The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 73, November, 1863: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 12, No. 73, November, 1863: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
When we returned from our journey, Lulu was among the first to greet us,
and with a cordial animation quite unlike the gentle, dawdling way she
used to have. Indeed, I was struck the first evening with a new impulse,
and a healthful mental current, that gave glow and freshness to
everything she said. Mr. Lewis was gone to Cuba, she told us, and would
be away a month more, but "George" was with her continually, and the
days were all too short for what they had to do. She seemed to have
attacked all the arts and sciences simultaneously, and with an eagerness
very amusing to see. George had begun a numismatic collection for her,
and she had made out an historic table from the coins, writing down all
that was most important under each king's reign. George had brought home
some fine specimens of stones, and had interested her much in
mineralogy. George liked riding, and had taught her to ride; and she now
perpetually made her appearance in her riding-habit and little
jockey-cap, wishing she could do something for me here or there. George
moulded, and taught her to mould; and she was dabbling in clay and
plaster of Paris all the morning. George painted beautifully in
water-colors, and taught her to sketch from Nature, which she often did
now, in their rides, when the days were pleasant enough. George not only
thrummed a Spanish guitar, but liked singing; so music went on with
wonderful force and improvement. Nothing that George liked better than
botany, metaphysics, and micrology. And now Lulu was screaming at
dreadful dragons' heads on a pin's point, or delighted with
diamond-beetles and spiders' eyes. She fairly revelled in the new worlds
that were opened to her eager eye and hungry mind. No more long,
tiresome mornings now. Every hour was occupied. Intelligent smiles
dimpled her beautiful mouth; the weary, unoccupied, childish look
vanished from her eyes; and her talk was animated and animating. For
though she might not tell much that was new, she told it in a new way
and with the fresh light of recent experience. Thus she became in a
wonderfully short time a quite different woman from the Lulu of the
early winter.
We acknowledged that she was become an agreeable companion. In a few
weeks of home-education her soul had expanded to a tropical and rich
growth. This we were talking over one night, when Lulu had been with us,
and when George had come for her and extinguished us with his great
hearty laugh and abundant health and activity, as the sun's effulgence
does a house-candle.
"I don't like that Remington, either," said the minister, after we were
left in this state of darkness.
"But, surely, he has given Lulu's mind a most desirable impulse and
direction. How glad Mr. Lewis will be to see her so happy, so animated,
and so sensible, when he comes home!"
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