"This year we are occupying the roadside house, which, although not so beautiful as the new one on the side-hill, nor so retired and romantic as the one in the woods still is lovely and has a very charming prospect. It stands on sloping ground that is skirted by forest and fruit trees. Some of them throw their grateful shade on the piazza and balcony that run the width of the front of the house. My room opens on the balcony by three French windows, and here I often walk to catch the last gleam of departing day, or linger after nightfall to see the far-away stars come out. The moonrise here is perfectly enchanting, climbing up as it does over the eastern hills, and throwing its pensive light over the silent meadows, and distant, dark woods. "But I have filled my sheet before speaking of your engagement. As I have not seen your handsome doctor, you will not expect me to be enthusiastic. I hear that he is intelligent, clever in his profession, and of excellent character, but not rich. Well Evangeline, you know I approve of wealth, combined with other good qualifications; but if I had to choose between a man of mind and a man of money, I don't think I would hesitate long which to take; so you are sure of my approbation, and you have my best wishes for your future happiness. "Your loving cousin, "MARGUERITE." _June 29_. A visit yesterday from our friend Mrs. Sarah L. Hopper, the clever contributor to several Southern journals. Among them the _Washington Gazette_, and the _True Woman_--the latter an anti-suffrage journal. Mrs. Hopper not only writes well; she is also a woman of varied and excellent reading, and the appreciation of the modern classics is displayed in one of her poems--an admirable apostrophe to the character and works of Dante. This poem, which was published some time since, Mrs. Hopper once recited to us, and both mamma and I were struck with the true ring of poesy so apparent in it. _June 30_. Upon returning from church yesterday, we found the front door standing open, a couple of arm-chairs upon the piazza, and a newspaper or two in lieu of the occupants--proof unmistakable of a masculine invasion. Who it was we could not imagine; that it was not a neighbor we were convinced by seeing the morning _Herald_ and _Times_, for the Sunday papers cannot be obtained here, save by being at the depot when the interminable way-train comes up from New York, and waylaying the newsboy who accompanies the cars; and for this our neighbors are rarely sufficiently enterprising. Unmistakably our visitors had come from the city. Upon questioning Minna, she gave us a graphic description of the gentlemen. One was "tall, oh so tall! with dark hair and red cheeks"--in him we recognized Mr. Walworth Ward--the other was a blonde gentleman whom she had seen here before. "Lina has already made wine _padding_," she said, seeing Ida about to descend and inspect the larder. "Miss no fret--all right."