roof, I know not; but upwards of
_four hundred_ have sat down at one time to feed in the boundless
dining-hall. The number of persons now in the house does not, I believe,
exceed eighty, and everybody is lamenting the smallness of the company,
and the consequent dullness of the place; and I am perpetually called
upon to sympathize with regrets which I am so far from sharing, that I
wish, instead of eighty, we had only eight fellow-lodgers.... The
general way of life is very disagreeable to me. I cannot, do what I
will, find anything but constraint and discomfort in the perpetual
presence of a crowd of strangers. The bedrooms are small, and furnished
barely as well as a common servant's room in England. They are certainly
not calculated for comfortable occupation or sitting alone in; but
sitting alone any part of the day is a proceeding contemplated by no one
here.

As for bathing, we are carried down to the beach, which is extremely
deep and sandy, in an omnibus, by batches of a dozen at a time. There
are two little stationary bathing-huts for the use of the whole
population; and you dress, undress, dry yourself, and do all you have to
do, in the closest proximity to persons you never saw in your life
before.... This admitting absolute strangers to the intimacy of one's
most private toilet operations is quite intolerable, and nothing but the
benefit which I believe the children, as well as myself, derive from the
bathing would induce me to endure it.

From this place we go up to Massachusetts--a delightful expedition to
me--to our friends the Sedgwicks, who are very dear to me, and almost
the only people among whom I have found mental companionship since I
have been in this country.

I have not had one line from my sister since her return from Germany,
whence she wrote me one letter. I feel anxious about her plans--yet not
very--I do not think her going into public life adds much to the anxiety
I feel about her.... God bless you, dear. What would I give to be once
more within reach of you, and to have one more of our old talks!

Ever affectionately yours,
F. A. B.

ROCKAWAY, LONG ISLAND, August 23d, 1838.
DEAR MRS. JAMESON,

... I forget whether you visited any of the watering-places of this New
World; but if you did not, your estate was the more gracious. This is
the second that I have