And now I am with them, as happy as it is possible for me to be so far from my beloved; here I am with this beloved, rose-coloured family, always alike good, alike couleur de rose; and all my friends from New York come to kiss me, to shake hands with me, and to say, “how do you do?” Lively, cordial, fresh, impulsive people are these people of the New World; there is no denying that! And your letter, among dozens of others, to welcome me here! But ah! that it should be so cold and cheerless with you. It is very unworthy of Madame Svea to permit such weather in June! But now, now you must have sunshine enough, even in Sweden. I am preparing for my homeward journey, but am out of breath when I think of all I have yet to do before I can leave. I am now on my way to Boston, and thence to the White Mountains, to Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, &c.
I commence my journey in the morning, going from one friend to another, the whole length of the way. But it will not be before the commencement of September that I can be ready to leave America. But then I will leave it. Ah! I hardly dare to think about it, so painful will the parting be to me. When autumn comes in Sweden then shall I be with my beloved! Mamma must propitiate St. Brigitta that she give me a prosperous voyage over the great sea!
Great changes have taken place around Rose Cottage and its peaceful environs since I was last there, that is to say, since last year. Above a hundred houses, certainly, have sprung up around it in all directions, and a regular street runs now in front of its little park. When I first came to Rose Cottage it stood in the country, now it lies in the very middle of the city. It is a good thing that there is yet a deal of space, and many trees around the house to preserve free breathing-room.
