his manners are as different from Mr. Tayloe’s as can be—but hush! what am I drawing comparisons for? I do not feel in the least restrained where he is, and can talk to him better than to any other gentleman here. Would not you like to have such a teacher? “_Feb. 6th._—I wonder when father will come up; I have been looking for him every day for more than a week. Mr. Nevius was here the other day. I inquired after you, but he had never seen you when he went to Mr. Miller’s. I was quite disappointed, and I wish you would show yourself next time—that is, if you can. “I very often think of the times we ate roasted corn and turnips in the midst of the corn-field; don’t you remember the evening when the supper-bell rang and we hid our corn among the leaves of the corn that was growing? I never knew how much I loved you or any of my friends until I was separated from them. Mr. Nevius brought a letter for sister from Anne Carus. She still writes in that desponding style you know she was so remarkable for in school, but I am glad to see from her letter that she has come to the conclusion to be contented with her lot. “I hope you do not indulge in such feelings, and, indeed, you have no reason to do so, for you are only six miles from your mother and friends, and you are with your brother, and I think you will find a valuable friend in Malvina. How do you like your new teacher and situation? If you are ever home-sick, study hard and forget it. “I have made many pleasant acquaintances here, and among them Mr. Tayloe’s flame! I do not think they are engaged, but he goes there very frequently, and the students plague him half to death about her, and he never denies it. He boards here. She has a fair skin, blue eyes, and almost red hair, but she is very pretty ‘for all that.’ She is about seventeen. There is a little girl about my own age here, who takes your place in my affections while _here_; she is a granddaughter of Professor Wilson, and lives in his house. Her name is Louisa Caruthers. I will speak to Lou about you, for you _must_ be acquainted. But a truce to this nonsense! Do not show this letter to any one of Mr. Miller’s family, for I feel restrained if I think that my letters are to be shown to any except my particular friends. I will not show yours. Show this to mother, your mother, E. D., and V. Winfree. Give my respects to all Mr. M.’s family, take some of my best love for yourself, and divide the rest among my friends. “Now farewell, do not forget me, and I will ever be “Your sincerely attached friend, “M. V. H.” The foregoing priggish and stilted epistle begins the next chapter of my life-story.