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But enough now, my sweet sister, of this poesy of morning. We will now have our dinner. Men of the two countries are invited, and yet a third, namely, the Swedish consul, from Boston, Mr. Benzon, who is coming to see me.

In the Evening. The day is ended, with its changing scenes and impressions. If I could only take every thing more coolly! But I am too ardent, too easily excited. Every impression goes directly to my heart, and there it remains too strongly impressed. I am alone in my room, and see from my window, through the dark yet star-bright night, the steam-boats which pass along the Hudson, and send forth from their chimneys sulphur-blue and yellow flames.

To-morrow morning I am going with the Downings to visit some of their best friends, a family of the name of H., who live on the Hudson, in the neighborhood of Washington Irving; and next week I return to New York, there to begin my campaign, for which this little taste of rural life and society is merely a prelude.

Among the people who, during this time, have come to see me are, in particular, a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. S., who came hither with their little baby from New York solely to offer me their house as my home when there. They were so beautiful and so earnestly kind; there appeared to me to be something so pure, so single-minded about them; they seemed to speak so entirely from their own honest hearts, that I was glad to accept their invitation, and to arrange to go to them before I took up my quarters in any other homes, as I had promised to do for a time: among others, that of Miss Lynch. It seems as if I should scarcely be obliged to pay any thing for my living in this country, if I am to continue being thus entertained. But I must not expect that it will be thus every where. Besides, it has its disadvantages, as well as its advantages and its great pleasures.

Mr. and Mrs. S., who are of the class called Socialists

and Abolitionists, and who belong to the Liberal Movement party in the country, are universally acknowledged to be remarkably noble and estimable people. "From them," said Mr. Downing, "you will hear what is going forward in this party, and you will probably see at their house William Henry Channing, one of our most distinguished lecturers and extempore speakers, and through him you may become acquainted with Emerson."

I can not tell you, my Agatha, how fortunate I esteem myself, that, immediately at the commencement of my visit here, I have come into contact with so profoundly thinking and so universally comprehensive a mind as that of Mr. Downing, and who, besides, is so indescribably kind to me, and so careful that I shall derive every possible advantage from my journey, and see every thing, both good and bad, in their true light. He never dictates, never instructs me, but now and then, and as if by chance, he mentions to me the names of persons who are active for the future of the New World in one way or another, and makes me observant of what is going on in the country. I notice, among other things, with what precision all branches of intellectual labor seem to be carried on; and how easily ability and talent make their way, find their place and their sphere of action, become known and acknowledged.

Mr. Downing has mentioned to me Horace Mann, as one of the persons who have most effectually labored for the future, as an individual who has brought about, by his enthusiasm and determination, a great reform in the work of instruction, who has labored for the erection of beautiful new schools in all parts of the country, and has infused a new life into the organization of schools. It appears that the reformers and the lecturers who develop the spiritual and intellectual life in America, and call forth its ideal, come from the Northern States, from New England, and in particular from Massachusetts, the oldest home of the pilgrims and the Puritans.

Of that which he himself has done, Mr. Downing speaks with the utmost modesty; but I heard from Miss Sedgwick that few men in the United States are so universally known, or so generally influential as he. His works on architecture, on gardening, on flowers and fruits-and all of which are calculated to ennoble the taste, to make the purest productions in their branches of science and art accessible to every man-these works are to be found every where, and nobody, whether he be rich or poor, builds a house or lays out a garden without consulting Downing's works. Every young couple who sets up housekeeping buys them.

"It happens," said Mr. Downing, modestly, "that I came at a time when people began universally to feel the necessity of information about building houses and laying out gardens."

He is what people call here "a self-made man," that is to say, a man who has less to thank education for what he is than his own endeavors. "He is one of our best men," said Miss Sedgwick.

It will readily be supposed that it was painful to me to leave him and his truly sweet and kind little wife. Mr. Downing has drawn up for me a proposed route of travel -the plan of a journey for one year through the United States, as well as furnished me with letters to his friends in the different states. I still had a deal to say to you about my happiness in being here, my happiness in the new vitality which seems given to me, although I feel that the outer life is a little wearisome sometimes; and I expect to have to pay for it one of these days. But ah! how few there are who have to complain of having too many objects of interest, of experiencing too much goodwill! My beloved Agatha, think of me in thy prayers; and that I know thou dost, and thank God for me that He has so abundantly fulfilled my secret prayers, has satisfied my hunger and my thirst, and nourished me with His riches and His goodness!

In the Morning. Yet once more a greeting froin the beautiful banks of the Hudson from the heights of Newburgh, before I leave them, perhaps forever. Mr. Downing says, indeed, that I must return to them next year; but it is long till then, and I must travel far and see very much.

Again a beautiful morning. The river is bright as a mirror; hundreds of little vessels glide softly, like swimming sea-gulls, on the bosom of the water between the lofty hills. I wonder how they are able to move. The wind seems to sleep. Over the river and the mountains, over the golden woods, which assume every day a yet more golden hue, over the white glittering villages with their church spires, and in the bosom of the wooded hills, rests the thin, white, misty veil of the Indian summer. is a scene of which the character is grand and calmly romantic. I feel and see it, but not merely in external nature. This Indian summer, with its mystical life, its thin veil cast over the golden woods and mountains-I feel it in my soul. I look around me on nature, and ask, "Is it I who live in thee, or dost thou awaken this life in my soul?"

It

I see the beautiful, well-built little houses, with their orchards and grounds, which lie like pearls set in the emerald green frame of the river! How much is contained in them of that which is most valuable in the life of the New World! How beautiful and perfect seems here private life, engrafted as it is into public life; and what a pleasure it is to me that I have become acquainted with many of the families inhabiting these small homes on the banks of this great and glorious river!

Not far from Mr. Downing's villa is a beautiful country seat, inhabited by four sisters, all unmarried. A good brother, who had become wealthy by trade, built this house, and bought the land around it for his sisters. Some years afterward, the brother fell into misfortunes: he lost

all that he was possessed of. The sisters now took upon themselves the education of his children-he has now his home with them. They are excellent and agreeable women, who know equally well how to converse seriously or merrily. On the other side of the river, a brickmaker has built himself a lovely villa. This honorable man-for so he seems to be, and so he really is-has been here two or three times to present me with flowers, and invite me to his villa. Mr. Downing has called my attention to a beautiful little house, a frame house, with green veranda and garden, just in this neighborhood. "It belongs," said he, "to a man who in the day drives cart-loads of stone and rubbish for making the roads. In this is the workingman of the New World superior to him of the Old. He can here, by the hard labor of his hands, obtain the more refined pleasures of life, a beautiful home, and the advantages of education for his family, much more quickly. And here he may obtain these if he will. In Europe the greater number of work-people can not obtain them, do what they will.

At this moment an explosion thunders from the other side of the Hudson, and I see huge blocks of stone hurled into the air, and then fall into the water, which foams and boils in consequence: it is a rock which is being blasted with gunpowder on a line of rail-way now in progress along the banks of the river, and where the power of steam on land will compete with the power of steam on water. To hurl mountains out of the way; to bore through them; to form tunnels; to throw mountains into the water, as a foundation for roads in places where it is necessary for it to go over the water; all this these Americans regard as nothing. They have a faith to remove mountains.

Now come the steam-boats thundering like tempest in the mountains. Two or three chase each other like immense meteors; one among them comes along heavily,

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