DEAR ELIZABETH,--Shall we go to the beach? If so, I propose that we
set off instanter. I think a sea-breeze would be most refreshing this
afternoon. Truly yours,

M. T. P.

Don't forget to ask your brother.

MY DEAR E.,--I am afraid I shall not be able to go and spend an
evening with you while the girls are gone. To-morrow, you know, is the
eclipse. I wish you would come here in the afternoon. The graveyard
is an open place to see it from, and I should be very glad of your
company. Yesterday I heard of Nathaniel. A gentleman was shut up with
him on a rainy day in a tavern in Berkshire, and was perfectly charmed
with his luck. In haste, yours,

E. P. P.

By and by Elizabeth Peabody returns to Boston, and Sophia goes on with
letters:--

I do not think I am subject to my imagination; I can let an idea go to
the grave that I see is false. When I am altogether true to the light
I have, I shall be in the heaven where the angelic Very now is. I went
to see dear Miss Burley, who sent for me to go to her room. She
insisted upon accompanying me all the way downstairs, limping
painfully, and would open the outer door for me, and bow me out with
as much deference as if I had been Victoria, or Hawthorne himself! So
much for the Word uttering itself through my fingers in the face of