The skies are wistful some days with blue that is always brushed over by clouds: England's same still blue beyond her changing vapours. The evenings are cosy with lamps and November fires and with new books that no hand opens. A few late flowers still bloom, loyal to youth in a world that asks of them now only their old age. The birds sit silent with ruffled feathers and look sturdy and established on the bare shrubs: liberals in spring, conservatives in autumn, wise in season. The larger trees strip their summer flippancies from them garment by garment and stand in their noble nakedness, a challenge to the cold. The dogs began to wait for you the day you left. They wait still, resolved at any cost to show that they can be patient; that is, well-bred. The one of them who has the higher intelligence! The other evening I filled and lighted your pipe and held it out to him as I have often seen you do. He struck the floor softly with the tip of his tail and smiled with his eyes very tenderly at me, as saying: "You want to see whether I remember that _he_ did that; of course I remember." Then, with a sudden suspicion that he was possibly being very stupid, with quick, gruff bark he ran out of the room to make sure. Back he came, his face in broad silent laughter at himself and his eyes announcing to me--"Not yet." Do not all these things touch you with homesickness amid the desolation of the Grand Canal--with the shallow Venetian songs that patter upon the ear but do not reach down into strong Northern English hearts? I have already written this morning to Mrs. Blackthorne. As each of you hands my letters to the other, these petty chronicles, sent out divided here in England, become united in a foreign land. I am, dear Mr. Blackthorne, Respectfully yours, ANNE RAEBURN. JUDD & JUDD TO BEVERLEY SANDS _December 27._ DEAR SIR: We have to report that the ferns recently shipped to a designated address in England in accordance with your instructions have been returned with charges for return shipment to be collected at our office. We enclose our bill for these charges and ask your attention to it at your early convenience. The ferns are ruined and worthless to us. Very truly yours, JUDD & JUDD. BEVERLEY SANDS TO JUDD & JUDD _December 30._ DEAR SIRS: I am very much obliged to you for your letter and I take the greatest pleasure imaginable in enclosing my cheque to cover the charges of the return shipment. Very truly yours, BEVERLEY SANDS. BEVERLEY SANDS TO BEN DOOLITTLE _December 28._ DEAR BEN: _The ferns have come back to me from England!_ BEVERLEY. BEN DOOLITTLE TO BEVERLEY SANDS _December 29._ DEAR BEVERLEY: I am with you, brother, to the last root. But don't send any more ferns to anybody--don't try to, for God's sake! I'm with you! _J'y suis, J'y reste_. (French forever! _Boutez en avant, mon_ French!)