arm regard, from the impossibility of
sufficient intercourse to keep interest alive; and sympathy, after
endeavoring in vain to picture the distant home and surroundings and
daily occupations of the absent friend, dwindling and withering away for
want of necessary aliment, in spite of all the efforts which imagination
could make to satisfy the affectionate desire and longing loving
inquiries of the heart. Think of all that those two _existences_ as you
call them (existences no more--but mere ideas), Time and Space, have
caused of misery and suspense and heart-wearing anxiety, and rejoice
that so much has been done to make parting less bitter, and absence
endurable, through hope that now amounts almost to certainty.

My own plans, which I thought so thoroughly settled a short time ago,
have again become extremely indefinite. It is now considered inexpedient
that I should travel on the Continent, though there is no objection to
my remaining in England until my father's return, which I understand is
expected soon after Easter. As, however, my motive in leaving America is
to be with my father and sister, I have no idea of going to London to
remain there three months, without any expectation of seeing them. This
consideration would incline me to put off my visit to England till the
spring, but it is not yet determined who, or whether any of us, will go
to Georgia for the winter. My being taken thither is entirely uncertain;
but should the contrary be decided upon, I might perhaps come to England
immediately, as I would rather pass the winter in London, among my
friends, if I am to spend it alone, than here, where the severe weather
suspends all out-of-door exercise, interests, and occupations, and
where the absolute solitude is a terrible trial to my nerves and
spirits.

At present, however, I have not a notion what will be determined about
it, but as soon as I have any positive idea upon the subject I will let
you know.

We returned from Massachusetts a few days ago, and I find a profusion of
flowers and almost summer heat here, though the golden showers that
every now and then flicker from the trees, and the rustling sound of
fallen leaves, and the autumnal smell of mignonette, and other "fall"
flowers, whisper of the coming winter; still all here at present is
bright and sweet, with that peculiar combination of softness and
brilliancy which belongs to the autumn in this part of America. It is
the pleasantest season of