I am promised a conveyance of this _pamphlet_ rather than letter by that excellent creature George Bentley, and I am particularly pleased with the power of sending you so voluminous a packet by private hand at present, because I may not be able to write for some time again. We are all going to Killarney. Arthur is an enthusiast about our Glen scenery, and I enjoy exceedingly the delight of shewing him that gem of purest water. Some anxiety, however, is always wisely mingled in our cup, which mamma's promise to accompany us, would have rendered too intoxicating, and this anxiety is relating to dearest Fred. whose College examinations must precede our excursion. He and Mr. Oliphant leave us on Thursday next, and will only be absent during five or six days. I cannot sleep from feverish solicitude, though I believe that my Fred. is very well prepared; but we have so managed this charming trip to Killarney, that it will either crown our victory, should such happiness be in store, or divert our melancholy, should the dear fellow be doomed to suffer a disappointment. Phil. and Mr. Bentley are to be of our party. Do you know that Arthur is quite a surprising botanist already; and as I am his _Linnæa_, I am as proud as a peacock of my pupil. He can now walk without _leading strings_, and is grown so expert that our rambles are become trials of rival skill. Well, I must bid my dear friends adieu. With many loves from Charlotte and Fanny to Bertha and Agnes; and _all_ our loves to your _dearly_ loved aunt, believe me, Julia's most affectionate, EMILY DOUGLAS. LETTER IX. CHARLES FALKLAND TO ARTHUR HOWARD. My dear Howard, _Rome_.