and chat upon its plane still, as if there were no lower latitudes? Surely our two destinies are topics interesting and grand enough for any occasion.
I hope you have many gleams of serenity and health, or, if your body will grant you no positive respite,—that you may, at any rate, enjoy your sickness occasionally, as much as I used to tell of. But here is the bundle going to be done up, so accept a "good-night" from
HENRY D. THOREAU.
TO MRS. L. C. B.
Concord, March 2, 1842.
Dear Friend:—
I believe I have nothing new to tell you, for what was news you have learned from other sources. I am much the same person that I was, who should be so much better; yet when I realize what has transpired, and the greatness of the part I am unconsciously acting, I am thrilled, and it seems as if there were none in history to match it.
Soon after John's death I listened to a music-box, and if, at any time, that event had seemed in consistent with the beauty and harmony of the universe, it was then gently constrained into the
