when this heat shall have continued four or five months and seems as if it never would come to an end, then—”
No wonder that so many young ladies here seem pale and languishing.
Vegetation is in its highest glory, and the woods are splendidly in flower. The Indian-pride tree, the French-tree, the tulip-tree, the magnolia, shoot forth their splendid fragrant flowers. In the gardens roses and orange-blossom fill the air with perfume the fruit of the nectarine is set, and the fig-tree bears ripe fruit. People enjoy themselves, but with a languid animation. The evenings are the most beautiful part of the day, and my greatest enjoyment is to walk slowly backwards and forwards on the upper piazza, shaded by the trellised roses, and fanned by breezes from the river.
June 11th.—In the morning I shall leave this good home and this amiable family for ever. It is painful to me to say so, but so it is. I have spent delightful hours and days this time, also with them and with some other friends in Charleston. I have again infinitely enjoyed the society of Mrs. H., wandering with her in the myrtle-groves at Belmont for one whole beautiful day, and in conversation on subjects which deepen and expand life at the same time. Mrs. H. has more imagination than I have, and her poetical feeling, united to an intellect of no ordinary grasp, which, taking its stand on the earth, comprehends the universal relationship of all things, and which at the same time derives its aliment from a religious centre based on Christianity, makes my intercourse with her highly enlivening and beneficial.
I have received from many kind friends renewed proofs of their stedfast warm-heartedness, and from the noble Unitarian minister, Mr. Gilman, a blessing which I have placed within my heart. When I was one day making a sketch of his pure, ascetic countenance, I asked him, “At what age have you felt yourself most happy?”
