that at any rate they make enough of themselves. But it is very
interesting to hear him go on about the French, and it is so much gain to
me, so long as that is what I came for. I talk to him as much as I dare
about Boston, but I do feel as if this were right down wrong--a stolen
pleasure.

I can get all the Boston culture I want when I go back, if I carry out my
plan, my happy vision, of going there to reside. I ought to direct all
my efforts to European culture now, and keep Boston to finish off. But
it seems as if I couldn't help taking a peep now and then, in
advance--with a Bostonian. I don't know when I may meet one again; but
if there are many others like Mr. Leverett there, I shall be certain not
to want when I carry out my dream. He is just as full of culture as he
can live. But it seems strange how many different sorts there are.

There are two of the English who I suppose are very cultivated too; but
it doesn't seem as if I could enter into theirs so easily, though I try
all I can. I do love their way of speaking, and sometimes I feel almost
as if it would be right to give up trying to learn French, and just try
to learn to speak our own tongue as these English speak it. It isn't the
things they say so much, though these are often rather curious, but it is
in the way they pronounce, and the sweetness of their voice. It seems as
if they must _try_ a good deal to talk like that; but these English that
are here don't seem to try at all, either to speak or do anything else.
They are a young lady and her brother. I believe they belong to some
noble family. I have had a good deal of intercourse with them, because I
have felt more free to talk to them than to the Americans--on account of
the language. It seems as if in talking with them I was almost learning
a new one.