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order for a statue of our ‘great Father.’
That is the highest work with which an American artist can occupy himself.
Let me know what you have done lately, and keep me informed of your works.
Would it be possible to persuade
Thorwaldsen to present casts of his works to our Athenaeum?
Or at what price could they be procured?
Give me your ideas about this.
We are anxious to enrich our collection with as many fine works as possible.
Where do you live, and how do you live?
It is in
Rome, and there is enchantment in that word.
But in what street?
How are the
cafes, and the places of resort?
I look back upon my sojourn there with a thrill of delight, and long again to tread the streets, to visit the galleries, to loiter on the marble pavements of the churches, and to surrender myself to the unspeakable charms of the place.
I write this from my office in Court Street, with law books staring me in the face, and business neglected, chiding me for thus dallying in imagination with these far-off scenes.
Felton has just left me, and sends his cordial regards.
We have been sad at parting with
Longfellow.
He sailed from New York for
Havre on 27th April, to pass the summer at a watering-place on the
Rhine, and to return home in October.
When will the ‘
Orpheus’ be finished?
Pray tell me all about it as the work proceeds, and how you are satisfied with it. Where does
Greene live now?
Give him my love.
He must write to some of us.
Ever sincerely yours,
