have seldom heard narratives more instructive, and seldom have I spent so rich and racy an evening.
Father Hopper has twelve children, and his handsome second wife sate at the table in her fine, white Quaker costume. A young, unmarried daughter still beautified her old father's home.
Long life to Father Hopper and his family!
September 5th—10th.—Days on the Hudson! The last days in my first beautiful home on its banks: beautiful days, but still sad. It is continually borne in upon my mind, with a painful feeling which I cannot describe, as of rending asunder, that the time draws near for separation; that I actually and for ever am leaving this grand, glorious country, in which I have lived so richly, which received me with such unexampled hospitality; these noble, amiable people, who are my friends, to whom I am so deeply attached, with whom I would fain always live and associate. Nowhere have I found such friends. Do not imagine, my own Agatha, that I am less willing to return home; believe me I could not live and work anywhere but in Sweden; but yet—it is bitter for me to tear myself away, and I sometimes believe that I cannot, that it is not really possible! It seems to me so unreasonable!
What a pleasure it was to me to see once more Mr. Downing, Andrew Downing, my first friend on the soil of America, my young American brother, as I love to call him!
The good Marcus had driven me down to the steamer, and sate with me in the saloon, waiting till Downing, according to appointment, should come. He came from Washington, and Marcus left me in his charge. It was now more than a year and half since I had last seen him, He seemed to me handsomer, more manly; it seemed to me as if he had grown, had developed himself; and so it was. He had spiritually developed himself and his world. His beautiful eyes beamed with a self-conscious power.
