Give my warmest love to your wife, and believe me—Benedict
or no Benedict—always
Your aff.
G.W.C.
N.Y., 14th April, 1853.
Caro Don Giovanni,—Any time these six months
I have seen a skulking scoundrel who endeavored to
avoid my notice, and always turned pale when he saw
a copy of Dwight’s Journal of Music.
I pursued him vigorously, and he confessed to me that
he was the chief of sinners, and that his name was
Hafiz.
“But,” said he, when he saw in my eyes
the firm resolve to acquaint the editor with the fact
that his correspondent was still living—“but,
oh! say that I have just paid to Messrs. Scharfenberg
and Luis my subscription for the three copies owing
the coming year”—and thereupon he
vanished; and I haste to discharge my duty, for if
I have a failing, it is doing my duty. Should
you see the editor will you please state not only the
fact of the subscription paid, but that I have heard
this pursued Hafiz swear that not many moons should
wane before he wrote to Dwight’s Journal of
Music a letter about things in New York, “our
new music and other things,” for instance.
Hafiz, who tries to make me believe that he does the
music in Putnam, says that in the May number
he has commended your Journal. He is an
abandoned fellow.
How are you, and how prospers the Journal?
and have you quite forgiven my wicked silences as
well as my imperfect speeches; and will you please
not to forget that you are never forgotten by Your
aff.
G.W.C.
N.Y., Sept. 14, ’53.
My dear John,—–I have just returned
to town, and find your letter suggestive of White
Mountains, quiet, artists, and other dissipations;
but I am just from the hills, where I have been for
six weeks, and am ordered to the sea-shore to be salted.
I am not quite sure whether I shall go to Newport
or to Long Branch; but I infinitely prefer Newport,
although I have very valued friends upon the New Jersey
shore.
My old head has been bothering me all summer; but
Dr. Gray has taken it fairly in hand, and says I shall
soon be all right. I hope he is not all wrong.
I am coming to Boston some time during the season
to lecture before your Mercantile Library, and have
promised to make something of a visit; but I fear
it will hardly be possible to stay long.
X was on my track yesterday, although I havn’t
seen him for an age. I hear he projects Europe
again, but know nothing definite. Today I am just
hurrying off to Staten Island to assist at the nuptials
of.... So they go, and so, soon—let
us pray—may
Your aff.
G.W.C.
N.Y., July 19, ’53.
My dear John,—It has been anything but
indifference that has prevented my sending you some
notices of the pictures. But my head, which was
muzzy when you were here, has been muzzier ever since,
and my Dr. made me relinquish everything and run out
of town, so that I have been gadding for a month,
and the August Putnam hasn’t a line of
mine.
