was perched up in
the carriage with Clarendon, and in five minutes more had taken leave of
every thing at home but Uncle Jack, who was driving us to the cars, in
which we were to start for Baltimore.

You have heard so much of New York and Boston, that I cannot, probably,
tell you any thing new about them, though, to be sure, when there, I
felt as if the half had not been told me. All the streets and houses
look so nice and comfortable in the New England towns, that I cannot
imagine where the poor people live. At the hotel in New York, when I
rang the bell, such a nice-looking young gentleman came to our door,
that I thought he was a fellow-boarder who had made a mistake in the
room. I asked him, very politely, if he would have the kindness to tell
me where any servants were to be found, as they did not answer the bell.

He stared at this request, and then answered, quite proudly,--"I wait on
gentlemen, my young friend; but we are all free men here."

I cannot get used to this new state of affairs, and should be quite out
of patience, having to do so many things for myself, if brother
Clarendon did not keep me laughing all the while with his perfect fits
of despair. But he is calling to me to stop writing, for, since here in
Marblehead they won't let him have any peace in sleeping till eleven
o'clock, he insists on going to bed with the chickens, or he shall die
for want of rest.

Love to all, men, women, and children, horses and dogs, from your
affectionate cousin,

PIDGIE BEVERLEY.

LETTER II.

FITTING OUT FOR THE CRUISE.

TO BENNIE ALLERTON AT BELLISLE.

Marblehead, July 3d, 1846.

DEAR BENNIE,--Just now I heard a rolling of small wheels, and then the
barking of a dog. Forgetting where I was, I thought of you and Watch,
and walked to the window actually expecting to see you, with Watch in
his new harness, drawing the little wagon. I only saw a strange boy,
rolling a wheelbarrow along, with a great Newfoundland dog at his side,
which I should have bought for you if I could have sent it back to
Virginia. But, after all, you would not have liked it as well as Watch,
and I am sure that I don't know of a fault he has, but chasing chickens
and every thing else on the road, besides barking all night when the
moon shines.

I always liked moonlight nights, but never knew half how glorious they
were till now. Last evening, Clarendon said, it was too ridiculous for
him to be going to bed when it was so be