bt, with his family
happily gathered about him, had to face alone this cruel blow.
There was no purpose in his going to America; Susy would be buried
long before his arrival. He awaited in England the return of his
broken family. They lived that winter in a quiet corner of Chelsea,
No. 23 Tedworth Square.

*****

To Rev. Joseph H. Twichell, in Hartford, Conn.:

Permanent address:
% CHATTO & WINDUS
111 T. MARTIN'S LANE, LONDON,
Sept. 27, '96.

Through Livy and Katy I have learned, dear old Joe, how loyally you
stood poor Susy's friend, and mine, and Livy's: how you came all the way
down, twice, from your summer refuge on your merciful errands to bring
the peace and comfort of your beloved presence, first to that poor
child, and again to the broken heart of her poor desolate mother. It
was like you; like your good great heart, like your matchless and
unmatchable self. It was no surprise to me to learn that you stayed by
Susy long hours, careless of fatigue and heat, it was no surprise to me
to learn that you could still the storms that swept her spirit when no
other could; for she loved you, revered you, trusted you, and "Uncle
Joe" was no empty phrase upon her lips! I am grateful to you, Joe,
grateful to the bottom of my heart, which has always been filled with
love for you, and respect and admiration; and I would have chosen you
out of all the world to take my place at Susy's side and Livy's in those
black hours.

Susy was a rare creature; the rarest that has been reared in Hartford in
this generation. And Livy knew it, and you knew it, and Charley Warner
and George, and Harmony, and the Hillyers and the Dunhams and the
Cheneys, and Susy and Lilly, and the Bunces, and Henry Robinson and Dick
Burton, and perhaps others. And I also was of the number, but not in the
same degree--for she was above my duller comprehension. I merely knew
that she was my superior in fineness of mind, in the delicacy and
subtlety of her intellect, but to fully measure her I was not competent.
I know her better now; for I have read her private writings and sounded
the deeps of her mind; and I know better, now, the treasure that was
mine than I knew it when I had it. But I have this consolation: that
dull as I was, I always knew enough to