My  dear  Hawthorne,  —  People  think  that  if
a  man  has  undergone  any  hardship,  he  should  have
a  reward ;  but  for  my  part,  if  I  have  done  the
hardest  possible  day's  work,  and  then  come  to  sit
down  in  a  corner  and  eat  my  supper  comfortably
—  why,  then  I  don't  think  I  deserve  any  reward

156


LENOX

for  my  hard  day's  work  —  for  am  I  not  now  at
peace  ?  Is  not  my  supper  good  ?  My  peace  and
my  supper  are  my  reward,  my  dear  Hawthorne.
So  your  joy-giving  and  exultation-breeding  letter
is  not  my  reward  for  my  ditcher's  work  with  that
book,  but  is  the  good  goddess's  bonus  over  and
above  what  was  stipulated  for  —  for  not  one  man
in  five  cycles,  who  is  wise,  will  expect  appreciative
recognition  from  his  fellows,  or  any  one  of  them.
Appreciation  !  Recognition  !  Is  love  appreciated  ?
Why,  ever  since  Adam,  who  has  got  to  the  mean-
ing of  his  great  allegory  —  the  world }  Then  we
pygmies  must  be  content  to  have  our  paper  alle-
gories but  ill  comprehended.  I  say  your  apprecia-
tion is  my  glorious  gratuity.  In  my  proud,  humble
way,  —  a  shepherd-king,  —  I  was  lord  of  a  little
vale  in  the  solitary  Crimea ;  but  you  have  now
given  me  the  crown  of  India.  But  on  trying  it  on
my  head,  I  found  it  fell  down  on  my  ears,  notwith-
standing their  asinine  length  —  for  it 's  only  such
ears  that  sustain  such  crowns.
Your  letter  was  handed  me  last  night  on  the
road  going  to  Mr.  Morewood's,  and  I  read  it  there.
