And the third was ardent and tender expressions of affection for the wife and children he adored. These effusions of the heart had no separate place, except in my somewhat arbitrary analysis of the honest sailor's letter; they were the under current. Mrs. Dodd read part of it out to Julia; in fact all but the money matter: that concerned the heads of the family more immediately; and Cash was a topic her daughter did not understand, nor care about. And when Mrs. Dodd had read it with glistening eyes, she kissed it tenderly, and read it all over again to herself, and then put it into her bosom as naively as a milkmaid in love. Edward's letter was short enough, and Mrs. Dodd allowed Julia to read it to her, which she did with panting breath, and glowing cheeks, and a running fire of comments. “'Dear Mamma, I hope you and Ju are quite well----'” “Ju,” murmured Mrs. Dodd plaintively. “'And that there is good news about papa coming home. As for me, I have plenty on my hands just now; all this term I have been ['training' scratched out, and another word put in: C -- R -- oh, I know) 'cramming.'” “'Cramming,' love?” “Yes, that is the Oxfordish for studying.” “'--For smalls.'” Mrs. Dodd contrived to sigh interrogatively. Julia, who understood her every accent, reminded her that “smalls” was the new word for “little go.” “'--Cramming for smalls; and now I am in two races at Henley, and that rather puts the snaffie on reading and gooseberry pie' (Goodness me), 'and adds to my chance of being ploughed for smalls.'” “What does it all mean?” inquired mamma, “'gooseberry pie'? and 'the snaffle'? and 'ploughed'?” “Well, the gooseberry pie is really too deep for me: but 'ploughed' is the new Oxfordish for 'plucked.' O mamma, have you forgotten that? 'Plucked' was vulgar, so now they are 'ploughed.' 'For smalls; but I hope I shall not be, to vex you and Puss.'” “Heaven forbid he should be so disgraced! But what has the cat to do with it?” “Nothing on earth. Puss? that is me. How dare he? Did I not forbid all these nicknames and all this Oxfordish, by proclamation, last Long.” “Last Long?” “Hem! last protracted vacation.” “'--Dear mamma, sometimes I cannot help being down in the mouth,' (why, it is a string of pearls) 'to think you have not got a son like Hardie.'” At this unfortunate reflection it was Julia's turn to suffer. She deposited the letter in her lap, and fired up. “Now, have not I cause to hate, and scorn, and despise le petit Hardie?” “Julia!” “I mean to dislike with propriety, and gently to abominate--Mr. Hardie, junior.” “'--Dear mamma, do come to Henley on the tenth, you and Ju. The university eights will not be there, but the head boats of the Oxford and Cambridge river will; and the Oxford head boat is Exeter, you know; and I pull Six.'” “Then I am truly sorry to hear it; my poor boy will overtask his strength; and how unfair of the other young gentlemen; it seems ungenerous; unreasonable; my poor child against so many.”