perhaps ‘The American Harp,’ and it is you that I have to thank for the present!” For here be it known, I had wished not to meet the authoress of a book written in the style of “The Sorrowful Certainties,” because the authoress had mentioned in her epistle, that it had been much praised in the Cape May newspapers, and I could not say anything of it butpossessed!
The good intention of the verses, however, deserved my thanks, and I now gave them quite properly.
“But,” asked the Harp, “have you read the book?”
“No, not yet; I have merely looked into it.”
“Indeed! but read it through; because it is a book which the more it is read the better it is liked; and I have written it all, both prose and verse; it is altogether mine. I have written a deal of verse; and think of bringing out a collection of my poetical works; but it is very expensive to bring out such!”
I said that I supposed it must be so.
“Yes,” said she, “but I write verses very easily, in particular where there is water; and I like to write about water. I am so very fond of water. Is there much water in Sweden?”
“Yes, a great deal,” replied I, “both of sea, and rivers, and lakes.”
“I should like to write there, I should be able to write there very well!” said she. “I should like to write in Sweden!”
I said that the voyage thither was dreadfully difficult and long—it was a thing hardly thought of!
“Ah, but I should not trouble myself about that,” she said; “I am so fond of the water!—and could write a deal in SwedenSee there! now my parasol has fallen! and the handle is broken; yes, that is what I expected. Yesterday I broke my spectacles with the gold frame, and now I must use my silver ones! I am always breaking something!—however I have not yet broken my neck!”
