You know what pleasant day-dreams occupy my fancy--I anticipate nothing less than your _radical reform_, from all the follies which sometimes obscure your good sense; and I look for this change, not as the result of a Hohenlohe miracle, wrought upon you through the intercession of the Irish priesthood, but as the natural effect of living domesticated with such a family as I conceive to be now about to welcome you at Glenalta. I know your charming aunt and cousins only through their letters to you; but by "these presents," I feel that I cannot be mistaken in the attributes with which I have invested them: and, laugh as you like, you know that my castles are all built with materials from the county of Kerry, in Ireland; and I only say, if it be enthusiasm to love and venerate a set of people whom I have never seen--yes, and fully to intend, if life be spared me, to make a pilgrimage in quest of your relations, inspired by as much zeal as ever actuated the followers of Mahomet in their pious journeys to Mecca, why, let me cry with Falstaff, "God help the wicked." A sort of internal evidence quite incommunicable to any one else, assures me, that my fate is linked with that of the Douglas family; and I can give you no better reason for this belief, than the improbability that so much sympathy as draws me towards Glenalta, should be thrown away. However baseless you may consider the fabric of my visions, you can at least imagine that, while they possess my mind, they are not a little interesting; and therefore I conclude, as I began, by entreating that you will feed my Quixotism with journals containing the most accurate and minute accounts of all that is said and done, planned and projected, at that Ultima Thule, as you call it, whither you are bending your steps. The gun is fired as a signal for sailing--I see an army of carpet-bags and portmanteaus in full march, and must say--farewell! God bless you, my dear Howard. Your affectionate CHARLES FALKLAND. LETTER II. MISS DOUGLAS TO MISS SANDFORD. Dearest Julia, _Glenalta_. Your letter, which I received yesterday, reproaches me with silence, and I plead guilty to the charge, though you are very wrong in supposing that my failure in punctuality proceeds from weariness of communion with you. I have very few correspondents, and amongst these few I rejoice to say, that there is not one, to whom I write from any other motive than because I love and value every species of intercourse with those who are really dear to my heart. I know that it is only necessary to tell you, that I have been much engaged, to be certain of your forgiveness; but I should not satisfy myself if I did not say how I have been occupied.