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LETTERS. 229
for when I walk round them my path lies before me,
quite distinctly, with flowers edging its graceful windings.
Thanks, my dearest Frances! You come like a good, val-
ued friend, who has gathered the best fruits and flowers
which she has found on her way, to gladden the friend
whom she goes to see. It is this spirit of kindness and
love in a friend, which makes her warnings, her correc-
tions, and serious advice so pleasant to receive, so pleasant
to follow. In that pure mirror one will willingly see the’
spot in one’s own soul; by that gentle hand, gratefully
kissing it, one willingly allows the “beam” to be removed
from one’s eye. We do not know the best of a sincere
friendship until we have experienced it in ourselves. Do
you know, dearest Frances, what I fancy that Hedda at
this moment would have said to you, whom, next to her
own sisters, she held most dear in her heart and in her
thoughts, and of whom she spoke so much in her last mo-
ments? I fancy I hear her saying : —
“My dear Frances! you have been wandering a long
and toilsome road, and you are weary. Sit down beneath
this tree; rest yourself, and let it spread its shady branches
over you; lean your head agaiust its stem, and let the sum-
mer’s breeze — that summer’s breeze which is the breath
of God’s love — caress your cheeks and eyelids, and think
that all will be well one day. Rest so awhile, until you
have gathered strength to begin your walk again; you will
reach the-goal one day, and then you will see that all is
well.”
And the tree, under which she tells you to rest, — it is
the same under which she herself did rest, and which gave
peace and shelter to her life; the tree under which you
now so often are standing.
You ask me what I rae in going out to Arsta?
I read lately in a “ Gazette of Fashions,” that we ought
to keep our happiness secret and not speak of it to others,
because they cannot “tolerate it.” But this is a piece of
.
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