Elizabeth [who was then teaching school in Boston] depends upon the
pleasure of seeing him when she comes. We dine as early as twelve on
Sunday. Yours very truly,

MARY T. PEABODY.


From this point, the letters and fragments of journals bring to view
what Hawthorne saw, and make real to us the woman he soon loved.


SALEM, October 22, 1832.

I have been in old native Salem for ten days. Betty and I returned by
seven o'clock to our minimum of a house, and upon entering I really
felt a slight want of breath to find the walls so near together and
the ceiling nearly upon my head. But there stood my beloved mother,
all in white, her face radiant with welcome and love, and in her arms
there was no want of room. In September or October I live _par
excellence_. I feel in the abstract just as an autumn leaf _looks_. I
step abroad from my clay house, and become a part of the splendor and
claritude and vigor around.

DEAR BETTY,--I forgot to tell you that mother's garden has been
arranged. She is quite happy in it. Father presided over a man as he
uprooted and planted. The man was quite an original. He came looking
very nice, very gentlemanly, in broadcloth and cambric cravat. But
after disappearing into the barn for several minutes, he came forth
transformed into a dirty workman, though still somewhat distinguished
by his figure and air. He expressed himself in very courtly phrase,