beautiful form appears (she always is dressed in white) she seems to be a messenger of peace.
Madame C. was born in San Domingo, of French parents, who fled thither from France, during the reign of terror. During the bloody tumults of San Domingo, she and her family were saved by the devoted zeal of faithful slaves. During the beautiful evenings of my stay in the house of this excellent woman, and which we spend on the piazza, or in quietly wandering in the palm-groves of the plantation, she has related to me many episodes from the romantic history of herself and her relatives; and she has no idea how much I am captivated by those traits of an unusually gifted and profoundly intelligent soul, which presented themselves the while, without herself understanding their beauty and their unusual character. We often converse, and her son Sidney with us, on more general topics, especially connected with history, and compare remarkable characters and incidents from the histories of different countries, and I do not make any bad figure in this way, with my Swedish men and women. We talk, we think, we paint together; we are very merry together; and I cannot help grieving before-hand, in having so soon to leave this place. Here I could live without suffering from what I see most nearly surrounding me, and here I could become so attached, and here I could draw and paint so much!
Madame C. draws and paints flowers, butterflies, and all natural objects remarkably well, because she maintains the utmost fidelity to nature, and draws with intelligence; during her misfortunes (she lost her husband, Marqués C., and her youngest son by cholera, and suffered greatly in property by the late hurricanes,) she lost her inclination for these cheerful occupations; but the delight I have in natural objects and my fever for drawing, have revived it in her, and if I could remain here some months we should make together a beautiful album of the flowers
