Something has really happened since I wrote last. I have had a visit from Mr. Carey, and have written a long letter to send home by him, since he was so kind as to offer to take charge of one. Mr. Carey stopped at the parsonage in the village with old Doctor Parnell, and walked up to Stanton Court to see his aunt Mrs. Judith and myself. I was overjoyed at seeing him, and was so silly as to let my joy overflow at my eyes. It did seem so like meeting some one from home. He told me he was going back to the Rectory next week, and would gladly take charge of a letter for me. So I wrote my letter, saying everything I could to make dear mother think me happy (as indeed I am, were I not so homesick). Hearing that I was writing home, Lady Stanton gave me a kind message for my mother, and a new silver groat apiece for each of the children. Lady Betty too would send her gifts to the twins, in the shape of a piece of gay ribbon, which she begged of her mother for the purpose. When my package was ready, my Lady kindly gave me leave to carry it down to the Rectory myself. I was glad to go, both for the sake of the walk, and that I might see something of the village, where I had not been except once to church. Mrs. Judith bade the gardener show me a shorter path to the village, through the wood, and down a ravine or coomb, as they call it here, in which runs a beautiful brook. About half way down, a beautiful spring comes boiling up from under a large rock, in quite a large stream, and the water is deliciously clear and cold. I could easily have wasted half the afternoon in this charming place, which, though very different, made me think of our old haunt, the Holy Well in the deer-park, where dear Dick and I used to have so many long talks. But I know that I must not be out too long, so I tore myself away and hastened onward. It seemed pleasant to be within the very walls of a rectory once more, though that at Stanton Corbet—as the village is called—is by no means so fine a house as ours at Saintswell. A part of it is very old, however, and it is all overgrown with climbing plants, (there is such a passion flower as never would flourish with us); and somehow the very air did smell like home. Mistress Parnell made me very welcome. She is not the rector's wife, but his sister, neither of them having married. They are both old people, with a wonderful likeness to each other, both in features and expression. Mistress Parnell would have me sit down to eat a cake and drink a glass of mead. "And so you have a new chaplain up at the Court?" remarked Doctor Parnell to me. "Yes sir," I answered. "He came only yesterday." "Did you ever know him?" asked the Doctor, turning to Mr. Carey. "His name is—" "Penrose," said I, seeing that he turned to me to supply the name which he had forgotten. "Mr. Robert Penrose." "Oh! Aye!" said he, smiling. "A Cornish name, belike. "'By Pol, Tre, and Pen, You shall know the Cornish men.'"