This long summer has been one of great sweetness and content to us all.  A tinge of sadness has, it is true, been mingled with our daily life, but we have felt the spiritual presence of our loved ones always near us, urging and encouraging us to persevere and fit ourselves to join them hereafter.  With this feeling we have worked constantly and closely, and our record of improvement has been somewhat satisfactory—­to ourselves at least.  We have gone through the weighty volumes that we had given ourselves as summer tasks; we have written and practised; and, although Minna constantly exclaims upon our close attention to study, a desire for improvement has extended (unconsciously to ourselves) from the parlor to the kitchen.  Going down there one night to give some orders for the next day, I was amused by overhearing Lina say, “It is time to go to school now.”  Immediately Minna’s bright-colored knitting was laid aside, and the two women drew up to the table with their books.  After studying their English lesson, they recited it to each other, followed by a brief reciprocal lesson of Swedish and German.

Bernard also had his book, and was studying with great apparent industry, although in what foreign tongue he was accomplishing himself I do not know.  Perhaps he was trying to master the intricacies of the German language, that he might offer himself to Minna through the medium of her own tongue.  I was amused to see that he occupied what might be called the neutral ground, at a table lighted by a flickering candle, and at an equal distance from his sweetheart and his foe; for since Bernard has commenced to take moonlight strolls with Minna, Lina has taken deadly umbrage, which she manifests by giving him candle-ends, cutting off his supply of coffee, and reducing his comforts generally.

At first I felt quite sorry for Lina, so completely excluded as she was at one time from the society of the other two, especially as she was much older than Minna, and not at all prepossessing in appearance; but since I have learned that she has in the village four Swedish admirers who make her weekly visits, I have ceased to waste any sympathy upon her.  We were quite amazed one Sunday afternoon to see four stalwart blond men wending their way kitchen-wards, and inquiring in broken English for “Swedish girl;” for of all places our quiet little Chappaqua is the last one where we would have thought of seeing any of Lina’s compatriots.  These men, it seems, are employed in repairing the railroad track; and learning that they had a countrywoman in the village, called to make her acquaintance; so Lina can now triumph over Minna.  I have heard from Minna that each one of the four men has already offered himself to Lina, and that she refused them, remarking, however, that she knew a girl in New York who would like to marry one of them.  The men thanked her, but thought the distance rather too great to go for a wife.

Despite their little difference over Bernard, the two women have lived together quite amicably this summer; and it has been a great relief to dear Ida, while so gracefully presiding as mistress of the house, to feel that harmony reigned in the kitchen.