I’m off in a day or two to visit some new country; I haven’t yet decided
which. I’ve satisfied myself with regard to France, and obtained a good
knowledge of the language. I’ve enjoyed my visit to Madame de
Maisonrouge deeply, and feel as if I were leaving a circle of real
friends. Everything has gone on beautifully up to the end, and every one
has been as kind and attentive as if I were their own sister, especially
Mr. Verdier, the French gentleman, from whom I have gained more than I
ever expected (in six weeks) and with whom I have promised to
_correspond_. So you can imagine me dashing off the liveliest and yet
the most elegant French letters; and if you don’t believe in them I’ll
keep the rough drafts to show you when I go back.
The German gentleman is also more interesting the more you know him; it
seems sometimes as if I could fairly drink in his ideas. I’ve found out
why the young lady from New York doesn’t like me! It’s because I said
one day at dinner that I _admired_ to go to the Louvre. Well, when I
first came it seemed as if I _did_ admire everything! Tell William Platt
his letter has come. I knew he’d have to write, and I was bound I’d make
him! I haven’t decided what country I’ll visit next; it seems as if
there were so many to choose from. But I must take care to pick out a
good one and to meet plenty of fresh experiences. Dearest mother, my
money holds out, and it is most interesting!