An Afterglow
MARBLEHEAD, MASS.
The Northwest, you will be glad to hear, is bombarding me with epistles, and I am lecturing on paper from my armchair in moderation.
BOSTON
The breath of the woods with which my arrival was welcomed at the office this morning was good to get. I am here for the noonday hours only and that by accident; accident taking the form of my tailor from London. So I am up to order clothes for next winter of a seemingly impossible thickness now. And yet they will not be thick enough when the time comes. English stuffs never are. The envoy calls himself Mr. Judge, so he ought to know.
The bush we knew not what to call is now hanging, but not dangling, its berries nearly black. The tansies are now superb, and the goldenrod is goldening.
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