Yours sincerely,
G.W.C.
My dear Friend,—If I should come to Brook
Farm on Thursday evening will it be convenient, and
shall you be at home? If all circumstances favor,
I should like to remain with you until Saturday.
On Thursday I shall go into Boston to hear what the
Texas Convention is saying, and if I hear anything
very eloquent or interesting may not see you until
Friday.
I was very sorry to know nothing of your convention
until it was over. I should have run down to
have seen you.
On Saturday evening I was at the Academy, and on Sunday
at the Handel and Haydn. I have by Burrill a
letter from Cranch, and a book of German songs from
Isaac. More anon.
Your friend ever,
G.W. Curtis.
CONCORD, January 28th, 1845.
PROVIDENCE, March 5th, ’45.
My dear Friend,—I hope to see you at Brook
Farm by Friday, intending to remain until Friday P.M.
Here in Providence I have been having a quiet good
time, though the weeks have flown faster than I thought
weeks could fly. Mrs. Burges received a Phalanx
from Miss Russell, in which we found a good deal of
interesting matter. I hear from her that she will
write by me to Miss Russell.
To-day it rains merrily, a warm southern April rain;
and the weeks of mild weather hint that there must
be ploughing and sowing very soon. I anticipate
my summer work with a good deal of pleasure.
Yours truly and hastily,
G.W. Curtis.
CONCORD, March 13, ’45.
My dear Friend,—The cold gray days at Brook
Farm were the sunniest of the month. I wish I
could step into the parlor when my heart is ready for
music, and surrender to Beethoven and Mozart or, indeed,
when I find men very selfish and mean, look in upon
your kindliness and general sympathy. But while
your intercourse at the Farm is so gentle and sweet
you will not forget that it springs from the characters
whose companions are still in outer darkness and civilization!
I meet every day men of very tender characters under
the roughest mien. Even in the midst of the world
I constantly balance my ledger in favor of actual
virtue, and enjoy intercourse, not so familiar but
as sweet, as that I saw at Brook Farm. Is it
not the tendency of a decided institution of reform
to be unjust to the Barbarians? I do assure you
the warm, tender south winds blow over us here in
the unsocial state no less than the chilly east.
