much to see my time so corrupt, but it would if I were in a false position.
‘ —— went out to his farm yesterday, full of cheer, as one who doeth a deed with sincere good will. He has shown a steadfastness and earnestness of purpose most grateful to behold. I do not know what their scheme will ripen to; at present it does not deeply engage my hopes. It is thus far only a little better way than others. I doubt if they will get free from all they deprecate in society.’
‘Paradise Farm, Newport, July, 1841. — Here are no
deep forests, no stern mountains, nor narrow, sacred
valleys; but the little white farm-house looks down
from its gentle slope on the boundless sea, and beneath
the moon, beyond the glistening corn-fields, is heard the
endless surge. All around the house is most gentle and
friendly, with many common flowers, that seem to have
planted themselves, and the domestic honey-suckle
carefully trained over the little window. Around are
all the common farm-house sounds, — the poultry making
a pleasant recitative between the carols of singing
birds; even geese and turkeys are not inharmonious
when modulated by the diapasons of the beach. The
orchard of very old apple-trees, whose twisted forms
tell of the glorious winds that have here held revelry,
protects a little homely garden, such as gives to me an
indescribable refreshment, where the undivided
vegetable plots and flourishing young fruit-trees, mingling
carelessly, seem as if man had dropt the seeds just
where he wanted the plants, and they had sprung up
at once. The family, too, look, at first glance,
well-suited to the place, — homely, kindly, unoppressed, of
