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anywhere before I had heard from him。 I gladly promised； but I did not
hear from him； and when I returned to Boston a fortnight later； I found
that a fatal partner had refused to agree with him in engaging me upon
the paper。 They even gave me back half a dozen unprinted letters of
mine； and I published them in the Nation； of New York； and afterwards in
the book called Italian Journeys。
But after I had encountered fortune in this frowning disguise； I had a
most joyful little visit with Lowell； which made me forget there was
anything in the world but the delight and glory of sitting with him in
his study at Elmwood and hearing him talk。 It must have been my
freshness from Italy which made him talk chiefly of his own happy days in
the land which so sympathetically brevets all its lovers fellow…citizens。
At any rate he would talk of hardly anything else； and he talked late
into the night； and early into the morning。 About two o'clock； when all
the house was still； he lighted a candle； and went down into the cellar；
and came back with certain bottles under his arms。 I had not a very
learned palate in those days （or in these； for that matter）； but I knew
enough of wine to understand that these bottles had been chosen upon that
principle which Longfellow put in verse； and used to repeat with a
humorous lifting of the eyebrows and hollowing of the voice：
〃If you have a friend to dine；
Give him your best wine；
If you have two；
The second…best will do。〃
As we sat in their mellow afterglow； Lowell spoke to me of my own life
and prospects； wisely and truly； as he always spoke。 He said that it was
enough for a man who had stuff in him to be known to two or three people；
for they would not suffer him to be forgotten； and it would rest with
himself to get on。 I told him that though I had not given up my place at
Venice； I was not going back； if I could find anything to do at home；
and I was now on my way to Ohio； where I should try my best to find
something； at the worst； I could turn to my trade of printer。 He did not
think it need ever come to that； and he said that he believed I should
have an advantage with readers； if not with editors； in hailing from the
West； I should be more of a novelty。 I knew very well that even in my
own West I should not have this advantage unless I appeared there with an
Eastern imprint； but I could not wish to urge my misgiving against his
faith。 Was I not already richly successful？ What better thing
personally could befall me； if I lived forever after on milk and honey；
than to be sitting there with my hero； my master； and having him talk to
me as if we were equal in deed and in fame？
The cat…bird called in the syringa thicket at his door； before we said
the good…night which was good morning； using the sweet Italian words； and
bidding each other the 'Dorma bene' which has the quality of a
benediction。 He held my hand； and looked into my eyes with the sunny
kindness which never failed me； worthy or unworthy； and I went away to
bed。 But not to sleep； only to dream such dreams as fill the heart of
youth when the recognition of its endeavor has come from the achievement
it holds highest and best。
IV。
I found nothing to do in Ohio； some places that I heard of proved
impossible one way or another； in Columbus and Cleveland； and Cincinnati；
there was always the fatal partner； and after three weeks I was again in
the East。 I came to New York； resolved to fight my way in； somewhere；
and I did not rest a moment before I began the fight。
My notion was that which afterwards became Bartley Hubbard's。 〃Get a
basis；〃 said the softening cynic of the Saturday Press； when I advised
with him； among other acquaintances。 〃Get a salaried place； something
regular on some paper； and then you can easily make up the rest。〃 But it
was a month before I achieved this vantage； and then I got it in a
quarter where I had not looked for it。 I wrote editorials on European
and literary topics for different papers； but mostly for the Times； and
they paid me well and more than well； but I was nowhere offered a basis；
though once I got so far towards it as to secure a personal interview
with the editor…in…chief； who made me feel that I had seldom met so busy
a man。 He praised some work of mine that he had read in his paper； but I
was never recalled to his presence； and now I think he judged rightly
that I should not be a lastingly good journalist。 My point of view was
artistic； I wanted time to prepare my effects。
There was another and clearer prospect opened to me on a literary paper；
then newly come to the light； but long since gone out in the dark。 Here
again my work was taken； and liked so much that I was offered the basis
（at twenty dollars a week） that I desired； I was even assigned to a desk
where I should write in the office； and the next morning I came joyfully
down to Spruce Street to occupy it。 But I was met at the door by one of
the editors； who said lightly； as if it were a trifling affair； 〃Well；
we've concluded to waive the idea of an engagement；〃 and once more my
bright hopes of a basis dispersed themselves。 I said； with what calm
I could； that they must do what they thought best； and I went on
skirmishing baselessly about for this and the other papers which had been
buying my material。
I had begun printing in the 'Nation' those letters about my Italian
journeys left over from the Boston Advertiser； they had been liked in the
office； and one day the editor astonished and delighted me by asking how
I would fancy giving up outside work to come there and write only for the
'Nation'。 We averaged my gains from all sources at forty dollars a week；
and I had my basis as unexpectedly as if I had dropped upon it from the
skies。
This must have been some time in November； and the next three or four
months were as happy a time for me as I have ever known。 I kept on
printing my Italian material in the Nation； I wrote criticisms for it
（not very good criticisms； I think now）； and I amused myself very much
with the treatment of social phases and events in a department which grew
up under my hand。 My associations personally were of the most agreeable
kind。 I worked with joy； with ardor； and I liked so much to be there； in
that place and in that company； that I hated to have each day come to an
end。
I believed that my lines were cast in New York for good and all； and I
renewed my relations with the literary friends I had made before going
abroad。 I often stopped； on my way up town； at an apartment the
Stoddards had in Lafayette Place； or near it； I saw Stedman； and reasoned
high； to my heart's content； of literary things with them and him。
With the winter Bayard Taylor came on from his home in Kennett and took
an apartment in East Twelfth Street； and once a week Mrs。 Taylor and he
received all their friends there； with a simple and charming hospitality。
There was another house which we much resorted tothe house of James
Lorrimer Graham； afterwards Consul…General at Florence； where he died。
I had made his acquaintance at Venice thre