_Philadelphia_, Tuesday 19th, 1853

_Ownest_,

We left New York yesterday at 3 o'clock, and arrived safely here, where we have spent the day. We leave for Washington tomorrow morning, and I shall mail this scribble there, so that thou wilt know that I have arrived in good condition. Thou canst not imagine the difficulty of finding time and place to write a word. I enjoy the journey and seeing new places, but need thee beyond all possibility of telling. I feel as if I had just begun to know that there is nothing else for me but thou. The children, too, I know how to love, at last. Kiss them all for me. In greatest haste (and in a public room),

Thine ownest,

N. H.

Baltimore, Wednesday, 5 o'clock.--Thus far in safety. I shall mail the letter immediately on reaching Washington, where we expect to be at past 9.

With love a thousand times more than ever,

Thinest,

N. H.

Washington, Thursday.--Before Breakfast.

--Dearest, I arrived so late and tired, last night, that I quite forgot to mail the letter. I found about a dozen letters awaiting me at the hotel, from other people, but none from thee. My heart is weary with longing for thee. I want thee in my arms.

I shall go to the President at nine o'clock this morning--shall spend three or four days here--and mean to be back early next week.

THINE OWNEST.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_Washington_, April 28th, Thursday. 1853

_Dearest_,

The President has asked me to remain in the city a few days longer, for particular reasons; but I think I shall be free to leave by Sat.u.r.day. It is very queer how much I have done for other people and myself since my arrival here. Colonel Miller is to be here to-night.

Ticknor stands by me manfully, and will not quit me until we see Boston again.

I went to Mount Vernon yesterday with the ladies of the President's family. Thou never sawst such a beautiful and blossoming Spring as we have here.

Expect me early in next week. How I long to be in thy arms is impossible to tell. Tell the children I love them all.

THINEST.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_Liverpool_, July 26th, '54

_Dearest Wife_,

We had the pleasantest pa.s.sage, yesterday, that can be conceived of.

How strange, that the best weather I have ever known should have come to us on these English coasts!

I enclose some letters from the O'Sullivan's, whereby you will see that they have come to a true appreciation of Mr. Cecil's merits. They say nothing of his departure; but I shall live in daily terror of his arrival.

I hardly think it worth while for me to return to the island, this summer;--that is, unless you conclude to stay longer than a week from this time. Do so, by all means, if you think the residence will benefit either yourself or the children. Or it would be easy to return thither, should it seem desirable--or to go somewhere else. Tell me what day you fix upon for leaving; and I will either await you in person at the landing-place, or send Henry. Do not start, unless the weather promises to be favorable, even though you should be all ready to go on board.

I think you should give something to the servants--those of them, at least, who have taken any particular pains with you. Michael asked me for something, but I told him that I should probably be back again;--so you must pay him my debts and your own too.

It is very lonesome at Rock Ferry, and I long to have you all back again. Give my love to the children.

THINE OWNEST.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_Liverpool_, Sept. 12th, 1854

_Dearest_,

We arrived safe at Rock Ferry at about ten. Emily had gone to bed, but came down in her night-clothes--the queerest figure I ever saw.

I enclose a letter from thy brother N. It contains one piece of intelligence very interesting to the parties concerned.

Mr. O'Sullivan is going to London, this afternoon. I wish thou wast at home, for the house is very cheerless in its solitude. But it will be only a few days before I see thee again; and in the meantime thou must go to all accessible places, and enjoy thyself for both of us. The barometer goes backward to-day, and indicates a proximate change of weather. What wilt thou do in a rain-storm?

I am weighed down and disheartened by the usual immense pile of American newspapers. What a miserable country!

Kiss all the old people for me--Julian, as well as the others.

Thine ownest,

N. H.

TO MRS. HAWTHORNE

_Liverpool_, July 30th, 1855