defense
to be made.

Eustace informed me that he had told his stories to the children in
various situations--in the woods, on the shore of the lake, in the
dell of Shadow Brook, in the playroom, at Tanglewood fireside, and in a
magnificent palace of snow, with ice windows, which he helped his
little friends to build. His auditors were even more delighted with
the contents of the present volume than with the specimens which have
already been given to the world. The classically learned Mr. Pringle,
too, had listened to two or three of the tales, and censured them even
more bitterly than he did THE THREE GOLDEN APPLES; so that, what with
praise, and what with criticism, Eustace Bright thinks that there is
good hope of at least as much success with the public as in the case of
the "WonderBook."

I made all sorts of inquiries about the children, not doubting that
there would be great eagerness to hear of their welfare, among some good
little folks who have written to me, to ask for another volume of myths.
They are all, I am happy to say (unless we except Clover), in excellent
health and spirits. Primrose is now almost a young lady, and, Eustace
tells me, is just as saucy as ever. She pretends to consider herself
quite beyond the age to be interested by such idle stories as these;
but, for all that, whenever a story is to be told, Primrose never
fails to be one of the listeners, and to make fun of it when finished.
Periwinkle is very much grown, and is expected to shut up her baby house
and throw away her doll in a month or two more. Sweet Fern has learned
to read and write, and has put on a jacket and pair of pantaloons--all
of which improvements I am sorry for. Squash Blossom, Blue Eye,
Plantain, and Buttercup have had the scarlet fever, but came easily
through it. Huckleberry, Milkweed, and Dandelion were attacked with the
whooping cough, but bore it bravely, and kept out of doors whenever the
sun shone. Cowslip, during the autumn, had either the measles, or some
eruption that looked very much like it, but was hardly sick a day. Poor
Clover has been a good deal troubled with her second teeth, which have
made her meagre in aspect and rather fractious in temper; nor, even when
she smiles, is the matter much mended, since it discloses a gap just
within her lips, almost as wide as the barn door. But all this will pass
over, and it is predicted that she will turn out a very pretty girl.

As for Mr. Bright himself, he is no