Your letter, my dear Octavia, was the first thing to welcome me on my arrival at this City. I cannot describe to you my sensations when it came. I can rarely think of home without more pain than pleasure, and yet if there is a being on earth perfectly _blest_ ’tis your sister Eliza. How infinitely more happy than when I left you. You cannot imagine how delightful has been our journey. We have stop’t at every pleasant place, enjoyed all the beauties of the Spring in the richest and most luxuriant country I ever saw. I wrote you last from Boston.—The afternoon following Mr. Lee called to accompany us a few miles out of town; he had requested Mr. Lyman’s permission to go out to his seat in Waltham that Mr. Bowne and myself might have an opportunity to see it, as it is the most beautiful place round Boston. We set out about 4 o’clock—had a most charming ride. Mr. Lee was remarkably sociable, attentive and polite, both to Mr. Bowne and myself. He talks just as sociably, and called me “Miss Southgate” and “Mrs. B.” all in a breath as fast as he could talk. I have no time to tell you of this elegant place of Mr. Lyman’s, great taste in laying out the grounds. It surpasses everything of the kind I ever saw; beautiful serpentine river or brook thickly planted with trees, and elegant swans swimming about—you can’t imagine—’twas almost like enchantment. After Mr. Lee had gathered me a bouquet large enough to supply a ballroom—of the most elegant and rare flowers,—full blown roses—buds—everything beautiful, we jumped into the carriage, he shook us cordially by the hand, wished us every happiness, and hoped to see us in New York ere long. Sunday morning we got to Springfield, stayed the day, it recalled so many pleasing sensations. When we parted there—how different were our feelings—our happiness was augmented by the contrast. From Springfield to Hartford was charming; much pleased with Hartford, stayed a day and night there. From Hartford to New Haven is the most elegant ride you can possibly imagine,—a fine turnpike about 30 miles, and such a picturesque, rich, luxuriant country, such variety and beauty—oh ’twas charming! Mr. Bowne is waiting for me this full hour to walk in the Mall,—What shall I do, he hurries so? Well, I never saw a place so charming as New Haven; we have been all over it,—visited the College, everything, and I give it the preference to any place I know of—a particular description I defer. I have no time to say a word of your letter; write me immediately on receiving this to New York, where we shall be on Saturday. Mr. Bowne’s best love with mine to all the family. Adieu—I have ten thousand things more to say but can’t. Write me immediately. Ever your affectionate ELIZA BOWNE. New York, June 6, 1803.