My sister Annette hurried on her clothes as soon as she heard of my arrival, and jumped about me half mad with joy. She then ran for the doll, which your sister Emilia sent her, and made me observe how well she had preserved it, and asked twenty questions in a breath about this dear sister of your’s. In the midst of them, the maid came to tell her that her writing master waited for her. I wish it was an hour earlier, said she, with tears in her eyes; the moment I see you I am forced to leave you; another day, I should not mind writing four copies; but to-day I know not how to go. Well, said my mother, observing the tears she tried to hide, we will desire the master, for this time, to excuse you. Annette stood a moment irresolute, then ran to her mother, and said, it is from pure goodness that you indulge me; but I know you would rather I did not neglect my writing. Besides, good Mr. M—— might be displeased with me; it would not be right to send such an old man away, I will take my lesson. Would not Emilia do so? and she skipped out of the room. I believe all children might be induced to learn to read and write, if it was made an amusement to them, without all that gloom which generally accompanies lessons. Children are very fond of imitating men if they are allowed to follow their own inclinations; yet are averse to constraint: but you will think me too serious. And I hasten to tell you what I suffered when I left your dear family. Your father’s kindness melted my very soul, and even the expectation of seeing the best of parents did not cheer me when I first got into the packet-boat. Farewell, sometime think of your affectionate friend, WILLIAM. P. S. The anniversary of Emilia’s birth is now past without my being able to celebrate it with you. With what delight should I have gathered her a nosegay of my best flowers, those hyacinths and jonquils, which I raised with so much care. But I was denied that pleasure; my heart longs to tell her all the good wishes you must now present to her in my name. May she be as happy as I wish her to be! I need say no more. LETTER II. CHARLES _to_ WILLIAM. Believe me, my dear William, I very severely feel your absence: you will be convinced of this when I tell you, that this house, in which my best friends, my parents reside, for the first time in my life appeared dreary to me. I ran from room to room, and could scarcely believe that I am at home. I went into the chamber where we used to amuse ourselves; but vainly did I endeavour to pursue the same employments; I recollected, every instant, that I was alone, and should have wept, only I was ashamed of being so weak. My greatest pleasure was in looking over your drawings, and pointing out their beauties to Emilia.