Things are looking pretty dark with us just now; and Colonel Higginson remarked that it seemed to him when he was in England, and was admitted by many with whom he conversed there, that the fact of Lord Beaconsfield having been able to commit England to the disastrous course marked out for her in the Berlin Treaty not merely without the consent, but without the knowledge even of Parliament, proved that we were not a self-governing people to the extent we had supposed. But to me it seems that the English people have only themselves to thank for that disaster. They had had a good taste of the Premier's quality before the close of the session. They had had ample proof that he was a Will-o'-the-Wisp whose nature and delight it was to dance gaily along over swampy places. And had so large a proportion of them not suffered themselves to be deluded by his specious brilliancy and led on by his fantastic beckoning, he could have been cleared off the ground in good time: the lawful means are open to us -and the fit man is there to take his place. 39, Somerset-street, Nov. 20.

ANNE GILCHRIST."

After leaving Boston, the family settled down in New York for the winter and spring. A letter written from Brooklyn, December 6, 1878, vividly pictures Concord and the people living there:

My dear Mr. Rossetti: I hardly think I have written to you since we left Philadelphia in the Spring; and if so, shall not be repeating myself in telling you some of our summer and autumn experiences in beautiful New England. Especially has our autumn been delightful. We went at the beginning

of October to Concord, and boarded there with a sisterin-law of Mrs. Emerson's. Thus we found ourselves at once in the midst of the literary circle: all Concord indeed seems more or less literary, and has ways of its own, and standards of its own; making money, it seemed to me, of less account than it is in other corners of the civilized world.

"Emerson is of course the central figure, and is personally beloved and honoured by his townsmen in a way that is pleasant to see; as well he may be. For he unites with his fine genius a fine character, and is full of goodness and amiability. We spent two evenings with him. His conversation reverted continually to Carlyle and their early intercourse. His memory fails somewhat as to recent names and topics, but as is usual in such cases, all the mental impressions that were made when he was in full vigour remain clear and strong. Emerson looks the picture of health and cheerful serenity; and has just such a home, spacious, comfortable, as one could desire for him. His wife is an animated, graceful, intellectual woman though a sad invalid, and his single daughter, Ellen, devoted to him, and the very soul of goodness and unworldliness. Altogether, few have been the men of genius, I should say, who have had so entirely congenial and favourable a lot in life. His son is practising as a physician in Concord and has two fine children. Indeed on Thanksgiving Day [Emerson] gathers some twenty-two children, grandchildren, and relations of his wife's round his table; and heartily enjoys the games and merriment of the children, I am told.

By the by, you probably know there is a portrait of Emerson by David Scott in the Concord Public Library.

"In point of scenery, the charm of Concord lies along its river, whereon, a kind and very agreeable literary friend, Mr. Fred. Holland, rowed us daily. Americans call it a mere stream but we should regard it as a river of respectable dimensions (about as broad as the Kennet). It winds leisurely along, making bold curves through level meadows, past groves of hemlock interspersed (as always throughout Massachusetts) with grey boulders of every shape and size; past hills, sometimes crowned with vineyards (for Concord is famous for its grapes) sometimes richly wooded, then in all their autumn splendour of scarlet and gold, mirrored in the water as gay as any flower border: now and then the river spreads out and the hills enclose it like a lake. It flows past the famous spot where the first blood was shed in the revolutionary war. A really successful statue

The Minute Man'-by a native of Concord, Dan French, marks the spot, an avenue leads up to it, a rustic bridge crosses the river hard by; and the 'Old Manse,' picturesque, venerable, just as it ought to look is visible through its orchard which slopes to the water -the whole just as pretty as it can be' to use a favourite American phrase.

"But if I run on any longer about Concord, there will be no room for anything else; so I will only add that Sleepy Hollow,' the burial-ground where Hawthorne lies, is the very sweetest last resting-place poet could desire—a green hollow shut in by wooded hills,

LONGFELLOW.

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on the top of one of which is the little stone, planted round with Arbor Vitæ, that marks his grave.

"November we have been spending in Boston, and spending delightfully-for it is a beautiful city; and it seems to me I have made more new acquaintances in the last two months than in the whole of my life before, and many, nay, most of them people of such intelligence, culture and geniality that I found it tantalizing to have but brief intercourse with them, and hope much to return to Boston before I leave America, that some of these acquaintanceships may ripen into friendship.

"I sent your introduction to Mr. Eliot Norton, who at once called on me; and a very interesting conversation we had. . .

"With Mr. Horace Scudder (to whom also you gave me an introduction) I had a delightful time. He and his pretty, graceful wife were as cordial as possible; and invited a large and interesting circle of friends to meet me-Col. Higginson, Mr. Van Brunt, the architect of Memorial Hall, Mr. Gilman, who is editing, I am told, a very fine edition of Chaucer, and a number of the Harvard professors.

"At Mr. Holland's I met Longfellow, President Eliot, and others. I afterwards called on Mr. Longfellow; he is the most kindly, good-natured, unaffected man possible, quite unspoiled by his great popularity; and lives in the jolliest old house with a happy family circle around."

In a letter written from 112, Madison Avenue, a picture of Concord in winter is suggested:-"My dear Mrs. Holland: I feel inclined to write a letter all

questions, for I would dearly like a written picture of pleasant Concord, of the comings and goings, the talkings and readings of that friendly delightful circle in the midst of which I felt more at home after a three weeks residence than I should after three years here. And how does the River look? is it a great plain of ice stretching all over the meadows, with here and there trees and bushes sticking up through it? And do you get over to Mrs. Le Brun's for cosy evening chats? and is the book nearly through the press [The Reign of the Stoics, by Frederick Holland]? and does your husband walk to the tops of those pleasant hills to take a look at the wintry world and get as much health out of it as out of the more luxurious boating? Well, I do not expect answers to everything, or indeed anything, till you have leisure and inclination.

"As a place to live in I like it [New York] less than anywhere else I have been in America; what with its piled up human habitations, its dirty, noisy streets, its icy winds, it seems to me behind Boston in everything but size and noise: I suppose, too, I must add in those same icy winds and that, that dear old place would be still more trying to me in that particular.

The visit to New York, and America, draws to a close in 1879.

Writing, March the third, to William Rossetti she says: "We are having a pleasant winter in New York. . . . We have had some of our most delightful evenings at Mr. Gilder's. Do you know him as a young poet? He is one of the editors of Scribner's [now the Editor of The Century], and one