Perhaps, however, you are only making believe and will take us by
surprise. So I shall keep your place for you.

"This is not to be the end of all things. I mean to begin again in
September with the dubious and difficult passages; and if you are not
in too much of a hurry to publish, there is still a long vista of
pleasant evenings stretching out before us. We can pull them out like
a spyglass. I am shutting up now to recommence the operation."

In December of the same year he wrote:--

"The first meeting of the Dante Club Redivivus is on Wednesday next.
Come and be bored. Please not to mention the subject to any one yet
awhile, as we are going to be very quiet about it."

"_January_, 1867.--Dante Club at Longfellow's again. They are
revising the whole book with the minutest care. Lowell's accuracy is
surprising and of great value to the work; also Norton's criticisms.
Longfellow stands apart at his desk taking notes and making
corrections, though of course no one can know yet what he accepts."

Longfellow's true life was that of a scholar and a dreamer; everything
else was a duty, however pleasurable or bountiful the experience might
become in his gentle acceptation. He was seldom stimulated to external
expression by others. Such excitement as he could express again was
always self-excitement; anything external rendered him at once a
listener and an observer. For this reason, it is peculiarly difficult
to give any idea of his lovely presence and character to those who
have not known him. He did not speak in epigrams. It could not be said
of him,--