I know nothing
is so likely to bring me up as the air of the seaside. . . . I have
set many flowers around Henry's grave, which are blossoming; pansies,
white immortelle, white petunia, and verbenas. Papa walks there every
day, often twice or three times. The lot has been rolled and planted
with fine grass, which is already up and looks green and soft as
velvet, and the little birds gather about it. To-night as I sat there
the sky was so beautiful, all rosy, with the silver moon looking out
of it. Papa said with a deep sigh, "I am submissive, but not
reconciled."
BRUNSWICK, _September_ 6,1857.
MY DEAR GIRLS,--Papa and I have been here for four or five days past.
We both of us felt so unwell that we thought we would try the sea air
and the dear old scenes of Brunswick. Everything here is just as we
left it. We are staying with Mrs. Upham, whose house is as wide, cool,
and hospitable as ever. The trees in the yard have grown finely, and
Mrs. Upham has cultivated flowers so successfully that the house is
all surrounded by them. Everything about the town is the same, even to
Miss Gidding's old shop, which is as disorderly as ever, presenting
the same medley of tracts, sewing-silk, darning-cotton, and
unimaginable old bonnets, which existed there of yore. She has been
heard to complain that she can't find things as easily as once. Day
before yesterday papa, Charley, and I went down to Harpswell about
seven o'clock in the morning.
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