life of it, and the restless soul can never be made
to _vegetate_, even though the body does little else.... My days roll on
in a sort of dreamy, monotonous succession, with an imperceptible
motion, like the ceaseless creeping of the glaciers. I teach S---- to
read. I order my household, I read Mrs. Jameson's book about Canada, I
write to you, I copy out for Elizabeth Sedgwick the journal I kept on
the plantation, I ride every day, and play on the piano just enough not
to forget my notes, _et voila!_ Once a week I go to town, to execute
commissions, or return visits, and on Sundays I go to church; and so my
life slides away from me. My head and heart, however, are neither as
torpid nor as empty as my hours; and I often find, as others have done,
that external stagnation does not necessarily produce internal repose.
Occasionally, but seldom, people come from town to see us; and
sometimes, but not often, small offices of courtesy and kindness are
exchanged between me and my more immediate neighbors. And now my story
is done.... I really live almost entirely alone....

I am beginning to fear that I shall not be taken to the Virginia springs
this summer. If I go, I am told I must leave the children behind, the
roads and accommodations being such as to render it perfectly impossible
to take them with us. Indeed, the inconveniences of the journey and the
discomforts of the residence there are represented to us as so great,
that I am afraid I shall not be thought able to endure them. If it is
settled that I cannot go thither, I shall go up to Massachusetts, where,
though the material civilities of life are yet in their swaddling
clothes, I have dear friends, and the country is lovely all around where
I should be.

I have just seen some plans for a large hotel, which it is proposed to
build on some property we own in the city, in a position extremely well
adapted for such a purpose. I was very much pleased with them: they are
upon the wholesale scale of lodging and entertainment, which travelers
in this country require and desire; and combine as much comfort and
elegance as are compatible with such a style of establishment. We, you
know, in England, always like our public houses to be as like private
ones as possible. The reverse is the case here, and the lodging-house or
hotel recommends itself chiefly by being able to accommodate as many
people as can well congregate at a _table d'hote_ or in a public
drawing-room, that bein