him, and he made an appointment thereupon to go with me there tomorrow afternoon for that very purpose. Returned to the hotel at 9.30 P. M. (The idea of repeating that call at Alcotts to gratify a whim!)
Aug. 30th. Up at six o'clock for a walk past the old Monument and up Ponkawtasset hill, on the side of which William Ellery Channing once lived and got the credit for going farther to visit Thoreau in his hut in midwinter than any other living man—"that was not a poet!" It was pleasant to stand there and see the placid Concord running through the meadows, where thirty-five years ago, near this time of the year, Henry Thoreau and his brother rowed down this stream upon that trip on the account whereof were strung the beads that glitter and gleam in Thoreau's first book.
In the afternoon, called upon X. to go to Mr. Alcott's to hear him read. A. did "read"; and X. and I sat and [X.] very civilly listened to him.
During the reading Mrs. Alcott came in, and I had the pleasure of making farther acquaintance with her. She seemed a kind, sweet, motherly woman. After the reading broke up, a pleasant general chat ensued.[1]
- ↑ "A general chat"—and Alcott, the Great Converser, present! We trust that our diarist is truthful.—Ed.
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