bly moved, and am whenever I think of
them, I do assure you. You have already all the comfort, that I could
lay before you; all, I hope, that the affectionate spirit of your
brother, now in happiness, can shed into your soul.

On the 4th of next January, if it please God, I am coming with my wife
on a three or four months' visit to America. The British and North
American packet will bring me, I hope, to Boston, and enable me, in the
third week of the new year, to set my foot upon the soil I have trodden
in my day-dreams many times, and whose sons (and daughters) I yearn to
know and to be among.

I hope you are surprised, and I hope not unpleasantly.

Faithfully yours.

[Sidenote: Mrs. Hogarth.]

[15]DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _Sunday, October 24th, 1841._

MY DEAR MRS. HOGARTH,

For God's sake be comforted, and bear this well, for the love of your
remaining children.

I had always intended to keep poor Mary's grave for us and our dear
children, and for you. But if it will be any comfort to you to have poor
George buried there, I will cheerfully arrange to place the ground at
your entire disposal. Do not consider me in any way. Consult only your
own heart. Mine seems to tell me that as they both died so young and so
suddenly, they ought both to be buried together.

Try--do try--to think that they have but preceded you to happiness, and
will meet you with joy in heaven. There _is_ consolation in the
knowledge that you have treasure there, and that while you live on
earth, there are creatures among the angels, who owed their being to
you.

Always yours with true affection.

[Sidenote: Mr. Washington Irving.]

MY DEAR SIR,[16]

There is no man in the world who could have given me the heartfelt
pleasure you have, by your kind note of the 13th of last month. There is
no living writer, and there are very few among the dead, whose
approbation I should feel so proud to earn. And with everything you have
written upon my shelves, and in my thoughts, and in my heart of hearts,
I may honestly and truly say so. If you could know how earnestly I write
this, you would be glad to read it--as I hope you will be, faintly
guessing at the warmth of the hand I autobiographically hold out to you
over the broad Atlantic.

I wish I could find in your welcome letter some hint of an intention to
visit England. I can't. I have