Emily was a great housekeeper—and her parlor was a model of comfort. There were no framed pictures. The walls were covered with a landscape paper (_engraved_, not colored) representing the neighborhood of Jerusalem and scenes in the life of the Saviour. On the wall, on one side of the fire-place, was Christ blessing little children—on the other Christ at the marriage at Cana—the figures were nearly as large as life. Emily loved them like familiar friends—and this paper was a favorite with the old man because its grave hue, assisted by the slate-colored moreen curtains at the windows, and the slate-colored coverings of the lounges and easy chairs, shed a sober clerical sort of air over the room. The mantel-piece was of dark grey marble, and the very andirons, fender, &c., had no glaring brass about them, but were made of polished steel. A large and well filled book-case stood at the end of the room opposite the fire-place—a bronze bust of John Huss stood upon the top of it. _That_ was the old man’s hero. On Friday morning succeeding their visit to Heath Hall—this parlor was in its highest state of perfection—everything glittered with a sober polished steel sort of brilliancy—like a “friend’s” wit and humor. They were ready for Miss Churchill. Sophie at the Hall was preparing for her removal—all her small effects and Hagar’s slender stock of clothing were put in order and packed. On Friday morning they were quite ready. On Friday morning Mrs. May’s maid rode over on a side-saddle and carried a note to Sophie Churchill. The note was from Emily, of course, and ran thus— “Come, my little partridge, are you ready to fly?—your nest in the grove is quite ready—the sweetest little nest you ever saw. I have put up white muslin curtains to your bed and windows, laid down a new home-made carpet on your floor, whitened your hearth, and hung your favorite picture of the Madonna and child over the chimney-piece. Kitty and I have made some seed cakes to-day—and Mr. May has just received from Baltimore Scott’s new novel of ‘Ivanhoe.’ I await your arrival to cut the leaves—shall we not be happy to-morrow? I have borrowed Mrs. Gardiner Green’s carryall and shall be at your door by seven in the morning. I design that you shall breakfast with us, so be ready for migration, my bird. “EMILY.”