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June 24, 1826.
my dearest wife,—It is all over, all well over, and I am very much contented and light-hearted. Yesterday, however, was a real flurry, as I thought it would be. I began the general report day before yesterday, in the afternoon. It was plainly to be about thirty pages long; the two other committees who were to furnish materials for a large part of it had behaved very shabbily, neglected their duty, and done nothing but collect documents, which they had neither examined nor digested. In short, the whole work came upon me. At the same time the French examination was going on, which it was my particular duty, from the first, to superintend and share. Everything, therefore, came at once. That afternoon and night I wrote about ten pages, and examined two sections in French. Yesterday I examined two other sections, dined abroad, examined the Hospital, and wrote twenty pages. This morning before breakfast I finished it [the report]. At eleven o'clock the examination was finished, and the report read, and signed by all the Board. At twelve we had a little address to the Cadets by Kane, which was very neat and appropriate. I declined delivering it, having enough else to do; and I am glad I did, for it was done remarkably well by Kane, whom, by the by, I am very glad I have learnt to know.

Very soon after his arrival at West Point, Mr. Ticknor received the sad news of the illness and death of his friend, Mr. N. A. Haven, of Portsmouth. A close sympathy in tastes, and an accordance of judgment in respect to the motives of action, the objects of life, and the foundation of character, had given to their friendship unusual closeness and intimacy.

. Mr. Haven died on the 3d of June, and on the 9th Mr. Ticknor wrote:—

Here, surrounded by those who take no interest in my feelings, I cannot help expressing to you my deep sorrow at the loss of Haven. It pursues me wherever I go. I did not think it would have fallen so heavily on my heart; or, rather, I thought I had more prepared myself for it. But there is no preparation for such things; we may feel composed, as we see one who is dear to us gradually sinking away from our cares and affections; but the last step, the change from life to death, is so sudden, so great, that there is no proper preparation for it. I felt as if it were unexpected, when I read your letter this morning. The blood rushed to my head as if I had then

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