home with a tremendous headach: sat gossiping and drinking lemonade. Presently a tap at the door came, and through the door came Mr. ----. I shook hands with him, and began expatiating on the impertinence of people's not enquiring down stairs whether we were at home or not before they came up--I don't believe he took my idea. Mr. ---- came in to bid us good-by: he starts to-morrow for Baltimore. He is a nice good-tempered young Irishman, with more tongue than brains, but still clever enough: I am sorry he is going. Came to bed-room at eleven, remained up till one, unpacking goods and chattels. Mercy on me, what a cargo it is! They have treated us like ambassadors, and not one of our one-and-twenty huge boxes have been touched. _Thursday, 6th._ Rose at eight. After breakfast, began writing to my brother; while doing so they brought up Captain ----'s and Mr. ----'s cards. I was delighted to see our dear Captain again, who, in spite of his glorious slip-slop, is a glorious fellow. They sat some time. Colonel ---- called--he walks my father off his legs. When they were all gone, finished letter and wrote journal. Unpacked and sorted things. Opened with a trembling heart my bonnet-box, and found my precious _Dévy_ squeezed to a crush--I pulled it out, rebowed, and reblonded, and reflowered it, and now it looks good enough "pour les _tha_uvages, mam_the_lle Fannie." Worked at my muslin gown; in short, did a deal. A cheating German woman came here this morning with some bewitching canezous and pelerines: I chose two that I wanted, and one very pretty one that I didn't; but as she asked a heathen price for 'em, I took only the former;--dear good little me![1] We dined at five. After dinner, sang and played to my father, "all by the light of the moon." The evening was, as the day had been, lovely; and as I stood by his side near the open window, and saw him inhaling the pure fresh air, which he said invigorated and revived him, and heard him exclaim upon the beauty of our surroundings, half of my regret for this exile melted away. * * * * * * * * * * He said to me, "Is there not reason to be grateful to God, when we look at these fair things?"--and indeed, indeed, there is: yet these things are not to me what they were. He told me that he had begun a song on board ship for the last Saturday night, but that, not feeling well, he had given it up, but the very same ideas I had made use of had occurred to him. * * * * * * * * * * This is not surprising; the ideas were so obvious that there was no escaping them. My father is ten years younger since he came here, already. * * * * * * * * * *