Travelling, too,
through the wide green woods and prairies, gives a feeling both of
luxury and repose that the sight of highly-cultivated country never
can. There seems to be room enough for labor to pause and man to fold
his arms and gaze, forgetting poverty, and care, and the thousand
walls and fences that in the cultivated region must be built and daily
repaired both for mind and body. Nature seems to have poured forth her
riches so without calculation, merely to mark the fulness of her joy;
to swell in larger strains the hymn, "the one Spirit doeth all things
veil, for its life is love."
I will not ask you to write to me now, as I shall so soon be at home.
Probably, too, I shall reserve a visit to B---- for another summer; I
have been so much a rover that when once on the road I shall wish to
hasten home.
Ever yours, M.
* * * * *
TO THE SAME.
_Cambridge, January_ 21, 1644.
MY DEAR ------: I am anxious to get a letter, telling me how you fare
this winter in the cottage. Your neighbors who come this way do not
give very favorable accounts of your looks; and, if you are well
enough, I should like to see a few of those firm, well-shaped
characters from your own hand.
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