Often，thenightswereverycold，andasIreturnedhomefromCraigieHousetothecarpenter’sboxonSacramentoStreet，amileortwoaway，Iwasasifsoul—bornethroughtheairbymyprideandjoy，whilethefrozenblocksofsnowclinkedandtinkledbeforemyfeetstumblingalongthemiddleoftheroad。Istillthinkthatwastherichestmomentofmylife，andIlookbackatitasthemoment，inalifenotunblessedbychance，whichIwouldmostliketoliveoveragain——ifImustliveany。
ThenextwinterthesessionsoftheDanteClubweretransferredtothehouseofMr。Norton，whowasthencompletinghisversionofthe’VitaNuova’。ThishasalwaysseemedtomeaworkofnotlessgracefulartthanLongfellow’stranslationofthe’Commedia’。Infact，itjoinstheeffectofasympathyalmostmountingtodivinationwithapatientscholarshipandadelicateskillunknowntomeelsewhereinsuchwork。
IdonotknowwhetherMr。Nortonhassatisfiedhimselfbetterinhisproseversionofthe’Commedia’thaninthisofthe’VitaNuova’，butI
donotbelievehecouldhavesatisfiedDantebetter，unlesshehadrhymedhissonnetsandcanzonets。Iamsurehemighthavedonethisifhehadchosen。Hehasalwayspretendedthatitwasimpossible，butmiraclesareneverimpossibleintherighthands。
V。