Berkshire Hills, these
gentlemen, both reserved in nature, though near neighbours and
often in the same company, were inclined to be shy of each other,
partly, perhaps, through the knowledge that Melville had written
a very appreciative review of 'Mosses from an Old Manse' for the
New York Literary World, edited by their mutual friends, the
Duyckincks. 'But one day,' writes Mr. Smith, 'it chanced that
when they were out on a picnic excursion, the two were compelled
by a thundershower to take shelter in a narrow recess of the
rocks of Monument Mountain. Two hours of this enforced
intercourse settled the matter. They learned so much of each
other's character, . . . that the most intimate friendship for
the future was inevitable.' A passage in Hawthorne's 'Wonder
Book' is noteworthy as describing the number of literary
neighbours in Berkshire:--

'For my part, I wish I had Pegasus here at this moment,' said the
student. 'I would mount him forthwith, and gallop about the
country within a circumference of a few miles, making literary