To Mrs. S. B. Shaw.
Wayland, 1875.
My long visit to you was a great help to my heart and soul in many ways, and I was happier than I could have been anywhere else, under the circumstances.
But you are right in supposing that I often felt “confused and bewildered.”
I feel so everywhere, dear friend, and I suppose it will be long before I get over it. Here in my native Massachusetts I feel like a hungry child lost in a dark wood.
People are very kind to me, but I cannot banish the desolate feeling that I belong to nobody and that nobody belongs to me....
Three days ago I went to my empty little shanty alone, opened doors and windows, and built fires with the wood dear David had so carefully provided.
It was a very solemn and sad task.
Every room was baptized with my tears.
I have wavered a good deal about having my furniture carried back there, but nothing better seems to open for me, and when I inhabit the house, I hope the desolate feeling will gradually pass away.
You cannot imagine anything more still and secluded than my life here.
Luckily, I have been obliged to be very busy, most of the time.
It was a job to get things back and arrange them.
I sleep in the same old chamber, where I slept so many years with my dear old mate; where we were wont to amuse our waking hours reciting German poetry, and
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talking over all the affairs of the universe.
I don't look into a German book, for there is nobody to hear me “speak my pieces” now.