My brother had arrived at the Delightful¹ Island. His first letter dated from there was a very long one, it was written on thin paper that had been stained a light yellow by the sea, for it had been upon its way four months.  
It was a great event in our family, and I still recall that as my father and mother broke its seal, I sprang joyously² up the stairs, two steps at a time, in my haste to reach the second floor and call my grandmother and aunts from their rooms.
 
Inside the plump-feeling envelope, which was covered over with South American stamps, there was a note for me, and enclosed in this I found a pressed flower, a sort of five-petalled star which, though somewhat faded, was still pink. The flower, my brother wrote, was from a shrub³ that had taken root and blossomed beside his window, almost within his Tahitian hut, which was actually invaded by the luxuriant vegetation of the region. Oh! with what deep emotion;—with what avidity,............