will be that she will produce things in such enormous quantities
that there won't be enough people in the rest of the world to buy
them, and that we shall be left with our productions--most of them
very hideous--on our hands. I asked him if he thought corn a
hideous production, and he replied that there is nothing more
unbeautiful than too much food. I think that to feed the world too
well, however, that will be, after all, a beau role. Of course I
don't understand these things, and I don't believe Mr. Leverett
does; but Mr. Cockerel seems to know what he is talking about, and
he says that America is complete in herself. I don't know exactly
what he means, but he speaks as if human affairs had somehow moved
over to this side of the world. It may be a very good place for
them, and Heaven knows I am extremely tired of Europe, which mamma
has always insisted so on my appreciating; but I don't think I like
the idea of our being so completely cut off. Mr. Cockerel says it
is not we that are cut off, but Europe, and he seems to think that
Europe has deserved it somehow. That may be; our life over there
was sometimes extremely tiresome, though mamma says it is now that
our real fatigues will begin. I like to abuse those dreadful old
countries myself, but I am not sure that I am pleased when others do
the same. We had some rather pretty moments there, after all; and
at Piacenza we certainly lived on four francs a day. Mamma is
already in a terrible state of mind about the expenses here; she is
frightened by what people on the ship (the few that she has spoken
to) have told her. There is one comfort, at any rate--we have spent
so much money in coming here that we shall have none left to get
away. I am scribbling along, as you see, to occupy me till we get
news of the islands. Here comes Mr. Cockerel to bring it. Yes,
they are in sight; he tells me that they are lovelier than ever, and
that I must come right up right away. I suppose you will think that