“I knew before that ‘West Lawn’ was the name of Mr. Randall’s home, and when I saw it I comprehended at once why it was so called. It was partly because of the long grassy lawn in front, and partly because it stood to the westward of the village, upon a slight eminence which overlooked the adjacent country. It is a delightful place, and Mattie says they have made many improvements since they bought it. But it must have been pleasant before, for it shows marks of care and cultivation given to it years ago. Like that cottage by the brook, it has bay-windows and additions, while I think I never saw so many roses around one spot in my life. There is a perfect wilderness of them, in every shade and variety. These reminded me of Dr. West, who is so fond of roses, and who said once that he would have _his_ home literally covered with them. ‘West Lawn’ would suit him at this season, I am sure. Here in Morrisville I find myself thinking a great deal about Dr. West, and thinking only good of him. I forget all I ever fancied about his littleness, and remember instead how kind he is to the Beechwood poor, who have named at least a dozen children after him. _Mrs. David West!_ I do not see as I shall be able to meet her ladyship, as she evidently does not belong to the Vernor and Randall clique. “But let me narrate events a little more in the order in which they occurred, going back to last night, when we had tea in what Mattie calls the ‘Rose Room,’ because the portico in front is enveloped with roses. Then came a long talk, when Mr. Randall was gone for his evening paper, and when Mattie, nestling up to me, with her head in my lap, just as she used to do in school, told me what a dear fellow her husband was, and how much she loved him. Then some music, I playing my poor accompaniments while Mattie sang her favorite Scotch ballads. Then, at an early hour for me, I went to bed, for Mattie does not like sitting up till midnight. I have a large, airy chamber, which must have been fitted up for a young lady, there are so many closets, and shelves, and presses, with a darling little bath and dressing-room opening out of it. Mattie, who came in to see that I was comfortable, told me this was the only room in which the paper had not been changed. “‘It’s old-fashioned, as you see,’ she said, ‘and must have been on before the time of Mr. Wakely, of whom we bought the house, but it is so pretty and clean that I would not have it touched.’