ever. I shall always, in recalling it, think of the fountains of eternal youth. I am satisfied to leave it, but would wish to come once more to see the fall in its winter magnificence, when it crowns itself with flowers and fruits and a thousand fantastic adornments of ice; when the full moon shines and spans it with the lunar-bow. We shall see! But I am nevertheless infinitely thankful to have seen Niagara. Its quiet grandeur and power, its colour, its spray, the rainbow's sport in that white cloudy figure—all this is and will remain a clear, living image in my soul. And that eternal fulness of nature's heart here—ah! that the human heart might resemble it, perpetually filled anew, perpetually flowing, never weary, never scanty, never dried up!
My young friends, James and Maria,—it grieved me to part from them; my amiable, lovely, charming Maria, looked at me with mournful glances, and but now we must be off! My young friends accompany me to Buffalo. A kiss, my beloved, from Niagara; the next letter from Chicago.
LETTER XXIV.
Here, upon the south-western shore of Lake Michigan, sits your sister, my little Agatha, not, however, upon the sandy shore, but in a pretty villa, built in the Italian style, with Corinthian pillars, surrounded by beautiful trees and flowers.
It was in the market of Buffalo, amid horses and carriages, and throngs of people buying and selling, passing hither and thither, amid chests and all sorts of baggage, amid crowds and bustle, that I parted from my young friends, who had become dear to me almost as
