To Longfellow, then at Portland, he wrote, Feb. 19:—
This moment comes to hand a letter from my brother Albert, communicating the intelligence of the death of the wife of our friend My heart bleeds for him. I think of his wife,—simple, cheerful, sweet-voiced, and, more than all, filling his heart. If you write to him, pray assure him of my deep sympathy. I would write myself, but that I have not that length of acquaintance with him which would seem to justify my approaching him in such a terrible calamity. It is on such occasions that the chosen friends of years only, heart-bound and time-bound, assemble and knit themselves about the sufferer. I have received no intelligence for a long time that has grieved me so much.