It is unfortunate for me to be hindered by the state of my health, as I had plans I wanted to set about at once, of my own. It is imperative for me to be earning money regularly, for an income, as I have never quite accumulated it into the thousands. My recent little books, for the past four years, have been more profitable than before, and I can see one or two more as possibilities, if I could put myself down to the work. I mention all this to show you how I am situated, as to doing what you suggest. Then there is one other thing,--Mr. Whittier many times said to me, apparently in earnest and jest, both,--“Don’t thee ever go writing about me!” It used to hurt me a little, as if I would parade his friendship for me in any way! I could not do, after he died, what I would not when he was alive,--unless I knew he was willing,--and he never hinted any wish of the kind, certainly. I have already been asked to furnish “Recollections” for two periodicals, and have declined. I may be over-particular in this matter, but I do feel a delicacy about it,--almost as if I had not the right. I write just as the matter looks to me now, and with the sincerest wish to honor our dear friend’s memory. Tell me your view of it! Yours sincerely, LUCY LARCOM. TO FRANKLIN CARTER. 214 COLUMBUS AVENUE, BOSTON, January 10, 1893. DEAR FRANK,--I have just finished reading the life of Dr. Mark Hopkins, and think it a most interesting record of a grand life. I thank you for sending it to me. I could not help thinking, as I read, how full our country is of noble men of whom we know nothing, or very little. I knew Dr. Hopkins was an able man, but he was only a name to me until I read your book. But of course he was a very unusual man. How grateful and glad you must be that he was your teacher, and that you could tell his story so well! I have known little of you, and you of me, for several years. I have felt that the years of work could not be many for me, and so I have been hard at work writing, that I might give something to those who could receive from me, before I died. I do not know whether you have seen my little books or not. I have published three in the last two years. The two prose books I thought I had a call to write, and the response they have received has shown that I was not wholly wrong. Perhaps I have given myself too closely to writing, for I am far from well. Careful medical examination shows that I have organic heart-disease, which will need to be watched carefully in the future; I shall have to go slowly hereafter. Yet I have many plans that I want to carry out; and it is as necessary now as ever for me to earn my daily bread. But I am not in the least bit anxious. The kind of writing I do, does not bring much money, and I am not desirous of writing the kind that does.