Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - New York, Ninth Street, Thursday, November 15
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own time make for itself a path to praise and
renown.
This evening Miss Lynch was going to have a
large party, where I was to be introduced to people,
and people were to be introduced to me, and I
drove therefore to the house to act the parrot in a
large crowd till toward midnight. These introductions
are very wearisome; a hundred times I
must reply to the same questions, and these for the
most part of an unmeaning, trivial character, just
as people would put to a parrot, whose answers
are known beforehand; for example: Had you a
good passage from England? How do you like
New York? How do you like America? How
long have you been here? How long do you expect
to remain? Where are you going from here? and
such like.
Such fêtes as these are one’s ruin! And, in the
meantime, I am taken up with visits, letters, notes,
invitations, and autographs, so that I have no time
for myself. This morning I had a charming visit
from a little lady doctor, that is to say, a lady who
practices the healing art, a Miss Hunt, “female
physician,” as she calls herself, from Boston, who
invited me to her home, insisted that I must come,
would not let me escape until I had promised, and
was all the time so full of animation and so
irresistibly merry that we, she and I and the whole
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