We both desire to thank you for your kind and cordial reception of dear Richard. He wrote and told us how warmly you received him, and how pleased and gratified he was to see you. I trust he will come to see you again on his return from Devon, where he was when we last heard from him. We miss him terribly, and look forward anxiously to meeting him out here again next year, if, please God, we are all spared. James, his wife, and children are living down at Cheltenham. I wonder if there is any chance of your meeting? Sarah Maria is in Cornwall, but they took a house for a term of years near Watford, and will be back there, certainly before Christmas; she had no idea you were in London, and I must tell her of it when I next write to her. We are now in camp, marching about the district; of course I do my office as usual in tents every day--a happy, gipsy kind of life--and dearest Sophie and the little ones always enjoy it. Give my kindest love to Emma and Blanche. I have been intending to write to Emma, and I will really write soon; but in the hot weather one feels terribly indisposed for letter-writing, and I have quite quill-work enough to do every day. Our kindest love to yourself and Horace, and to Jane and Sophia; and many kisses from our little darling. Always your very affectionate cousin, HAROLD SOTHERN. ---- _A Father, who has lately lost his Wife, to his Daughter at School._ Woburn, July 20th. MY DARLING CHILD, I was very pleased and comforted by your last affectionate letter. Bitterly indeed do I miss you! Had I given way to my own selfish wishes, I think I should not have allowed you to return to school. Your dear aunt, however, who is now looking carefully after my domestic affairs, showed me so plainly that by keeping you at home I should be depriving you of the advantages of education, that I sacrificed my feelings for your sake. On reflection, also, I hoped that you would find some little consolation and comfort from association with young ladies of your own age, for here all is cheerless and dreary. The void caused by your dear mother's death can never be refilled; my home is truly desolate. It would have been wrong to keep you at home to share my grief, and thus uselessly add bitterness to your younger years. Do not grieve too long and bitterly, my child, for your dearly loved mother; imitate her in every action of her life; and when Time has slightly moderated your poor father's sorrow, and you are in charge of his home and your own, things may be brighter and more cheerful again. Pray write to me soon, and Believe me, Your ever affectionate father, ---- _A Parent to his Daughter at Service._ Farndon, March 1st, 187-- MY DEAR DAUGHTER,