must say the Avon is rather muddy. Ah, God help you; it is not like our clear Irish streams. Our Bannar for instance; my little Ophelia has a very good song about that too, which shall be forth-coming at the love-lectures: but Heaven is most like the lake of Killarney. There will be also no want of music in Heaven; and, I do suppose, it will be different according to different tastes. For myself, I think the choicest instrument is the Irish bag-*pipe; and should Courtenay be gone there, we cannot have a better hand; I shall find him out, he is a sweet countryman of my own. I forgot to say one article in the eating way, there will be the choicest fruits, especially potatoes. Now having described Heaven, it may be as well to say a few words about hell, although, it being no very agreeable subject, I shall not be after taking up much
