My sisters Penserosas were dispersed on their arrival in town, by the joy of seeing Louisa and their dear little brother Billy again, our kind and excellent Uncle Giradot, and Uncle Lewis André. I was glad to see them, but they complained, not without reason, of the gloom upon my countenance. Billy wept for joy that we were returned, while poor _cher Jean_ was ready to weep for sorrow. Louisa is grown still handsomer since we left her. Our sisters, Mary and Anne, knowing your partiality to beauty, are afraid that, when they introduce her to you, she will put their noses out of joint. Billy is not old enough for me to be afraid of in the rival-way, else I should keep him aloof, for his heart is formed of those affectionate materials so dear to the ingenuous taste of Julia and her Honora. I sympathize in your resentment against the canonical dons who stumpify the heads of those good green[87] people, beneath whose friendly shade so many of your happiest hours have glided away--but they defy them; let them stumpify as much as they please, time will repair the mischief; their verdant arms will again extend and invite you to their shelter. The evenings grow long. I hope your conversation round the fire will sometimes fall on the Andrés; it will be a great comfort that they are remembered. We chink our glasses to your healths at every meal. "Here's to our Lichfieldian friends," says Nanny. "Oh-h!" says Mary. "With all my soul, say I." "_Allons!_" cries my mother--and the draught seems nectar. The libation made, we begin our uncloying theme, and so beguile the gloomy evening. Mr. and Mrs. Seward will accept my most affectionate respects. My male friend at Lichfield will join in your conversation on the Andrés. Among the numerous good qualities he is possessed of, he certainly has gratitude, and then he can not forget those who so sincerely love and esteem him. I, in particular, shall always recall with pleasure the happy hours I have passed in his company. My friendship for him, and for your family, has diffused itself, like the precious ointment from Aaron's beard, on everything which surrounds you; therefore I beg you would give my amities to the whole town. Persuade Honora to forgive the length and ardor of the enclosed, and believe me truly, Your affectionate and faithful friend, J. André. LETTER II. London, _October 19, 1769_.