ginning to end. I recite sometimes to his daughter, Lucy Emerson, a very pretty girl, with the brightest eyes and little dancing black curls, but the sharpest thing you ever saw. She won't let me make a mistake, her eyes go right through me. I told Mr. Emerson I would rather recite to him or to Miss Monroe. He laughed and said he was glad Lucy was so correct. I think he and she mean to be kind — but oh! duty and pleasure have to be kept seperate. I miss home and Keene very much, but Mrs. P is very kind and gives me rather too good a breakfast. I have to walk up a steep hill, and then go up four flights of stairs, and I suffer a pain in my chest after all that. I trust your tic doloureaux is better.
"Ever your loving
"M. E."_____
(From my mother to me.)
"Dear Mary Elizabeth, — Seperate is not correct. Separate would be nearer right. Are you not to study the English branches at Mr. Emerson's school? I am sure I knew how to spell Separate at your age. Now, my dear child, exercise all your talents and all your principles. This is your first absence from home. Try to lay the foundations of a useful character. Remember, life is not all play. I miss your sympathy, and sometimes think I have thrown my own sorrows and cares on you too early. "We are already counting the days until you come home at Christmas.
"Your mother,
"M. L. W."_____
"Dear Mother, — I have bought my winter suit. It is of blue merino, with a spot of brown in it, like an autumn leaf, and a lovely blue silk cloak lined with a brown satin; a bonnet of blue, with Marabout feathers, and rosebuds — O, just the sweetest thing you ever saw ! Willlam says it is very becoming. I wore it all to Dr. Lowell's church last Sunday, and I could not help thinking of myself, all the time. There is a great pleasure in new clothes, isn't there? Do you think we attend to clothes quite enough, at Keene ? Here the girls talk and think of them, a great deal. I fear I have spent too much money, nearly one hundred dollars, since I left you, but I think I have got all I need get, for the winter. I am getting on pretty well at Mr. Emerson's, although it is as hard as a galley slave's life. I wish I could sit down and tell you all about C——— and M——— and Susan — nice girls all of them. M. P. sings as delightfully as ever, and is the belle of all our little parties.
