such a lovely creature. Do you remember a poem of mine, about three weeks ago, in the 'Gazette,' called 'Elise?' I can assure you it is but a faint description of her. I met at their house the author of 'May you Like it,' and 'The Human Heart,' three volumes of the most exquisite tales in the English language; if you have not read them, you have a treat to come; pray notice my two especial favourites, 'The Childhood of Charles Spenser,' and 'The Ladye Amoret, a romance.' * *

"I am sure, my dearest———, I must say with the song, 'There is no place like home;' for, on my return, I found the most charming of parcels awaiting me. It was too much at once—as to the dress, I think that I never saw anything more beautiful. I am going to a very gay breakfast in Park-lane this week, and was turning in my mind that most important subject, costume; and now I have the very prettiest I could ever have imagined—all the hearts it captivates I shall put in my bag, and I am sure they must be satisfied. I am so much obliged to———'s, and your fingers for it. . . . .

"I am sure, for the last three days, I might have been exhibited to idle apprentices, instead of George Barnwell; I mean as an example of industry—not having had, nor having, the slightest intention of murdering any of my uncles. But I do want 'a small piece of pleasure;' so will you drink an early tea with me to-day? then you may go away in time for tea at home—it will be a great charity."

"What can I say in the way of gratitude to you? I never saw anything prettier than the caps—and I put this in a little modest parenthesis (I never had anything so becoming). I have not gone to