Dr. Howe returned from Europe some months since, and brought us a letter of introduction from a friend of mamma’s in Florence; but owing to mamma’s long illness and the seclusion in which we lived last winter, we have not seen him many times.

I have in my lap a number of letters received in this evening’s mail.  One is from my dear friend, Mrs. Knox, the charming contralto of Christ Church.  We had expected her to visit us this week, but her unexpected departure for the West has prevented her from doing so.  She says: 

“You must truly be enjoying Chappaqua these heavenly June days.  I hope that the fresh air and rest are putting roses into your pale cheeks and giving you health and strength for your literary labors.  My sudden departure compels me to forego the pleasure I had anticipated in seeing you at Chappaqua—­at least until the fall.  I am appreciative of the courtesy of your dear mamma in inviting me to spend a day in that lovely retreat, already made sacred to me by my high regard and admiration for your most noble uncle, whose home it was.”

Another letter is written upon most dainty stationery, bearing the impress of Tiffany, and adorned with a prettily devised monogram in lavender and gold (handsome stationery is one of my weaknesses).  This letter I know to be sprightly and amusing before I open it, for my friend Lela has been for two or three years one of my most entertaining correspondents.  We were intimate friends in Paris three or four years ago, when Lela was a school-girl, and I an enfant de Marie, and although we have been separated by hundreds of miles, by the ocean, and finally, by Lela’s marriage, our attachment continues; so, no reproaches upon school-girl friendships, I beg.

Lela was married last winter, but she and her handsome French husband are yet in the honeymoon, which will last, I fancy, forever—­certainly the former Queen of Hearts seems now to care for only one heart.  She says: 

“You must be having a lovely time in such a charming place.  We have been to Saratoga.  It was stupid enough to send your worst enemy there.”

June 17.

This week has been quite lost, so far as study is concerned, for nearly every day has been interrupted by visitors.

Looking out of the window this morning, I saw a carriage containing two strange young ladies stop before the house.  In answer to their inquiry for Miss Greeley and Miss Gabrielle, Minna informed them, in her broken English, that they were both in the city for the day.  They looked quite aghast upon receiving this information, for they had already dismissed their carriage, in which they had driven from Pleasantville, and knew probably that there was no down train till 4.45, so quite helplessly they inquired if no members of the family were at home.  Learning that Mrs. Cleveland and her daughters were here, one of the young ladies, a stylish girl in mourning, desired Minna to announce Miss Hempstead and her cousin.  I puzzled a little over the name while glancing in the mirror to see that my crape ruffle was properly adjusted, and my hair in tolerable order.  The name seemed familiar, and yet I knew that no friend of mine bore it.