We had the delight of reading Frederika Bremer's "Home" and
"Neighbors" when they were fresh from the fountains of her own
heart; and some of us must not be blamed for feeling as if no
tales of domestic life half so charming have been written since.
Perhaps it is partly because the home-life of Sweden is in itself
so delightfully unique.
We read George Borrow's "Bible in Spain," and wandered with him
among the gypsies to whom he seemed to belong. I have never
forgotten a verse that this strange traveler picked up somewhere
among the Zincali:--
"I'll joyfully labor, both night and day,
To aid my unfortunate brothers;
As a laundress tans her own face in the ray
To cleanse the garments of others."
It suggested a somewhat similar verse to my own mind. Why should
not our washerwoman's work have its touch of poetry also?--
This thought flashed by like a ray of light
That brightened my homely labor:--
The water is making my own hands white
While I wash the robes of my neighbor.
And how delighted we were with Mrs.
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