But so it is. It is now the first of May. Strawberries and
blackberries are over with us; oranges are in a waning condition, few
and far between. Now we are going North to begin another summer, and
have roses, strawberries, blackberries, and green peas come again.
"I am glad to hear of your reading. The effect produced on you by
Jonathan Edwards is very similar to that produced on me when I took
the same mental bath. His was a mind whose grasp and intensity you
cannot help feeling. He was a poet in the intensity of his
conceptions, and some of his sermons are more terrible than Dante's
'Inferno.'"
In November, 1874, upon their return to Mandarin, she writes: "We have
had heavenly weather, and we needed it: for our house was a cave of
spider-webs, cockroaches, dirt, and all abominations, but less than a
week has brought it into beautiful order. It now begins to put on that
quaint, lively, pretty air that so fascinates me. Our weather is, as I
said, heavenly, neither hot nor cold; cool, calm, bright, serene, and
so tranquillizing. There is something indescribable about the best
weather we have down here. It does not debilitate me like the soft
October air in Hartford."
During the following February, she writes in reply to an invitation to
visit a Northern watering place later in the season: "I shall be most
happy to come, and know of nothing to prevent.
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