not possessed of that overflowing power which finds its vent in enthusiasm. That critical disposition belongs to old people, or to little people.
The letter from home, which I waited for here before I decided farther upon my journeyings, made me so unspeakably happy that I could not help hastening down to Rebecca, that I might talk to her about its beloved contents, and we embraced each other in the joy that it afforded, and because we could still remain together for awhile.
I shall now accompany the S.'s to Cony Island, an island in the neighbourhood of New York, where there is a bathing establishment, and of which I shall again avail myself. After that they will accompany me a short distance on my way to the West, up the Hudson, to the community of the Shakers at New Lebanon, where the young Lowells will meet me, and with them I shall go to Niagara. The S.'s are not able to go so far, although they would have liked it much. I shall not see my friends, the Downings, this time, for which I am sorry; but the last week of my stay in this country shall be reserved for them.
In Rose Cottage, in that good and almost perfect home, everything is good, peaceful, affectionate, as is its wont. Ripe fruits surround Rose Cottage—peaches, apricots, plums, grapes. All Brooklyn, and even New York, is at this moment like a fruiterer's shop, full of peaches and apricots: and such peaches!—the fruit of Hesperia. Every little lad and lass in the Union can eat their full of them. Eddy is happy with a whole swarm of little rabbits, and baby stands with its golden locks in the garden, and rejoices when the butterflies come and seat themselves on their thrones, that is to say, on the flowers. The sweet little fellow is, however, still delicate, and the parents go to the sea-side principally for his sake.
I have found Marcus and Rebecca, and many of my
