you are not to despise. To be able to see by them exactly how things are at home, that is my wish, whether it be cloudy or bright, and your letters can give me nothing more precious than the simple truth—than the reality as it is. And my little Agatha, bear in mind as much as possible that spring and summer will return—that the sun is behind the cloud and will come forth in his due time. That is an old song, but I have often experienced its truth, and I do so now.
We have here a perfectly Swedish winter, and to-day it is as grey and cold as we ever could have it at Stockholm. And it is a little satisfaction to me not to have it better than my friends in Sweden. I am most excellently well off at Benzon's house, and it is a satisfaction to pay something towards my living, though that is not done till Mr. Benzon leaves for Europe, which he will do on Wednesday. He will not however reach Stockholm before May or June. He will then call on mamma and you and convey greetings from me.
Yesterday forenoon I had my reception, between twelve and four o'clock, and saw a whole crowd of people, and received a great number of invitations. Among these was one from a lady with whom I would gladly become more intimate; this was a Mrs. B., a young and affluent widow with one child, a splendid little girl. She looked so good, so very much like a gentlewoman, was so agreeable and so unspeakably amiable towards me; she wished merely, she said, that I should be benefited by her, that she might drive me out, and endeavour to give me all the pleasure she could in the most delicate and agreeable manner. I should like it; in her nothing repels, but much pleases me. We could sit side by side in the carriage and be silent, and of that I am very fond.
I have also been present at one of the “Conversations” of Alcott, the Transcendentalist, and have even taken some
