[_San Francisco, May 1880._]
MY DEAR COLVIN,--I received your letter and proof to-day, and was
greatly delighted with the last.
I am now out of danger; in but a short while (_i.e._ as soon as the
weather is settled), F. and I marry and go up to the hills to look for a
place; "I to the hills will lift mine eyes, from whence doth come mine
aid": once the place found, the furniture will follow. There, sir, in, I
hope, a ranche among the pine-trees and hard by a running brook, we are
to fish, hunt, sketch, study Spanish, French, Latin, Euclid, and
History; and, if possible, not quarrel. Far from man, sir, in the virgin
forest. Thence, as my strength returns, you may expect works of genius.
I always feel as if I must write a work of genius some time or other;
and when is it more likely to come off, than just after I have paid a
visit to Styx and go thence to the eternal mountains? Such a revolution
in a man's affairs, as I have somewhere written, would set anybody
singing. When we get installed, Lloyd and I are going to print my
poetical works; so all those who have been poetically addressed shall
receive copies of their addresses. They are, I believe, pretty correct
literary exercises, or will be, with a few filings; but they are not
remarkable for white-hot vehemence of inspiration; tepid works!
respectable versifications of very proper and even original sentiments:
kind of Hayleyistic, I fear--but no, this is morbid self-depreciation.
The family is all very shaky in health, but our motto is now _Al Monte_!
in the words of Don Lope, in the play the sister and I are just beating
through with two bad dictionaries and an insane grammar. I to the
hills.--Yours ever,