“I have seen R. Maclaughlin, and he sends his love to Henry. Tell George Whitney that the store boy sends his love to him. I do the same, and also to Edwin Williams, Mr. Fay, S. and A. Hawkings, and all the good people of old Stockbridge.
“Uncle Beales and his daughter arrived here last night.
“Mr. Mark Hopkins came from Stockbridge this morning. No letters.
“Take good care of mother, and tell her she must not get overdone.
“All send their love. Love to all.
“From your affectionate son,
“Cyrus.”
He does not speak of his loneliness, although we know that it was great, for his mother’s last words to another son, who was going to New York a few weeks later, were, “Bring Cyrus home if he is still so homesick.”
It was on one of his first Sundays in New York that, after he had been to church, and gone to his brother David’s for dinner, his unhappiness was apparent to the family and also to Dr. Mark Hopkins, their guest, whose sympathy was never forgotten, nor his words, “I would not give much for a boy if he were not homesick on leaving home.” He has said that many of the evenings during the long summer that followed his coming to New York were passed on the banks of the Hudson watching the boats as they sailed northward, and as he lay by the riverside he pictured himself as on board of one of the vessels, and the welcome that he would receive on reaching Stockbridge.
Towards the end of his life Mr. Field began the preparation of his autobiography. From so much of this as serves the purpose of this narrative, extracts will be made from time to time without express credit.
In 1835 it took twenty-four hours to go from Stockbridge to New York, and first there was a drive of fifty miles to Hudson on the river, and then a long sail by boat.