The last letter of Henry Thoreau, written by the hand of his sister,
was sent to Myron Benton, a young literary man then living in Dutchess
County, New York, who had written a grateful letter to the author of
"Walden" (January 6, 1862), though quite unacquainted with him. Mr.
Benton said that the news of Thoreau's illness had affected him as if
it were that "of a personal friend whom I had known a long time," and
added: "The secret of the influence by which your writings charm me is
altogether as intangible, though real, as the attraction of Nature
herself. I read and reread your books with ever fresh delight. Nor is
it pleasure alone; there is a singular spiritual healthiness with
which they seem imbued,--the expression of a soul essentially sound,
so free from any morbid tendency." After mentioning that his own home
was in a pleasant valley, once the hunting-ground of the Indians, Mr.
Benton said:--
"I was in hope to read something more from your pen in Mr. Conway's
_Dial_,[106] but only recognized that fine pair of Walden twinlets.
Of your two books, I perhaps prefer the 'Week'--but after all,
'Walden' is but little less a favorite. In the former, I like
especially those little snatches of poetry interspersed throughout. I
would like to ask what progress you have made in a work some way
connected with natural history,--I think it was on Botany,--which Mr.
Emerson told me something about in a short interview I had with him
two years ago at Poughkeepsie.... If you should feel perfectly able at
any time to drop me a few lines, I would like much to know what your
state of health is, and if there is, as I cannot but hope, a prospect
of your speedy recovery."
Two months and more passed before Thoreau replied; but his habit of
performing every duty, whether of business or courtesy, would not
excuse him from an answer, which was this:--