Here the entrance of the letter-bag suspended conversation. The most eager for its opening was young Thornhill; and his countenance became at once overcast when he found there was no letter for him; as mine, no doubt, became overcast when I found a large packet of letters forwarded to me. I had left town long before the post closed; and two or three hours suffice to bring plenty of troublesome correspondents upon a busy Londoner. My housekeeper had forwarded them all. I think Lady Gertrude was the only other one of our party for whom the postman sped the soft intercourse from soul to soul. When I looked up from my letters, Henry Thornhill had already glanced rapidly over the panorama of the world, displayed in the ‘Times’ newspaper, and, handing it to the Librarian, said disdainfully, “No news.” “No news!” exclaimed Caleb Danvers, after his own first peep—“no news! Why, Dr ——’s great library is to be sold by auction on the 14th of next month!” “That _is_ interesting news,” said Tracey. “Write at once for the catalogue.” “Any further criticism on the Exhibition of the Royal Academy?” asked the Painter, timidly. “Two columns,” answered Mr Danvers, laconically. “Oh,” said the Painter, “that is interesting too.” “I beg your pardon, Mr Danvers,” said Lady Gertrude, “but will you glance at the foreign intelligence? Look to Germany;—anything about the Court of ——?” “The Court of ——? yes, our minister there is convalescent, and going to Carlsbad next week.” “That’s what I wanted to know,” said Lady Gertrude. “My letter is from his dear sister, who is very anxious about him. Going to Carlsbad—I am glad to hear it.” Meanwhile Clara, who had possessed herself of the supplementary sheet, cried out, joyously—“O dear Henry, only think—Ellen has got a baby. How pleased they will be at the Grange! A son and heir at last!” “Tut,” growled Henry, breaking an egg-shell. “So,” said Tracey, “you see the ‘Times’ has news for every one except my friend here, who read in London yesterday what we in the country read to-day; and Captain Thornhill, who finds nothing that threatens to break the peace of the world to the promotion of himself and the decimation of his regiment.” Henry laughed, but not without constraint, and muttered something about civilians being unable to understand the interest a soldier takes in his profession. After breakfast, Tracey said to me, “Doubtless you have your letters to answer, and will be glad to have your forenoon to yourself. About two o’clock we propose adjourning to a certain lake, which is well shaded from the sun. I have a rude summer pavilion on the banks; there we can dine, and shun the Dogstar. Clara, who happily does not know that I am thinking of Tyndaris, will bring her lute, Aunt Gertrude her work, Bourke his sketch-book; and the lake is large enough for a sailing excursion, if Henry will kindly exchange, for the day, military repose for nautical activity.”