As I was writing to your father I was, of course, strongly impressed
with a sense of _you_; for you are an intrusive kind of creature,
coming into one's consciousness in the most lawless way--Phyllis-like.
(Phyllis is my "type and example" of lawlessness, albeit I'm devoted
to her--a Phyllistine, as it were.)
Leigh sends me a notice (before the event) of your concert. I hope it
was successful. Was it?
It rains or snows here all the time, and the mountain struggles in
vain to put on its bravery of leaf and flower. When this kind of thing
stops I'm going to put in an application for you to come up and get
your bad impressions of the place effaced. It is insupportable that my
earthly paradise exist in your memory as a "bad eminence," like
Satan's primacy.
I'm sending you the _New England Magazine_--perhaps I have sent it
already--and a _Harper's Weekly_ with a story by Mrs. * * *, who is a
sort of pupil of mine. She used to do bad work--does now sometimes;
but she will do great work by-and-by.
I wish you had not got that notion that you cannot learn to write. You
see I'd like you to do _some_ art work that I can understand and
enjoy. I wonder why it is that no note or combination of notes can be
struck out of a piano that will touch me--give me an emotion of any
kind. It is not wholly due to my ignorance and bad ear, for other
instruments--the violin, organ, zither, guitar, etc., sometimes affect
me profoundly. Come, read me the riddle if you know. What have I done
that I should be inaccessible to your music? I know it is good; I can
hear that it is, but not feel that it is. Therefore to me it is not.
Now that, you will confess, is a woeful state--"most tolerable and not
to be endured." Will you not cultivate some art within the scope of my
capacity? Do you think you could learn to walk on a wire (if it lay on
the ground)? Can you not ride three horses at once if they are
suitably dead? Or swallow swords? Really, you should have some way to
entertain your uncle.
True, you can talk, but you never get the chance; I always "have the
floor." Clearly you must learn to write, and I mean to get Miller to
teach you how to be a poet.
I hope you will write occasionally to me,--letter-writing is an art
that you do excel in--as I in "appreciation" of your excellence in it.
Do you see my boy? I hope he is good, and diligent in his work.
* * * * *
You must write to me or I shall withdraw my avuncular relation to you.
With good will to all your people--particularly Phyllis--I am
sincerely your friend,