remission of consequences. One must have something of the spirit of the fifty-first Psalm before that perception comes. Poor dear child, how one longs for power to breathe into her some such penitence! Avice is quite knocked up to-day, and her mother has kept her in bed, where she is very happy with her Jane. I have been to see her, and she has been thanking me for having suggested the making way for fresh comers in a pew. Otherwise, she says, she could not have withstood the rush. SIR EDWARD FULFORD TO MISS FULFORD 22D JULY. My Dear Charlotte,--I decidedly object to the company of a young lady with such a genius for intrigue as Isabel Fulford seems to possess. If we had only ourselves to consider, no doubt it would be well for you to take her in hand, but in the sort of house ours will be, there must be no one we cannot depend upon in our own family. I suppose I am guilty of having betrayed my thoughts to Edith. I had certainly wished for Metelill. She is an engaging creature, and I am sorry you take so adverse a view of her demeanour; but I promised to abide by your judgment and I will not question it. We will ask Arthur and Edith to bring her to visit us, and then perhaps you may be better satisfied with her. The learned young lady is out of the question, and as Avice is my dear wife's godchild as well as mine, I am very glad she has deserved that your choice should fall upon her. It seems as if you would find in her just the companionship you wish, and if her health needs the southern climate, it is well to give her the opportunity. You had better propose the scheme at once, and provide what she will need for an outfit. The last touches might be given at Paris. I hope to get time to run down to New Cove next week, and if you and the niece can be ready to start by the middle of August, we will take Switzerland by the way, and arrive at Malta by the end of September. I shall be curious to hear the result of your throwing the handkerchief.--Your affectionate brother, E. F. MISS FULFORD TO SIR EDWARD FULFORD JULY 24.--I threw the handkerchief by asking Martyn and Mary to spare their daughter. Tears came into Mary's eyes, the first I ever saw there, and she tried in vain to say something ridiculous. Martyn walked to the window and said huskily, "Dr. A--- said it would confirm her health to spend a few winters in the South. Thank you, Charlotte!" They did not doubt a moment, but Martyn feels the parting more than I ever thought he would, and Pica and Uchtred go about howling and bewailing, and declaring that they never shall know where to find anything again.