_Sept. 24th_. Charming little Canary! I have spent the forenoon with her at the piano. I like her playing when she does not attempt my favorite tunes. It must be confessed she is apt to vary somewhat, and not for the better always. Her singing,--Aunt Tabitha well describes it as that of a canary; sweet and liquid, and clear, and sustained, but all alike. Her throat is a fine instrument; I shall teach her to use it with more expression and feeling. We will have another lesson to-morrow. I thought, though, there was a shadow over her face when I called it _practising_. Etty's eyes met mine at the moment, a rare occurrence. What was her thought? One cannot read in her immovable face. _Evening_. I am booked for a horseback ride with Little Handsome to-morrow morning. How did she make me offer? I did not mean to. All country girls ride, I believe. I often see Miss Etty cantering through the shady lanes all by herself. I saw the bars down, at the end of the track through the wood, one day. I immediately concluded that Little Ugly had paced off that way, that I need not see her from my window. I put the bars up again, and lay in wait behind the bushes. Soon I heard her approaching. I come forward as she comes near, on that rat-like pony of hers, who holds his head down as if searching for something lost in the road. I stand in doubt whether to laugh at her predicament, or advance in a gentlemanly manner to remove the obstacle I had put in her way. When lo! the absurd little nag clears it at a bound, and skims away over the green track like a swallow, till he vanishes under the leafy arch. I am left in a very foolish attitude, with mouth and eyes wide open. Now this independent young lady shall be at liberty to take care of herself, with no officious interference of mine; I will not invite her to join us to-morrow morning, as I intended. I wonder if any horses are to be procured that are not rats. I hope Miss Flora knows enough to mount her pony, for I am sure I do not know how to help her. Whew! I hope we shall meet with no disasters! I feel certain Little Handsome would scream like a sea-gull, pull the wrong rein, tangle her foot in the stirrup or riding-skirt, faint, fall, break her neck--O horrors! Will not the dear old Aunt Tabitha forbid her going? What a well-proportioned and ladylike figure it was, now I think of it! How gracefully she sat upon her flying Dobbin!