the effects of that well-nigh overwhelming affliction, her little niece, Amy, was approaching the most interesting stage of childhood. Her beautiful, bright face, and the daily revealings of a mind unusually intelligent, together with the sweet orphan’s naturally winning and bewitching ways, won more and more upon the heart of her aunt. And so, when Amy Carter was nine years old, Mrs. Clinton begged that her niece might be altogether withdrawn from school, and that she might herself be allowed to superintend the little girl’s education. So from that time Amy dwelt beneath the spiritual dominion of her aunt; and never was pupil more docile, or preceptress kinder or more fondly beloved. And Amy’s devotion to Mrs. Clinton is still as ardent and enthusiastic as in the days of her childhood. Wherever the latter has stationed herself, you may be sure that the former is not very many paces distant. Mrs. Clinton sometimes laughingly, but lovingly, styles Amy her shadow; and her eyes are often suffused with happy tears at some unobtrusive mark of the young girl’s earnest affection. But upon the foregoing imperfect daguerreotypes, gentle reader, I have already lingered longer than my time admits; for, after all, my principal object in asking you to bear me company within the precincts of this pleasant household, was, that we might inspect some of the Valentines in yonder daintily-wrought basket resting upon the table, beside which fair Amy Carter is seated. (As a particular secret, dear reader, I will whisper to you that the authorship of most of these little friendly missives is ascribed to Mrs. Clinton.) The first Valentine within our reach is addressed to Harry Gordon. When on your downy couch you lie, And thoughtful heave the pensive sigh, Or muse on conquests—Cupid’s bow Oft bent by thee— Ere slumber comes—just then bestow One thought on me. And if your fancy can but paint A modest maid, not _quite_ a saint, In stature small, in visage fair, Mild and discreet, ’Tis she would free your mind from care With whispers sweet. Upon the reception of which, it may be as well to mention, our anticipated doctor of divinity had laid his hand most impressively upon his heart, in token of his appreciating divination of a passion so divine. Next we have a Valentine upon the tiniest of all tiny sheets of gilt-edged note-paper. It is inscribed to little Helen Bond.