e
sent to the Hawthornes, who were also in Paris, asking for the privilege
of joining them, as they too were journeying in the same direction. She
says in her diary:

"Mrs. Hawthorne was feeble, and she told me that she objected, but that
Mr. Hawthorne assured her that I was a person who would give no trouble;
therefore she consented. We were about ten days on the journey to Rome,
and three months in Rome; living, however, some streets asunder. I saw
them nearly every day. Like everybody else, I found Mr. Hawthorne very
taciturn. His few words were, however, very telling. When I talked
French, he told me it was capital: 'It came down like a sledge-hammer.'
His little satirical remarks were such as these: It was March and I took
a bunch of violets to Rosa; notched white paper was wound around them,
and Mr. Hawthorne said, 'They have on a cambric ruffle."

"Generally he sat by an open fire, with his feet thrust into the coals,
and an open volume of Thackeray upon his knees. He said that Thackeray
was the greatest living novelist. I sometimes suspected that the volume
of Thackeray was kept as a foil, that he might not be talked to. He
shrank from society, but rode and walked."

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.

ROME, Feb. 16, 1858.

... The Hawthornes are invaluable to me, because the little ones
come to my room every day and I go there when I like. Mrs.
Hawthorne sometimes walks with us, Mr. H. _never_. He has a
horror of sight-seeing and of emotions in general, but I like
him very much, and when I say I like _him_ it only means that I
like _her_ a little more. Julian, the boy, is in love with me.
When I was last there Mr. H. came home with me; as he put on his
coat he turned to Julian and said, "Julian, I should think with
your _tender interest_ in Miss Mitchell you wouldn't let me
escort her home."

"We arrived in Rome in the evening. Mrs. H. was somewhat of an invalid,
and Mr. Hawthorne tried in vain to make the servant understand that she
must have a fire in her room. He spoke no word of French, German, or
Italian, but he said emphatically, 'Make a fire in Mrs. Hawthorne's
room.' Worn out with his efforts, he turned to me and said, 'Do, Miss
Mitchell, tell the servant what I want; your French is excellent!
Englishmen and Frenchmen understand it equally well.' So I said in
execrable French, 'Make a fire,' and pointed to the grate; of course the
gesture was understood.

"Mr. H