Volume II Part 18 (2/2)

_Ownest Phoebe_,

I left Brunswick Wednesday night, and arrived here yesterday, with Pierce. My adventures thou shalt know when I return, and how I was celebrated by orators and poets--and how, by the grace of Divine Providence, I was not present, to be put to the blush. All my contemporaries have grown the funniest old men in the world. Am I a funny old man?

I am going to cross over to the Isle of Shoals, this forenoon, and intend to spend several days there, until I get saturated with sea-breezes.

I love thee very much-est;--likewise, the children are very pleasant to think of. Kiss Una--Kiss Julian--Kiss Rosebud--for me! Kiss thyself, if thou canst--and I wish thou wouldst kiss me.

A boat pa.s.ses between Portsmouth and the Isle of Shoals, every forenoon; and a letter, I presume, would reach me in case of necessity.

I long to see thee. It is breakfast time.

Thine ownest

N. HAWTHORNE.

Mrs. Sophia A. Hawthorne, Concord, Ma.s.sachusetts.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_New York_, Sunday morng., April 17th, 1853

_Dearest_,

I arrived here in good condition Thursday night at past 12. Every moment of my time has been so taken up with calls and engagements that I really could not put pen to paper until now, when I am writing before going down to breakfast.

It is almost as difficult to see O'Sullivan here as if he were a hundred miles off. I rode three miles to his home on Friday, and found him not at home. However, he came yesterday, and we talked together until other people came between.

I do wish I could be let alone, to follow my own ideas of what is agreeable. To-day, I am to dine with a college-professor of mathematics, to meet Miss Lynch!! Why did I ever leave thee, my own dearest wife? Now, thou seest, I am to be lynched.

We have an ugly storm here to-day. I intend to leave New York for Philadelphia tomorrow, and shall probably reach Was.h.i.+ngton on Wednesday.

I am homesick for thee. The children, too, seem very good and beautiful. I hope Una will be very kind and sweet. As for Julian, let Ellen make him a pandowdy. Does Rosebud still remember me? It seems an age since I left home.

No words can tell how I love thee. I will write again as soon as possible.

THINE OWNEST HUSBAND.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

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