ointed out to him he gave a look of mild rebuke at the
audacious offender, and went on with his discourse as if nothing
had happened.

The people who do not think very much of Alcott ought to
speak with a god deal of modesty when they remember how highly
Emerson valued him, and how sure was Emerson's judgment; but
certainly nobody will attribute to Alcott much of the logical
faculty. Emerson told me once:

"I got together some people a little while ago to meet Alcott
and hear him converse. I wanted them to know what a rare
fellow he was. But we did not get along very well. Poor
Alcott had a hard time. Theodore Parker came all stuck full
of knives. He wound himself round Alcott like an anaconda;
you could hear poor Alcott's bones crunch."

Margaret Fuller used to visit Concord a good deal, and at
one time boarded in the village for several months.

She was very peculiar in her ways, and made people whom she
did not like feel very uncomfortable in her presence. She
was not generally popular, although the persons who knew her
best valued her genius highly. But old Doctor Bartlett, a
very excellent and kind old doctor, though rather gruff in
manner, could not abide her.

About midnight one very dark, stormy night the doctor was
called out of bed by a sharp knocking at the door. He got
up and put his head out of the window, and said, "Who's there?
What do you want?" He was answered by a voice in the darkness
below, "Doctor, how much camphire can anybody take by mistake
without its killing them?" To which the reply was, "Who's
taken it?" And the answer was "Margaret Fuller." The doctor
answered in great wrath, as he slammed down the window, and
returned to bed: "A peck."

William Ellery Channing, the poet, was a constant visitor
of my sister, and later of my brother Edward. He was a moody
and solitary person, except in the company of a few close
friends who testified to the charming and delightful quality
of his companionship. I suppose his poems will outlast a
great many greater reputations. But they will always find
very few readers in any generation.

Channing visited my elder sister almost every day or evening
for a good while, but rarely remained more than two or three
minutes if he found anybody else in the room.

George William Curtis, afterward the famous orator, and his
brother, Burrill, occupied for a year or two a small farmhouse
or hut, with one or two rooms in it, in Concord, on the