I have much regretted a sudden note I wrote you just before the
steamer of 1 September sailed, entreating you to cumber yourself
about my proofsheets sent to the London bookseller. I heartily
absolve you from all such vexations. Nothing could be more
inconsiderate. Mr. Chapman is undoubtedly amply competent to
ordinary correction, and I much prefer to send you my little book
in decent trim than in rags and stains and deformities more than
its own. I have just corrected and sent to the steamer the last
sheets for Mr. Chapman, who is to find English readers if he can.
I shall ask Mr. Chapman to send you a copy, for his edition will
be more correct than mine. What can I tell you better? Why even
this, that this house rejoices in a brave boy, now near three
months old. Edward we call him, and my wife calls him Edward
Waldo. When shall I show him to you? And when shall I show you
a pretty pasture and wood-lot which I bought last week on the
borders of a lake which is the chief ornament of this town,
called Walden Pond? One of these days, if I should have any
money, I may build me a cabin or a turret there high as the tree-
tops, and spend my nights as well as days in the midst of a
beauty which never fades for me.
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