A. Bronson Alcott writes to his wife Abigail:
I am not wholly out of place and away and in this mansion, and, as, third and last Henry Thoreau is to be here surveying and to read something to a circle of [Marston] Watson’s neighbors on Sunday next, and so into the week, they have persuaded me somewhat against my sense of duty to you and the Girls to remain and see him back to Boston sometime in the week, by Wednesday say, or Thursday at farthest, I should think; and you may then expect me.
(The Letters of A. Bronson Alcott, 185-186)
