tle boy who followed us in if he could point out "Little
Jane's" grave; he said he could and led us at once to the spot. How
little she dreamed that pilgrimages would be made to her grave! Our
pigmy guide next conducted us to the grave-stones, where her task was
learned. "How old are you, little fellow?" I asked. "_Getting an
to five_," he replied. "And does everybody who comes here give you
something?" "_Some_ don't." "That's very naughty of them," I continued;
"after all your trouble they ought to give you something." A shrewd
smile was his answer, and George then gave him some pennies. "What do
you do with your pennies?" I asked. "I puts them in my pocket." "And
then what do you do?" "I saves them up." "And what then?" "My mother
buys shoe's when I get enough. She is going to buy me some soon with
_nails_ in them! These are dropping to pieces" (no such thing). "If that
is the case," quoth George, "I think I must give you some more pennies."
"Thank you," said the boy. "Do you see my sword?" George then asked him
if he went to church and to Sunday-school. "Oh, yes, and there was
an organ, and they learned to sing psalms." "And to love God?" asked
George. "Yes, yes," he answered, but not with much unction, and so we
turned about and came home.

_To Mrs. Stearns, Ventnor, Aug. 24, 1860._

As this is to be our last letter home, it ought to be a very brilliant
one, but I am sure it won't; and when I look back over the past two
years and think how many stupid ones I have written you, I feel almost
ashamed of myself. But on the other hand I wonder I have written no
duller ones, for our staying so long at a time in one place has given
small chance for variety and description. It is raining and blowing at a
rate that you, who are roasting at home, can hardly conceive; we agreed
yesterday that if you were blindfolded and suddenly set down here and
told to guess what season of the year it was, you would judge by your
feelings and the wind roaring down the chimney, that it was December.
However disagreeable this may be it is more invigorating than hot
weather, and George and the children have all improved very much. George
enjoys bathing and climbing the "downs" and the children are out nearly
all day when it does not rain. You may remember that the twilight is
late in England, and even the baby is often out till half-past eight or
nine.... I just keep my head above water by having no cares or fatigue
at night. I feel _dreadfull