22d.—I have just been made very happy, dear Mamma. I was sitting in my aunt’s dressing room, labouring through a difficult question in arithmetic, which Mary had given me, when my uncle came in; and, after a little conversation, he said to my aunt and cousins, “I am very much pleased with this good girl. I have not judged of her hastily—I approve of her as a companion for my daughters; and she has my free permission to be with them in this room and every where, as much as she pleases.”
It is a great satisfaction to add, that my cousins looked as much pleased at this as I did; but they could not feel the delight that I felt, when he continued,—“Bertha, my dear, when you write to your mother, I desire that you will say I am highly pleased with her education of her little daughter. Separated from her friends and country by ill health, with little of good society, and labouring under many disadvantages, she has not sunk into indolence or indifference—she has preserved her good sense and energy, and has made you a gentlewoman in mind and manners; and I rejoice to see you so much what the child of my excellent sister ought to be.”
My beloved mother, this little message to you gave me such heartfelt delight, that my eyes very nearly overflowed.
My kind uncle afterwards said, “But, Bertha, do not imagine that I think you have no faults.”
“No, dear uncle,” said I, “that never came into my head; but I am sure you and my aunt will be so good as to assist me in conquering them.”
“Most readily I will,” said he: “indeed I will write myself to your mother, and tell her how much I like her Bertha, who deserves to be the companion of my daughters; my sister knows how particular I am about their intimacies and early friendships.”
Though I know his letter will be a most welcome one to you, I could not resist the pleasure of telling you all this myself, dear Mamma. I shall feel much more bright and cheerful now, than I have felt, since I left you.
23d.—I can walk much more here than I could in our own hot country, so I am out a great deal every fine day.
Yesterday, we all set out on a ramble through the forest, that I might see some of its wildest parts; and the morning was so fine, that we went much farther than my cousins had been for a long time. There is but little of it that answered to my ideas of a forest; some parts are quite cleared away, and in others, the trees are spoiled by being copsed. I must confess, that some of the oaks are fine trees; but how insignificant the best of them would appear by the side of our noble bombax, or of our tall palms, which spread their leaves like immense umbrellas. And besides, the green of the foliage is so dull, when compared to the vivid tints of the trees in Brazil! We found, however, some very nice and smooth grassy paths through the wood, of which I might say—
All around seems verdure meet
For pressure of the fairies’ feet.