August 22d.--. . . . I had an indispensable engagement in the bean-field,
whither, indeed, I was glad to betake myself, in order to escape a
parting scene with ------. He was quite out of his wits the night
before, and I sat up with him till long past midnight. The farm is
pleasanter now that he is gone; for his unappeasable wretchedness threw a
gloom over everything. Since I last wrote, we have done haying, and the
remainder of my bondage will probably be light. It will be a long time,
however, before I shall know how to make a good use of leisure, either as
regards enjoyment or literary occupation. . . . .

It is extremely doubtful whether Mr. Ripley will succeed in locating his
community on this farm. He can bring Mr. E------ to no terms, and the
more they talk about the matter, the further they appear to be from a
settlement. We must form other plans for ourselves; for I can see few or
no signs that Providence purposes to give us a home here. I am weary,
weary, thrice weary, of waiting so many ages. Whatever may be my gifts,
I have not hitherto shown a single one that may avail to gather gold. I
confess that I have strong hopes of good from this arrangement with
M------; but when I look at the scanty avails of my past literary
efforts, I do not feel authorized to expect much from the future. Well,
we shall see. Other persons have bought large estates and built splendid
mansions with such little books as I mean to write; so that perhaps it is
not unreasonable to hope that mine may enable me to build a little
cottage, or, at least, to buy or hire one. But I am becoming more and
more convinced that we must not lean upon this community. Whatever is to
be done must be done by my own undivided strength. I shall not remain
here through the winter, unless with an absolute certainty that there
will be a house ready for us in the spring. Otherwise, I shall return to
Boston;--still, however, considering myself an associate of the
community, so that we may take advantage of any more favorable aspect of