'honest pride and mutual love, not unworthy to look out 'upon the far-shining sea.

**Many, many sweet little things would I tell you, 'only they are so very little. I feel just now as if I could live and die here. I am out in the open air all the time, 'except about two hours in the early morning. And now 'the moon is fairly gone late in the evening. While she 6 was here, we staid out, too. Everything seems sweet 'here, so homely, so kindly; the old people chatting so 'contentedly, the young men and girls laughing together ' in the fields, not vulgarly, but in the true kinsfolk way, '— little children singing in the house and beneath the 'berry-bushes. The never-ceasing break of the surf is a 'continual symphony, calming the spirits which this 'delicious air might else exalt too much. Everything on 'the beach becomes a picture; the casting the seine, the 'ploughing the deep for seaweed. This, when they do 'it with horses, is prettiest of all; but when you see the oxen in the surf, you lose all faith in the story of Europa, 'as the gay waves tumble in on their lazy sides. The 'bull would be a fine object on the shore, but not, not in 'the water. Nothing short of a dolphin will do! Late 'to-night, from the highest Paradise rocks, seeing 'wandering, and the horsemen careering on the beach, so spectrally passing into nature, amid the pale, brood'ing twilight, I almost thought myself in the land of 'souls!

'But in the morning it is life, all cordial and common. "This half-fisherman, half-farmer life seems very favor'able to manliness. I like to talk with the fishermen ; 'they are not boorish, not limited, but keen-eyed, and of 'a certain rude gentleness. 'saw the sweetest picture.

Two or three days ago I
There is a very tall rock,

'one of the natural pulpits, at one end of the beach. 'As I approached, I beheld a young fisherman with his 'little girl; he had nestled her into a hollow of the rock, 'and was standing before her, with his arms round her, 'and looking up in her face. Never was anything so 'pretty. I stood and stared, country fashion; and pres'ently he scrambled up to the very top with her in his 'arms. She screamed a little as they went, but when 'they were fairly up on the crest of the rock, she 'chuckled, and stretched her tiny hand over his neck, to 'go still further. Yet, when she found he did not wish 'it, she leaned against his shoulder, and he sat, feeling 'himself in the child like that exquisite Madonna, and 'looking out over the great sea. Surely, the "kindred ""points of heaven and home" were known in his breast, 'whatever guise they might assume.

'The sea is not always lovely and bounteous, though 'generally, since we have been here, she has beamed her 'bluest. The night of the full moon we staid out on the 'far rocks. The afternoon was fair; the sun set nobly, 'wrapped in a violet mantle, which he left to the moon, 'in parting. She not only rose red, lowering, and of im'patient attitude, but kept hiding her head all the evening 'with an angry, struggling movement. said,

"This is not Dian;" and I replied, "No; now we see ""the Hecate." But the damp, cold wind came sobbing, 'and the waves began wailing, too, till I was seized with 'a feeling of terror, such as I never had before, even in 'the darkest, and most treacherous, rustling wood. The 'moon seemed sternly to give me up to the dæmons of 'the rock, and the waves to mourn a tragic chorus, till 'I felt their cold grasp. I suffered so much, that I feared 'we should never get home without some fatal catas

'trophe. Never was I more relieved than when, as we 'came up the hill, the moon suddenly shone forth. It 'was ten o'clock, and here every human sound is hushed, 'and lamp put out at that hour. How tenderly the 'grapes and tall corn-ears glistened and nodded! and the 'trees stretched out their friendly arms, and the scent of every humblest herb was like a word of love. The 'waves, also, at that moment put on a silvery gleam, 'and looked most soft and regretful. That was a real 'voice from nature.'

፡ February, 1842.-I am deeply sad at the loss of little 'Waldo, from whom I hoped more than from almost any 'living being. I cannot yet reconcile myself to the 'thought that the sun shines upon the grave of the 'beautiful blue-eyed boy, and I shall see him no more.

'Five years he was an angel to us, and I know not 'that any person was ever more the theme of thought to ( me. As I walk the streets they swarm with apparently ' worthless lives, and the question will rise, why he, why 'just he, who "bore within himself the golden future," 'must be torn away? His father will meet him again; 'but to me he seems lost, and yet that is weakness. I 'must meet that which he represented, since I so truly 'loved it. He was the only child I ever saw, that I 'sometimes wished I could have called mine.

'I loved him more than any child I ever knew, as he เ was of nature more fair and noble. You would be 'surprised to know how dear he was to my imagination. 'I saw him but little, and it was well; for it is unwise 'to bind the heart where there is no claim. But it is all 'gone, and is another of the lessons brought by each 'year, that we are to expect suggestions only, and not

'fulfilments, from each form of beauty, and to regard 'them merely as Angels of The Beauty.'

'June, 1842.- Why must children be with perfect 'people, any more than people wait to be perfect to be 'friends? The secret is, is it not?- for parents to feel 'and be willing their children should know that they are 'but little older than themselves; only a class above, and 'able to give them some help in learning their lesson. "Then parent and child keep growing together, in the 'same house. Let them blunder as we blundered. God 'is patient for us; why should not we be for them? As'piration teaches always, and God leads, by inches. A 'perfect being would hurt a child no less than an im'perfect.'

It always makes my annoyances seem light, to be 'riding about to visit these fine houses. Not that I am 'intolerant towards the rich, but I cannot help feeling at 'such times how much characters require the discipline 'of difficult circumstances. To say nothing of the need 'the soul has of a peace and courage that cannot be dis'turbed, even as to the intellect, how can one be sure of 'not sitting down in the midst of indulgence to pamper 'tastes alone, and how easy to cheat one's self with the 'fancy that a little easy reading or writing is quite work. 'I am safer; I do not sleep on roses. I smile to myself, 'when with these friends, at their care of me. I let 'them do as they will, for I know it will not last long 'enough to spoil me.'

'I take great pleasure in talking with Aunt Mary.* *Miss Rotch, of New Bedford.

'Her strong and simple nature checks not, falters not. 'Her experience is entirely unlike mine, as, indeed, is 'that of most others whom I know. No rapture, no 'subtle process, no slow fermentation in the unknown 'depths, but a rill struck out from the rock, clear and cool in all its course, the still, small voice. She says the 'guide of her life has shown itself rather as a restraining, 'than an impelling principle. I like her life, too, as far 'as I see it; it is dignified and true.'

'Cambridge, July, 1842.-A letter at Providence 'would have been like manna in the wilderness. I came 'into the very midst of the fuss,* and, tedious as it was at 'the time, I am glad to have seen it. I shall in future be ' able to believe real, what I have read with a dim disbelief 'of such times and tendencies. There is, indeed, little 'good, little cheer, in what I have seen a city full of 'grown-up people as wild, as mischief-seeking, as full of 'prejudice, careless slander, and exaggeration, as a herd 'of boys in the play-ground of the worst boarding-school. 'Women whom I have seen, as the domestic cat, gentle, 'graceful, cajoling, suddenly showing the disposition, if 'not the force, of the tigress. I thought I appreciated the monstrous growths of rumor before, but I never did. The Latin poet, though used to a court, has faintly 'described what I saw and heard often, in going the 'length of a street. It is astonishing what force, purity 'and wisdom it requires for a human being to keep clear 'of falsehoods. These absurdities, of course, are linked 'with good qualities, with energy of feeling, and with 'a love of morality, though narrowed and vulgarized by

*The Dorr rebellion.