October 5. Through the whole day I have had nothing to do
but to receive visits; to sit or stand in a grand parlor and merely
turn from one to another, receiving the salutations and shaking hands,
sometimes with half a dozen new acquaintances at once—gentlemen of
all professions and all nations, ladies who invite me to their house
and home, and who wish that I would go immediately. Besides, I have
received a number of letters, which I could merely break open,
requests for autographs, and so on. I have shaken hands with from
seventy to eighty persons to-day, while I was unable to receive the
visits of many others. Of the names I remember scarcely any, but the
greater number of the people whom I have seen please me from their
cordial, frank manners, and I am grateful to them for their extreme
friendliness toward me; it feels so warm and hospitable. Nevertheless,
I was very glad to be relieved for a few hours from my friends, and to
drive out with Mr. Downing to the beautiful Greenwood, the large and
new cemetery of New York, a young Père la Chaise, but on a more
gigantic scale as to
location and plan. One
drives as if in an extensive English park, amid hill and dale. From
the highest point, Ocean Hill as it is called, one looks out to the
sea—a glorious view. I should like to repose here.
The above contents can be inspected in scanned images:
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