Ever yours,
Lu.
To Anna.
Vevay, Aug. 21, 1870.
I had such a droll dream last night I must tell you. I thought I was returning to Concord after my trip, and was alone. As I walked from the station I missed Mr. Moore's house, and turning the corner, found the scene so changed that I did not know where I was. Our house was gone, and in its place stood a great gray stone castle, with towers and arches and lawns and bridges, very fine and antique. Somehow I got into it without meeting any one of you, and wandered about trying to find my family. At last I came across Mr. Moore, papering a room, and asked him where his house was. He didn't know me, and said,–
"Oh! I sold it to Mr. Alcott for his school, and we live in Acton now."
"Where did Mr. Alcott get the means to build this great concern?" I asked.
"Well, he gave his own land, and took the great pasture his daughter left him,–the one that died some ten years ago."
"So I am dead, am I?" says I to myself, feeling so queerly.
"Government helped build this place, and Mr. A. has a fine college here," said Mr. Moore, papering away again.