LETTER XII.
Ah that I could but fly away and cast a glance into my home and see how it is with my Agatha and mamma! But ah! “that cannot be, your grace!” said the duck, and therefore I must sit dull and silent as a duck, and enjoy myself by hoping and trusting that you are advancing with great strides on the path of improvement, and that you are becoming more and more like Taglioni in agility and grace. May it be so, my little heart! and may everything be well at home!
Things have gone splendidly with me. I arrived this morning, after a voyage of three days and nights, expecting to have found here full summer, and somewhat annoyed, instead of that, to find the weather cold and grey, and to be obliged to go about in winter clothing. But it cannot last long. The trees, for all the streets are planted with trees, are already clothed in tender green; roses, lilies, and orange-blossoms beckon from terraces and gardens, and the sun begins to break through the clouds. Probably, in the morning, it will be real summer again.
The weather during the last days of my stay at Brooklyn was wild and winterly, and the day I went on board was icy-cold; one saw ice and icicles everywhere; the sharp wind was full of icicles. The good, amiable Marcus and Rebecca, with their two eldest children, the angelic Eddie and the merry little Jenny, accompanied me on board. Marcus carried my luggage, spoke to the captain and to the stewardess for me, and arranged everything.
I was so overwhelmed by introductions to strange people
