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bonnet and traveling dress. They took their places side by side at the bottom of the room, a venerable old clergyman stepped forward to the young couple, and—they were united in holy wedlock forever by a short prayer, a short admonition, and a short benediction. Friends and relations then came forward, and kissed and congratulated the new-married pair; I also went forward, leaning on the father's arm, kissed the bride, and shook hands with he young husband. He looked happy and perfectly self-pssessed. She also looked pleased, and, besides that, very pretty; nay, she would have appeared really handsome if she had been in bridal attire, and not dressed as for a journey, and that evidently less with regard to looking handsome than to the rainy weather in which the newmarried couple would commence their journey through life; that is to say, immediately after the marriage ceremony they would set sail for Niagara, and must therefore hasten away to the steam-boat. Champagne and cake was handed round.

One saw the bridal presents arranged upon a table; they were looked at, and each wedding guest received a little pasteboard box, tied round with white ribbon, in which was a piece of bride-cake. After that every one set off, even the young couple, they to return, after a few weeks' pleasure tour, to reside with the parents. It all took place in the twinkling of an eye.

This marriage ceremony seemed to me characteristic of that haste and precipitation for which I have often heard the Americans reproached. Life is short, say they, and therefore they hurry along its path, dispensing with all needless forms and fashions which might impede the necessary business of life, and perform even this as rapidly as possible, making five minutes suffice to be married in, and receiving even the marriage benediction in traveling costume, that they may instantly set off on a jour ay— to Niagara, or somewhere else.

But I must acknowledge that on this occasion it was merely the form which was hurried. It was evident that earnestness lay at the bottom of every heart, and even the short marriage blessing bore the impression of deep and solemn earnestness. One could easily see that it was not a matter of jest, not a matter of passing interest, but one of great importance. Many persons were affected; some wept they thought, probably, of the former marriage in this family. The old servant, a negro, who handed about refreshments, had one of those countenances in which may be read a whole volume of the inner life of the family, and which shows that it is a life of affection, in which the servant feels himself to be a member of the family.

Many people disapprove of these marriages in traveling attire, and at the moment of setting out for a journey, and insist on their being conducted with greater solemnity. Nor are they the only customary mode here. They have also evening marriages, when the bride is dressed pretty much as with us, and every thing is conducted with about the same solemnity, with the exception of exhibiting the bride to the people, surrounded by lights, marshals, and bridemaids, as is usual with us in Sweden, and I believe in Sweden alone.

Saturday, Oct. 20th. I have not now written for several days; the time having been occupied by many people, and many engrossing engagements. I shall now, however, note down the more important of the late occurrences. Hitherto I have not received any letter. I long, I long, so much!

I have greatly enjoyed this period of my new life, and the Hesperian fruits; and whether it is the effect of these or of the New World's youthful, lively atmosphere (we have had for some time the most beautiful weather), or of the new impressions which daily flow in upon me, but I feel the strings of life vibrate, as it were, more strongly, and my pulse beat at times almost feverishly. I feel myself VOL. I.-B

to be drinking nectar spiritually and bodily; it is a divine drink, but almost too potent for a weak mortal, at least as an every-day beverage. The excess of social intercourse is also too exciting, however charming and agreeable it may be. Mr. and Mrs. Downing, who have no children, seem to live for the beautiful and the agreeable in life amid a select circle of friends and neighbors, who for the most part reside on the lovely banks of the Hudson, and a cheerful and unembarrassed social intercourse seems to characterize the life of this circle. They are continually visiting one another. The banks of the Hudson are now in all the pomp of autumn, and the foliage of the woods which clothe the shores and the heights, and which consist of a great variety of trees, is now brilliant with the most splendid variation of color, from light yellow to intense scarlet; but it is too gorgeous and chaotic a splendor to be truly agreeable to my eye, which requires more uniformity of color.

Of fruit there is here the greatest abundance; the most beautiful peaches, although their season is properly over; pears, plums, grapes-that is to say, hot-house grapes, and many other. The Downings' table is ornamented every day with a basket filled with the most glorious fruitreally Hesperian-and beautiful flowers arranged with the most exquisite taste. The breakfasts here, in the country, are much more substantial than with us in Sweden. Besides coffee and tea, the table is supplied with fish, fresh meat, buckwheat cakes, omelets, and so on. Besides which, here is bread of Indian corn, and a kind of sweet potato, which is peculiar to the country, and which is an extremely good and palatable fruit. It is long, soft, and mealy, yellow and very sweet. It is commonly brought to table unpeeled, and is eaten with butter. At dinner there is meat, in the same way as in England, together with various vegetables and fruit peculiar to America. In the afternoon but little is eaten; they have commonly

tea, and bread and butter or tea-bread, and after that preserved fruits, mostly peach, and cream. One custom, which appears to me to be especially excellent, is to place little tables beside the guests, one to each two persons, before the tea is handed round. In this way people place themselves together, two and two, and have the most delicious little tête-à-tête, and that you know I am very fond of. I can not converse well except when tête-à-tête.

My happiest hours here are those which I spend alone in the forenoon, in my own room, with American books which Mr. Downing lends me, and those passed in the evening with my host and hostess, sitting in the little darkened parlor with book-cases and busts around us, and the fire quietly glimmering in the large fireplace. There, by the evening lamp, Mr. Downing and his wife read to me by turns passages from their most esteemed American poets. The books I afterward carry with me up into my chamber; in this way I have become acquainted with Bryant, Lowell, and Emerson, all of them representatives, in however dissimilar a manner, of the life of the New World. Bryant sings especially of its natural life, of its woods, its prairies, its peculiar natural scenes and phenomena-and his song breathes the quiet, fresh inspiration of natural life. One feels the sap circulating through the growth of the tree, and the leaves shooting forth. His "Thaunatopsis," or night song, is a largely conceived, although a short poem, in which the whole earth is regarded as a huge burial-place. Lowell is inspired by the great social questions of the New World, by the ideal life. of the New World, which he calls forth into existence in his songs about freedom, about the bliss of a free and contented noble life, and about the honor and beauty of labor. Again and again I beg Mr. Downing to read to me that beautiful little poem, "The Poor Man's Son," which charms me by its melody, and by its impartial spirit-which is moral melody, and by that cheerful truth

which it utters in the prospects for the poor man's son on the soil of the New World. Would that I could translate for you that beautiful poem, and that Mr. Downing could read it to you with his musical voice! His little wife, Caroline, prefers reading a short epic poem, called "Sir Launfall's Vision." Lowell's ideas are purely moral, and a deep vein of religious feeling runs through them. One of his most beautiful songs, in which burns a strong and noble patriotism, is directed against a political measure in Congress favorable to the maintenance of slavery in the United States. By this and many anti-slavery songs has this young poet taken his place among the leaders of that great party in the country which calls itself Abolitionist, and which insists upon the abolition of slavery. He must express himself in verse-he does not make the verse, he sings it, and in his song there is that overflowing sentiment which makes the heart overflow, and the mind spread forth her wings.

Emerson, rather a philosopher than poet, yet poetical in his prose philosophical essays, strikes me as a new and peculiar character, the most unusual of the three. He seems to me as an American Thorild, who, by his own strong, powerful nature, would transform the world, seeking for law and inspiration merely within his own breast. Strong and pure, self-collected and calm, but at the same time fantastical, he puts forth from his transcendental point of view aphorisms on nature and history, on God (whom he does not regard as a personal God, but as a superior soul in harmony with laws) and on men, criticising men and their works from the ideal of the highest truth and the highest beauty. "The world," says Emerson, "has not seen a man," and he looks forward with longing to that man, the man of the New World, in whose advent he believes. What this new man shall really be, and what he is to do, is somewhat undecided-merely that he shall be true and beautiful, and further, I suspect,

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