found myself on a more extensive journey, for again feelings and thoughts became too much for me, and longed for utterance. To whom should I now write. I felt deeply the truth of a witty Frenchman's remark, “Oh how sweet is solitude! But one must however have somebody to whom one can say, ‘Oh how sweet is solitude!’ ”
This somebody I had hitherto had, but now!—My first inquiring glance found empty space, but my second showed me, thee, my R——.
Thou hast often, for a long time, been a kind, encouraging friend to me, on my way, thou hast exercised no inconsiderable influence upon my life, by giving me an inclination to write and to learn, and to travel that I might yet learn something more—why then, why should I not write to thee the impressions of my travel? why not keep a diary for thee? let it become afterwards whatever it might, a printed book, diary, descriptions of travels, novel, or even—nothing at all. In any case, I felt that it would be a pleasure to me to communicate to thee the inspirations of the moment, to present thee with the flowers and the fruits of my life of travel.
This thought gave a new interest to my journeyings, and thou, my R——, becamest, in this manner, my traveling companion, often an encouraging, strengthening friend by the way, without thou thyself knowing any thing about it, and thou hast been such for now upwards of four years.
My journey is now concluded, and my diary com-
