Mr. X. Y. Z. is as whimsical as ever—not calling at my house or recognizing me on the street for the past six years.
We are looking for Mr. Emerson's return [from Europe] and the town will give him a cordial reception. I hope you may see our village again: its charms increase from year to year.
I promise myself much pleasure in the poems when a little leisure is afforded me.
Please excuse this hasty note and believe me,
Yours truly,
S. E. Thoreau.
Twelve days after the burial of her brother Henry, Sophia Thoreau wrote to Mr. Daniel Eicketson: "Profound joy mingles with my grief. I feel as
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