o whether he could report the talk.

"I do not like the papers to talk about me," was the answer; "but if it
will help you, go ahead and practise on me. You haven't stolen my books
when you were told to do so, and I don't think you'll steal my name."

The boy went back to his hotel, and wrote an article much as this
account is here written, which he sent to Doctor Brooks. "Let me keep it
by me," the doctor wrote, "and I will return it to you presently."

And he did, with his comment on the Sunday newspaper, just as it is
given here, and with this note:

If I must go into the
newspapers at all--which
I should always vastly
prefer to avoid--no words could
have been more kind than
those of your article. You
were very good to send it
to me. I am ever
Sincerely, Your friend,
Phillips Brooks

As he let the boy out of his house, at the end of that first meeting, he
said to him:

"And you're going from me now to see Emerson? I don't know," he added
reflectively, "whether you will see him at his best. Still, you may. And
even if you do not, to have seen him, even as you may see him, is
better, in a way, than not to have seen him at all."

Edward did not know what Phillips Brooks meant. But he was, sadly, to
find out the next day.

A boy of sixteen was pretty sure of a welcome from Louisa Alcott, and
his greeting from her was spontaneous and sincere.

"Why, you good boy," she said, "to come all the way to Concord to see
us," quite for all the world as if she were the one favored. "Now take
your coat off, and come right in by the fire."

"Do tell me all about your visit," she continued.

Before that cozey fire they chatted. It was pleasant to the boy to sit
there with that sweet-faced woman with those kindly eyes! After a while
she said: "Now I shall put on my coat and hat, and we shall walk over to
Emerson's house. I am almost afraid to promise that you will see him. He
sees scarcely any one now. He is feeble, and--" She did not finish the
sentence. "But we'll walk over there, at any rate."

She spoke mostly of her father as the two walked along, and it was easy
to see that his condition was now the one thought of her life. Presently
they reached Emerson's house, and Miss Emerson welcomed them at the
door. After a brief chat Miss Alcott told of the boy's hope. Miss
Emerson shook her head.

"Father sees no one now," she said, "and I fear it might not be a
pleasure if you did see him."

Th