To the Same.

Cambridge, June 13, 1867.

My visit to Northampton was only a short one, and was mainly filled with business. But I found it very pleasant, — almost as pleasant as living in Cambridge at this season. The town itself was even more beautiful. Cambridge has, however, the supreme advantage to me of having one spot in it where I can attain, at will, the greatest beatitude, — that of complete abstraction from the external world, even in a day in June. My room has become so familiar to me, that my knowledge of it has ripened into oblivion. I live here a disembodied spirit, undisturbed by the distractions of any thing foreign to me.

... It would have been very pleasant to have made my journey a vacation, and to have included in it a visit to you; but the “sweet nothing to do” is a luxury for which I fear I shall never have the means, since I spend my time here as unskilfully, and with as little forethought, as the New York capitalists do their money. I have not yet “learned the fine art of spending” time.