herself into the river because the world is all too narrow, Bettine lives and follows out every freakish fancy, till the enchanting child degenerates into an eccentric and undignified old woman.  There is a medium somewhere.  Philip Sidney found it; others had it found for them by fate.’

* * * * *

’March 29. 1841.—­* * Others have looked at society with far deeper consideration than I. I have felt so unrelated to this sphere, that it has not been hard for me to be true.  Also, I do not believe in Society.  I feel that every man must struggle with these enormous ills, in some way, in every age; in that of Moses, or Plato, or Angelo, as in our own.  So it has not moved me much to see my time so corrupt, but it would if I were in a false position.

’——­ went out to his farm yesterday, full of cheer, as one who doeth a deed with sincere good will.  He has shown a steadfastness and earnestness of purpose most grateful to behold.  I do not know what their scheme will ripen to; at present it does not deeply engage my hopes.  It is thus far only a little better way than others.  I doubt if they will get free from all they deprecate in society.’

* * * * *

’Paradise Farm, Newport, July, 1841.—­Here are no deep forests, no stern mountains, nor narrow, sacred valleys; but the little white farm-house looks down from its gentle slope on the boundless sea, and beneath the moon, beyond the glistening corn-fields, is heard the endless surge.  All around the house is most gentle and friendly, with many common flowers, that seem to have planted themselves, and the domestic honey-suckle carefully trained over the little window.  Around are all the common farm-house sounds,—­the poultry making a pleasant recitative between the carols of singing birds; even geese and turkeys are not inharmonious when modulated by the diapasons of the beach.  The orchard of very old apple-trees, whose twisted forms tell of the glorious winds that have here held revelry, protects a little homely garden, such as gives to me an indescribable refreshment, where the undivided vegetable plots and flourishing young fruit-trees, mingling carelessly, seem as if man had dropt the seeds just where he wanted the plants, and they had sprung up at once.  The family, too, look, at first glance, well-suited to the place,—­homely, kindly, unoppressed, of honest pride and mutual love, not unworthy to look out upon the far-shining sea.

’Many, many sweet little things would I tell you, only they are so very little.  I feel just now as if I could live and die here.  I am out in the open air all the time, except about two hours in the early morning.  And now the moon is fairly gone late in the evening.  While she was here, we staid out, too.  Everything seems sweet here, so homely, so kindly; the old people chatting so contentedly, the young men and girls laughing