Letters to a Friend 



the press. Mr. Swett told me the other day 

 that he met a friend down town who was ac 

 quainted with the Whites intimately, who gave 

 it as his opinion that Mr. White was insane, 

 had a brother in the asylum, and he was as 

 jealous of a half-dozen other persons as of 

 Johnnie. 



If I knew Ned's boarding-house, I would visit 

 him, for I know he must feel terribly agitated. 

 The last time I saw him, he was rejoicing over 

 Johnnie's steady manly development, like an 

 old fond father over some reformed son. 



As for the stranded sapless condition of polit 

 ical geology, I care only for the fruitless work 

 expended upon it by friends. The glaciers are 

 not affected thereby, neither am I nor Cassiope. 



The first meeting I had with Mr. Moore was 

 at the lecture the other night. He seemed im 

 measurably astonished to find me in so anti- 

 sequestered a condition, but in the meanwhile 

 he is more changed than I, for he seems semi- 

 crazy on literature, as Mrs. M. is wholly, 

 doubly so on paint. 



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