Your sister?—No, I have nothing to do with her, but I _have_ with you. Buy proper bonnets,—then get them altered— Whereon I vowed that if she didn’t come to London and choose one, I’d buy the ugliest in Tottenham Court Road. My compliments to Mrs. Heath, and she oughtn’t to compromise her taste by letting you buy such bonnets, etc., etc. So very very refreshingly, and with such bright arch eyes.” It was certainly no lack of appreciation in the ordinary relationships of life that urged S. J.-B. to find her vocation. There are many indications of her popularity at this time among cousins and friends. “DEAREST SOPHY,” writes the mistress of Honing Hall,—“It will be _delightful_ to see you here. How often have I said to myself lately (having no one else to address my remarks to,—your Uncle being entirely taken up with his harvest, and more bothered than ever by it). ‘I do wish Sophy would offer her company for a few days.’ So, well pleased was I to see your handwriting this morning. I can meet you anywhere within reasonable distance. On Thursdays I have only your old friend, Little Grey, and on Tuesday, 30th., some of the Catfield people are coming over. Should you be here then, it would be an additional pleasure to _all_.” And here is a characteristic note: “DEAR MISS BLAKE, ... Pray bring back from America a few more such good stories as you told me yesterday. I say this _not_ ‘hoping I should see your face no more’. Yours very truly, FRANCES P. COBBE.” On November 11th S. J.-B. received a letter that pleased her much from the Revd. T. D. C. Morse, rector of Stretford, Manchester: “MADAM,