guinea pigs, no bigger than your Annie’s hand shut up, and the ample, neat play-places all about us.  I can’t tell you how George and I enjoy seeing M. trotting about, so eager and so happy, and gathering up, as we hope, health and strength every hour!  We find the house, on the whole, very convenient, and it is certainly as pleasant as can be; every room cheerful and every window commanding a view which is ravishing.

To Mrs. Smith, Genevrier, April 7, 1859.

You will be surprised, I dare say, to hear that I am writing out of doors; I can hardly, myself, believe that it is possible to do so with comfort and safety at this season, but it is perfectly charming weather, neither cold or hot, and with a small shawl and my bloomer on, I am out a large part of the day.  You would fly here in a balloon if you knew what a beautiful spot we are in.  We are surrounded with magnificent views of both the lake and the mountains, and can not turn in any direction without being ravished.  The house is pretty, and in most respects well and even handsomely furnished; damask curtains, a Titian, a Rembrandt, and a Murillo in the parlor; the floors are waxed and carpetless, to be sure, but Mrs. Buck has given us lots of large pieces of carpeting such as are used in this country to cover the middle of the rooms, and these will make us comfortable next winter.  But the winters here are so short that one hardly gets fixed to meet them, when they are over.

We have quite a nice garden, from which we have already eaten lettuce, spinach, and parsley; our potatoes were planted a day or two ago, and our peas are just up.  One corner of the house, unconnected with our part, is occupied by a farmer who rents part of the land; he is obliged to do our marketing, etc., and we get milk and cream from him.  I wish the latter was as easy to digest as it is palatable and cheap.  They beat it up here till it looks like pure white lather and eat it with sugar.  The grounds about our house are very neat and we shall have oceans of flowers of all sorts; several kinds are in full bloom now.  The wild flowers are so profuse, so beautiful and so various that A. and I are almost demented on the subject.  From the windows I see first the wide, gravelled walk which runs round the house; then a little bit of a green lawn in which there is a little bit of a pond and a tiny jet d’eau which falls agreeably on the ear; beyond this the land slopes gently upward till it is not land but bare, rugged mountain, here and there sprinkled with snow and interspersed with pine-trees.  The sloping land is ploughed up and men and women are busy sowing and planting; too far off to disturb us with noise, but looking, the women at least, rather picturesque in their short blue dresses and straw hats.  On the right hand the Dent du Midi is seen to great advantage; it is now covered with snow.  The little village of St. Leger lies off in the distance; you can just see its roofs and the quaint spire of a very old church; otherwise you see next to no houses, and the stillness is very sweet. Now won’t you come?  The children seem to enjoy their liberty greatly, and are running about all the time.  They have each a little garden and I hope will live out of doors all summer.