This
number of _The Atlantic_ will relieve from it a hundred friends of
mine who have been sadly wounded by that notion now for years--but I
shall not be likely ever to show my head there again.
No! My double has undone me.
We left town at seven the next morning. I came to No. 9, in the Third
Range, and settled on the Minister's Lot, In the new towns in Maine,
the first settled minister has a gift of a hundred acres of land. I am
the first settled minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina are my
parish. We raise corn enough to live on in summer. We kill bear's meat
enough to carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on my _Traces of
Sandemanianism in the Sixth and Seventh Centuries_, which I hope to
persuade Phillips, Sampson & Co. to publish next year. We are very
happy, but the world thinks we are undone.
A VISIT TO THE ASYLUM FOR AGED AND DECAYED PUNSTERS
By Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894)
[From _The Atlantic Monthly_, January, 1861. Republished in _Soundings
from the Atlantic_ (1864), by Oliver Wendell Holmes, whose authorized
publishers are the Houghton Mifflin Company.
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