ron," which we used to read of in one of Everett's
Orations, and all its wide-reaching consequences in the affairs of
Europe. I hunted up that cup of tea as diligently as ever a Boston
matron sought for the last leaves in her old caddy after the tea-chests
had been flung overboard at Griffin's wharf,--but no matter about that,
now. That is the way things come about in this world. I must write a
lecture on lucky mishaps, or, more elegantly, fortunate calamities. It
will be just the converse of that odd essay of Swift's we read together,
the awkward and stupid things done with the best intentions. Perhaps I
shall deliver the lecture in your city: you will come and hear it, and
bring him, won't you, dearest? Always, your loving

LURIDA.

MISS LURIDA VINCENT TO MRS. EUTHYMIA KIRKWOOD.

It seems forever since you left us, dearest Euthymia! And are you, and
is your husband, and Paolo,--good Paolo,--are you all as well and happy
as you have been and as you ought to be? I suppose our small village
seems a very quiet sort of place to pass the winter in, now that you
have become accustomed to the noise and gayety of a great city. For all
that, it is a pretty busy place this winter, I can tell you. We have
sleighing parties,--I never go to them, myself, because I can't keep
warm, and my mind freezes up when my blood cools down below 95 or 96
deg. Fahrenheit. I had a great deal rather sit by a good fire and
read about Arctic discoveries. But I like very well to hear the bells'
jingling and to see the young people trying to have a good time as hard
as they do at a picnic. It may be that they do, but to me a picnic is
purgatory and a sleigh-ride that other place, where, as my favorite
Milton says, "frost performs the effect of fire." I believe I have
quoted him correctly; I ought to, for I could repeat half his poems from
memory once, if I cannot now.

You must have plenty of excitement in your city life. I suppose you
recognized yourself in one of the society columns of the "Household
Inquisitor:" "Mrs. E. K., very beautiful, in an elegant," etc., etc,
"with pearls," etc., etc.,--as if you were not the ornament of all that
you wear, no matter what it is!

I am so glad that you have married a scholar! Why should not
Maurice--you both tell me to call him so--take the diplomatic office
which has been offered him? It seems to me that he would find himself in
exactly the right place. He can talk in two or three languages, has