Young V. is a complete Englishman in appearance, character, and prejudices, and in a certain solidity of manner and demeanour, which is not American. But with all this he is very agreeable and polite, and I have to thank him for many friendly attentions, most of all for his evening readings. These were the delicious outpouring of the Spirit of Peace after the restless hours and the fatigues of the day.
I left Boston on the last of February at eight in the morning. I was accompanied to the railway station by Mr. K. and young V., and at the station, who should I see but my good doctor, who had come thither to bid me farewell, and the amiable Professor H. who presented me with a large and beautiful bouquet. With this in my hand away I sped in the comfortable railway carriage, on the wings of steam, in splendid sunshine on that bright cold morning, cheerful both in soul and body, and with a certain peace of conscience at having so far fulfilled my social duties in Boston. I, however, it is true, glanced with envy at a hen which, at one of the cottages which we passed, lay in the dust, basking in the sunshine, and I thought it was much better to be a hen than a lion.
I was invited at Springfield to dine at the Union Hotel, and there to receive visits from various ladies and gentlemen, as well as to write autographs. And then forward on my frying career. The sky had in the mean time become cloudy; it grew darker and darker, and I arrived at New York in a regular tempest of wind and snow. At the station however I was met by a servant and carriage sent for me by Marcus S. And half an hour afterwards I was at Rose Cottage, Brooklyn, drinking tea with my excellent friends, who received me in the kindest manner, and with whom I sate up talking till late.
And I am now with them, and able to hide myself from the world for a few days. This is enchanting; I hope
