I expect to find my own little garden, which has been so long deserted, quite covered with weeds when I get home; and as to the seeds that I set in the spring, it is very likely the flowers never came up, because there was no one there to water them in the hot weather.

The little girl whom my sisters found at the fisherman's hut at Hastings, is become very fond of us all. She begins to talk English very nicely, and talks a great deal too. She has almost forgotten how she came to England, or whom she was with; but she calls my father, papa, and Isabel, ma sœur, When she was first brought into our drawing-room at Hastings, she stooped down and rubbed the carpet with her hands, repeating several times, "comme cela, comme cela, comme cela." Isabel took her upon her knee and shewed her her watch, and then she said, "Why not ring ?"-upon

which papa pulled out his gold repeater; she instantly touched the spring, and, when it struck, jumped about the room with joy, crying, "It rings! it rings! papa's watch rings !"

I wish you could see our dear little Emmy; she is very good-humoured and lively, and mamma says it is quite evident that she has been accustomed to a better way of life than that in the poor fisherman's hut.

I have found some very pretty pebbles and shells on the beach; one of the former is called an agate, and mamma means to have it mounted because I picked it up: it is of a beautiful red

colour.

I am glad to hear the rabbits are going on well, but I dare say Flora will have no recollection of me next time I see her; indeed, for my own part, I do not think that rabbits can remember those who are kind to them. Papa says

that the nature of a rabbit is very *different from that of a dog; for a dog does really possess gratitude and attachment, and a rabbit does not..

This is the first letter I have written

since we left home, and as I have neither very good pens, nor very good ink, nor very good paper, I must defer writing a longer one till we are there again. When we are seated in our own breakfast parlour, and I am once more "perched up" at my own little writing-desk, you may expect a more entertaining epistle from your affectionate

CHARLOTTE.

LETTER XI.

CAROLINE to ELLEN.

Chepstow, August 20. AND now, my dearest Ellen, we are actually in Wales, at least if Monmouthshire may be called such. Papa tells

me that it belongs to the English circuit, but that does not signify to me, and I shall call it Wales notwithstanding.

I will now give you the whole account of our journey from Gloucester, where we parted with Emily, to this place. As we only got there late the evening before we left, we rose early the following morning on purpose to visit the beautiful cathedral, wells, walks, &c. Whilst we were rambling about, some one pointed to a high hill at a distance, and told us it was called Robin Hood's hill, and that there was a spring of water on the top of it, which, by means of pipes, supplied the whole city with water. I was just going to ask why it belonged to Robin Hood, and if it were not remarkable for a spring of water to be found on so high a hill, when one of the servants came to say the carriage This drove the subject

was waiting.

out of my head, and I had not thought of it since, till I began to consider what I should say to you.

We had a pleasant ride to Nuneham, where we dined. The country between Gloucester and this place is interspersed with hills and woods, and I was quite charmed with the little white cottages which peeped here and there at every turn in the road:

"And round the cot's romantic glade were seen The blossom'd bean-field and the sloping green."

Indeed, they were generally surrounded by little fields or gardens, and most of them had a little porch before the door, overgrown with roses and woodbines, in some of which the mother of the family was seated at work, while her playful children were running about by her side. Oh, my dear Ellen! how happy you and I could be together in one of