were in truth monologues, replied to Mr. Alcott in his own striking
style. Finding the audience alive to what he wished to say, he
continued, and "did the talking himself." Miss Mary Emerson, Emerson's
well-beloved aunt, the extraordinary original of one of his most
delightful papers, was present. She had never met Mr. James before,
and became greatly excited by some of the opinions he advanced. She
thought he often used the word "religion," when, to her mind, he
appeared to mean, sometimes "dogmatism" and sometimes,
"ecclesiasticism."

She bided her time, though a storm had gathered within her. At last,
when a momentary silence fell and no one appeared ready to refute
certain opinions advanced by Mr. James, "Amita" rose, took a chair,
and, placing it in front of him, exclaimed, "Let me confront the
monster!" The discussion was then renewed, excited by this sally of
"Amita's" wit, and the company parted with a larger understanding of
the subject and greater appreciation of each other. "It was a glorious
occasion for those who love a battle of words," said one who was
present. Mr. James delighted his host by his remarks upon the
character of the beloved "Amita."

He had many reservations with regard to Dickens. He could not easily
forgive any one who made him laugh immoderately. The first reading of
"Dr. Marigold" in Boston was an exciting occasion, and Emerson was
invited to "assist." After the reading he sat talking until a very
late hour, for he was taken by surprise at the novelty and artistic
perfection of the performance. His usual calm had quite broken down
under it; he had laughed as if he might crumble to pieces, his face
wearing an expression of absolute pain; indeed, the scene was so
strange that it was mirth-provoking to those who were near. But when