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betel-nut.”
I told him I was fond of nuts and also of beetles, but preferred my botany and entomology separate.
“Ah,” said he, “but everybody must have some narcotic, if you don't chew the betel-nut, you take opium pills or laudanum in some form.”
I assured him I took no pills but homoeopathic and those rarely.
The incessant activity of these years wore even on
Mr. Higginson's wonderful physique and he wrote:—
I suppose that even I myself can hardly realize how much overworked I have been this winter—so much writing and speaking and visiting have I had to do (studying has been almost suspended)—to say nothing of travelling for various objects and the constant care of my wife who has scarcely ever needed more attention. . .
We suspended housekeeping awhile, for my wife's health, and have been boarding since New Year's at the queerest old rambling Hotel, one of the few old things in Worcester . . . .
We are so very nicely placed here at the Lincoln House, M. is quite delighted.
We have a pleasant parlor on Elm St. with a little bedroom and a large closet; it fronts South and the house is brick, so it is perfectly warm and M. has stood a snowstorm without a shudder. . . . There is a girl with a violent piano below, a man with a violent nose beside us, and two youths over our heads who apparently sleep in boots.
