autumn 1884

Dear Friend,

Has the journey ceased, or is it still progressing, and has Nature won you away from us, as we feared she would?

Othello is uneasy, but then Othellos always are, they hold such mighty stakes.

Austin brought me the picture of Salvini when he was last in Boston.

The brow is that of Deity -- the eyes, those of the lost, but the power lies in the throat -- pleading, sovereign, savage -- the panther and the dove!

Each, how innocent!

I hope you found the mountains cordial -- followed your meeting with the lakes with affecting sympathy.

Changeless is Nature's change.

The plants went into camp last night, their tender armor insufficient for the crafty nights.

That is one of the parting acts of the year, and has an emerald paths -- and Austin hangs bouquets of corn in the piazza's ceiling also an omen, Austin believes.

The "golden bowl" breaks soundlessly, but it will not be whole again till another year.

Did you read Emily Bronte's marvellous verse?

"Though earth and man were gone,
And suns and universes ceased to be,
And Thou wert left alone,
Every existence would exist in Thee."

We are pining to know of you, and Vinnie thinks to see you would be the opening of the burr....

Emily, with love.