father's wife been kind, never to send me the least thing in the world, and yet she thinks she is entitled to the name of 'mother,' but I think she does not act 'mother-like!'
I have seen the fine park and the Queen's palace and the Queen's carriage, but they are not, all of them, worth a fig to see. The park, crowded with people like a fair, the palace, guarded everywhere with soldiers with their bayonets fixed; I would rather walk in a rural lane than in such places, where you can go so far and no farther, without being stopped by a soldier with a bayonet in his hand. There are fine seats under the trees for people to sit upon; but there are also great cannons stuck all about, and policemen here, there, and everywhere.
I like not the grandeur and misery of this great place, and picture to myself more beauty and happiness even on the wide, wide ocean, on which I shall soon be. The next time I write I will tell you all the wonders I see there. Till then, a long, long farewell. Give my love to mother, father, brothers, sisters and nephew.
Yours,
Note.—The relatives mentioned in this letter by my mother are all her husband's relations.
