the whole world. One day Mr. Longfellow came and took me to dine with them at his—father-in-law's I believe (you know that my strength never lay in genealogy), Mr. A.'s. This was on the first of the beautiful days, and as soon as I came out of my gate I stood quite amazed at the beauty of the sky and the deliciousness of the air. I told the amiable poet that I thought it must have been himself that had enchanted them.
The A.'s is one of the most beautiful homes I have yet seen in Boston; the elderly couple are both handsome; he an invalid, but with the most kind and amiable temper; she, cheerful both body and soul, and very agreeable. With them and the Longfellows I had a charming little dinner.
On Monday the Longfellows had a cast taken of my hand in plaster of Paris; for here, as elsewhere, it is a prevailing error that my hands are beautiful, whereas they are only delicate and small. When I returned I found my room full of people. N.B., it was my reception-day, and I had stayed out beyond my time. But I was all the more polite, and I fancy that no one was displeased. I felt myself this day to be a regular philanthrope; thus the people stayed till past three o'clock.
When my visitors were gone the young Lowells came for the first time since their loss, and Maria set down upon the floor a basket full of the most beautiful mosses and lichens, which she and James had gathered on the hill for me, as they knew I was fond of them. This affected me sincerely; and it affected me also to see again the same kind of plants which I myself had gathered on the hill in the park at Årsta, and I could not help it—I watered them with tears; my soul is like a heaving sea, the waves of which flow and ebb alternately. But they are swayed in both cases by the same element.
Yesterday afternoon Waldo Emerson called on me, and
