I have just come in from a
moderate walk in which I acquitted myself creditably. I take two-hour
drives in the afternoon, in the open or close carriage, according to
the weather; but I do not pretend to do much visiting, and I avoid all
excursions when people go to have what they call a "good time."
I am reading right and left--whatever turns up, but especially re-
reading old books. Two new volumes of Dr. Johnson's letters have
furnished me part of my reading. As for writing, when my secretary--
Miss Gaudelet--comes back, I shall resume my dictation. No literary
work ever seemed to me easier or more agreeable than living over my
past life, and putting it on record as well as I could. If anybody
should ever care to write a sketch or memoir of my life, these notes
would help him mightily. My friends too might enjoy them--if I do not
have the misfortune to outlive them all. With affectionate regards and
all sweet messages to Miss Jewett.
Always your friend,
O. W. HOLMES.
This letter gives a very good picture of his life to the end. Few
incidents occurred to break the even current of the order he
describes. He still dined out occasionally, and I find a few
reminiscences of his delightful talk which linger with me.
"I've several things bothering me," he confessed one day. "First, I am
anxious to find a suitable inscription for a child's porringer. I
never wrote a poem to a child, I believe. I love children dearly; I
always want to stop them on the street: but I have never written about
them; nor have I ever written much about women.
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