Your paper is a triumph. It is so handsome to the eye and sweet to the mind, it is so pleasantly varied, and its sketches have such completeness of grace in themselves, that the reader is not ashamed of the pleasure it gives him and the interest he has in it, which you may have remarked is not always the case, for instance, in liking Anna Thillard's business at Niblo's (of which very little is certainly enough). I am half ashamed of myself for really enjoying what I know is so utterly artificial. Do you conceive?

I just see in the _National Era_ a long notice of you and your _Journal_.

It was not mine or the T.'s or I should have sent it to you. But you must find it.

You will receive an early copy of my Syrian book, the last of the Howadji, who, leaving the East, becomes a mere traveller. It was a real work of love, and I hope you may have some of the pleasure in reading that I had in writing it.

Give my love to your wife, and believe me always,

G.W.C.

I send you over the page a list of names of my subscribers and enclose you the funds in N.Y. money. [Enclosed were eight subscriptions to _Dwight's Journal of Music_, Curtis himself taking three copies.]

X

N.Y., _28th Apr., 1852._

My dear John,--I span out my letter so far that I had no room for pictures, but I will not forget them, and they will remain open until the middle of July.

I shall be only too delighted to see Mr. Goldschmidt, and sincerely regret that I have enjoyed no such opportunity of seeing Jenny Lind until just as she is going. We are beginning to stir. White and I have both suggested _one_ concert of the true stamp, and the _Times_ came out against us and we pitched back again into the _Times_; and the _Herald_ and other journals have called attention to the warfare, and insist that humbug, Barnumania, and high prices shall be put down. I am going to write an article upon Jenny Lind's right to ask $3 if she thinks fit, on the principle that d.i.c.kens, Horace Vernet, and every mola.s.ses merchant acts and properly acts.

Why not send your papers to the publisher of some Sat.u.r.day paper to distribute with his? The difficulty is that if people are irregular in getting it, it will lose its character of steadiness, which is fatal to such a paper. Ripley agrees in this. By mail the majority of people who haven't boxes at the P.O. get nothing at all, or only spasmodically. You will have to send it to some agent here, I am confident.

Cranch is about breaking up house-keeping preparatory to his summer rustication. He is in a tight place again, as he is too apt to be, poor fellow! The fact is art is poor pay unless you are a great artist. He fights very cheerfully, though, which is a comfort. His children are very interesting, and at his house there is a set of us who have the best of times, the most truly genial and poetic.

I enclose you the funds which I so amusingly forgot, and, if I can serve you by seeing any agent or other "fallow deer," I shall be most happy to do it; and don't fail always to call upon me.

Yours most truly and ever,

G.W.C.

Is this sum right?

XI

NEWPORT, _July 29th, 1852._

My dear John,--I have been running round for two or three weeks, and have forgotten to ask you to change the address of the papers which come to me....

I am charmingly situated here with Mr. and Mrs. Longfellow and Tom Appleton, and with some other pleasant people. It is very lovely and lazy; but I am quite busy. Give my love to your wife and believe me, always,

Your aff.

G.W.C.

XII

NEWPORT, _Oct. 11th, 1852._

My dear John,--I leave Newport this evening, and since "friend after friend departs," you will hardly be surprised to hear that I have fallen from the ranks of bachelors; and that when I said I should die such, I had no idea I should live to be married. Prosaically, then, I am engaged to.... Her father is cousin of ... and is of the elder branch of the family, so that I already begin to feel sentimental about Lady Arabella Johnson. On the other side I come plump against plump old Gov. Stuyvesant of the New Netherlands. What with Dutch and Puritan blood, therefore, I shall be sufficiently sobered, you will fancy. Wrong, astutest of Johns, for my girl plays like a sunbeam over the dulness of that old pedigree, and is no whit more Dutch or Puritan than I am. She is, in brief, 22 years old, a very, very p.r.o.nounced blonde, not handsome (to common eyes), graceful and winning, not accomplished nor talented nor fond of books, gay as a bird, bright as sunshine, and has that immortal youth, that perennial freshness and sweetness which is the secret of permanent happiness.

I am as happy as the day, and have no especial intention of marrying directly. Her father has a large property, but she is not, properly, a rich girl. I shall be settled at home in ten days. To-night I am going to Baltimore, and shall return to New York next week.

Give my warmest love to your wife, and believe me--Benedict or no Benedict--always

Your aff.

G.W.C.

XIII

N.Y., _14th April, 1853._

Caro Don Giovanni,--Any time these six months I have seen a skulking scoundrel who endeavored to avoid my notice, and always turned pale when he saw a copy of _Dwight's Journal of Music_. I pursued him vigorously, and he confessed to me that he was the chief of sinners, and that his name was _Hafiz_.

"But," said he, when he saw in my eyes the firm resolve to acquaint the editor with the fact that his correspondent was still living--"but, oh!

say that I have just paid to Messrs. Scharfenberg and Luis my subscription for the three copies owing the coming year"--and thereupon he vanished; and I haste to discharge my duty, for if I have a failing, it is doing my duty. Should you see the editor will you please state not only the fact of the subscription paid, but that I have heard this pursued Hafiz swear that not many moons should wane before he wrote to _Dwight's Journal of Music_ a letter about things in New York, "our new music and other things," for instance.

Hafiz, who tries to make me believe that he does the music in _Putnam_, says that in the May number he has commended your _Journal_. He is an abandoned fellow.

How are you, and how prospers the _Journal_? and have you quite forgiven my wicked silences as well as my imperfect speeches; and will you please not to forget that you are never forgotten by Your aff.

G.W.C.

XIV

N.Y., _Sept. 14, '53._

My dear John,---I have just returned to town, and find your letter suggestive of White Mountains, quiet, artists, and other dissipations; but I am just from the hills, where I have been for six weeks, and am ordered to the sea-sh.o.r.e to be salted. I am not quite sure whether I shall go to Newport or to Long Branch; but I infinitely prefer Newport, although I have very valued friends upon the New Jersey sh.o.r.e.

My old head has been bothering me all summer; but Dr. Gray has taken it fairly in hand, and says I shall soon be all right. I hope he is not all wrong.

I am coming to Boston some time during the season to lecture before your Mercantile Library, and have promised to make something of a visit; but I fear it will hardly be possible to stay long.

X was on my track yesterday, although I havn't seen him for an age. I hear he projects Europe again, but know nothing definite. Today I am just hurrying off to Staten Island to a.s.sist at the nuptials of.... So they go, and so, soon--let us pray--may

Your aff.

G.W.C.

XV

N.Y., _July 19, '53._