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158 LETTERS.
To-day we have boarded and lodged our little “Son of
Misery ” with “ good” Mr. Gardener, at any rate for the first
six months. The kind Christine has promised to take
_ most tender care of the poor little child; perhaps he may
be able to learn to think and articulate. He left us well
and amply provided for with every thing. When I this
morning marked his linen, I stamped it, without thinking
of it, with a small cross, in shape like those which are here
put upon graves. I wonder whether there was any thing
prophetic in it for the child. Our mother and I did cele-
brate the day of Jubilee in church. H. bawled dread-
fully about our forefathers being all in utter darkness and
the shadow of death. The sun —this beautiful image of
intellectual light — broke through heavy clouds, and throw-
ing now and then his brilliant rays into the church, was the
best part of the whole service.
Farewell, dearest sister; millions of greetings from all
at home; also to your husband.
SrockHoim, 7th December,
You are a dear, kind, darling one for writing so often
and so fully. You cannot imagine how greedy we are for
your letters ; how we all gather round every one of them,
when they arrive, like so many flies round the cream ; and
how we taste and taste, again and again, and chat, and won-
der, and are delighted with you and your journey. I re-
ceived this morning your letter from Hellinge, but I am
most anxious to hear something of you from Christianstad.
I believe you will arrive there to-day. Oh, if I were there
to welcome you! I shall now say something about our-
selves. My dearest Charlotte, do not get frightened, when,
for the sake of truth, I must confess that I have not had
courage to write to you sooner from Stockholm, because
every thing here has appeared to me so heavy, so cold, and
even intolerable; but, thank God! it looks considerably
brighter now, and will no doubt become still brighter.
’
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