The Wreck of the Pulaski
[ April 17,1839]
We shall leave this place next Thursday or Friday [April 18 or 19], and there will be an end to this record; meantime I am fulfilling all sorts of last duties, and especially those of taking leave of my neighbors, by whom the neglect of a farewell visit would be taken much amiss.
On Sunday I rode to a place called Frederica to call on Mrs. A[bbott], who came to see me some time ago. I rode straight through the island by the main road that leads to the little church.
How can I describe to you the exquisite spring beauty that is now adorning these woods, the variety of the fresh, newborn foliage, the fragrance of the sweet, wild perfumes that fill the air? Honeysuckles twine round every tree; the ground is covered with a low, white-blossomed shrub more fragrant than lilies of the, valley. The Acacias are swinging their silver censers under the green roof of these wood temples; every stump is like a classical altar to the sylvan gods, garlanded with flowers; every post, or stick, or slight stem, like a Bacchante's thyrsus,1 twined with wreaths