two single graves; no flowers, nothing which testifies of life, of memory, or of love. All was dead; all stony, all desolate: for neither were there here any living beings beside ourselves. Wherever we walked, we walked between walled graves and tombs; wherever we turned, the eye encountered tombs and bare walls, with nothing over them, with no background, except the clear, blue heaven, for it was bright above the city of the dead. I thus wandered through there immense grave-yards; it was the greatest contrast which could be imagined to the scene of the morning.
To-morrow I shall accompany Mr. and Mrs. G. to Mobile in Alabama, whither I am invited by Mrs. W. Le V., whom I have often heard spoken of as a very charming and much-celebrated “belle” both in the north and south of the United States. We shall travel by steam-boat across Lake Pontchartrain, and into the Gulf of Mexico, on the banks of which Movilla, now Mobile, is situated.
Summer, summer, perfect midsummer weather, my little Agatha! Oh! that I could by some magical power transport you to this air, or this air to you, for it would make you strong and happy, as happy as it has made me for the last few days. Ever since the fourth of January, when the weather changed from horrible to enchanting, and yet it had begun to clear up two days before, I have been in a sort of astonishment at such air, and such a delicious sensation as it occasions; and if I only had you here to enjoy it, I should want nothing more.
I left New Orleans on Monday afternoon, in company with the estimable Swedenborgian Mr. G. and his amiable and truly agreeable lady. It was the most beautiful evening, and the sun-set was glorious on Lake Pontchartrain, a large lake which empties itself into the
