tender sweets of the dignity of friendship without its form--these are
buds that bloom only in the warmth of hands perpetually united.

To-night Charles Dana and Isaac and Burrill came to see me. I smelled
summer leaves and heard summer flutes as I stood with them and talked.
Charles was never so important to me; he was himself and all Brook Farm
beside. We are all going to hear William Henry Channing in the morning.
Last Sunday at the church door I met C.P. Cranch and his wife. I mean to
go and see them very soon, though they live _streets_ away. Of Isaac I
have seen much for a week's space. He lives two miles or more from us.

I have heard no music yet. Max Bohrer concerts on Monday with Timm, Mrs.
Sutton, Antogigni, and Schafenberg; I mean to go. The Philharmonic
concerts begin a week from this evening. They have four concerts, and the
subscription is $10, for which one obtains three tickets to each concert,
and the privilege of buying two occasional tickets at $1.50 each. A
singular arrangement. They are to play the 8th Symphony next Saturday. I
know not what else.

Give Almira a great deal of love from me. I shall sing a song to her
solitude and patiently await the response. I have begun to read "Wilhelm
Meister" in German. I read about three or four hours a day, then an hour
or two in Latin, and the rest to poetical reading--Beaumont and Fletcher,
Ford, Massinger, Shakespeare, and the Bible, at present. In Worcester I
found Montaigne, whom I devoured. What cheerful good sense! I have begun
also to learn two or three of B.'s waltzes from note. "La Dobur" I have
almost accomplished. Possibly I shall thus pick up some _note_ knowledge,
though I do not build any castles. Good-night. Could I but send myself in
my letter! Your friend,