. . . Her smile breaks out like real
sunshine, revealing a happy and satisfied spirit, a fresh and unworn
nature. Her children seem to regard her as a precious treasure. Her
husband, with a white head and perfectly Eastern face, is exceedingly
pleasant; and when he comes home to dinner he goes to his wife and
takes her hand, as if he had been gone many months, and asks her
particularly how it is with her, in a tender and at the same time
playful way, which causes a great deal of sunshine. Then he runs
upstairs to dress, and comes back in an incredibly short time, as nice
as a new pin, and overflowing with the kindest hospitality. It is such
a pretty scene: the elegant drawing-room, the recess a bow window of
great size, filled with such large and clear plate glass that it seems
wide open, looking out upon the verdant lawn and rich green--
evergreen--shrubbery; two superb cranes, with stately crests,
walking about with proud steps, or with outspread wings half flying,
and uttering a short, sharp cry; oval and circular plots of ground
surrounded now with snowdrops, about twice as large as those we have
in America. Everything is lovely outside. Inside, innumerable gems of
art and mechanism cover the tables. . . . In the evening . . . the
group of airily dressed children; the tender mother in her rich
brocade and lace mantle; the happy father; the agreeable governess
(Miss Cumberland is a remarkably accomplished person, and has been
with the family fifteen years); the music, talk, and aesthetic
tea,--it is a charming picture.
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