I should not feel a residence in Michigan as a banishment. I am fond of a country life. But at present I see almost no hopes of usefulness there. Like all our new, and some of our old States, they have squandered the means they once possessed and encumbered themselves almost irretrievably with debt. On my return from Europe in the autumn of 1839, I received a letter stating that they had nothing yet for me to do, and permitting me to spend the winter in New York. In the spring of 1840, a committee of the regents wrote to me, to relinquish the provisional salary (of fifteen hundred dollars, on which I had been placed) for one year from that date, they relinquishing my services for that period and allowing me to devote my time to the “Flora,” etc. I at once accepted their proposal; but although another year has now elapsed since the expiration of the period to which they proposed to limit this agreement, not a word have I heard officially or unofficially from Michigan. I have quietly awaited the result, ready at any moment to obey their call; but having no income for the last two years, I have been greatly embarrassed, and have struggled through great difficulties, I scarcely know how. Notwithstanding, I have thought until recently that I ought not to seek any other situation. I shall now write to Michigan immediately, inquiring whether, in their present condition, they are ready to fulfill their engagements with me, or whether they would prefer to accept my resignation, which I shall offer. I expect, and on the whole hope, they will accept it. In December, or nearly the 1st of January last, a friend of mine here, who had some casual conversation with the President of Harvard University, wished me to let my name be known as a candidate for the vacant chair of natural history there. After reflecting for a week or two, I wrote to B. D. Greene[124] for some information on the subject, saying that, if freed from other engagements, I would like the botanical part of the professorship, but not the zoölogy: and that the former, with the charge and the renovation of the Botanic Garden, would be quite enough for one. In January I made a flying visit to Boston, where I had never been, and knew no one personally but Greene, to whom, and to Professor Bigelow,[125] I expressed my views; but we none of us expected that anything would be done at present. I incidentally learned, however, not long since, that the men of science would generally be well pleased to have me at Boston, and that some with whom I had almost no acquaintance were using their influence to that end. I was never more surprised, however, than this very evening, when I received from President Quincy an official letter, offering me the professorship provisionally, with a small salary, to be sure, for the present, but with only the duties of the botanical portion.