one's ideals are changed. I had my usual yearly
"token" from my friend of the fog this spring--just a newspaper posted
from New York, as before, so that I know he is alive and well, but I
long to know more, and sometimes it seems as if I never should.
Sometimes--when I am in the blues--I feel as if that night was the only
time in my life when I was really and truly of use. I suppose that's
what makes me remember it so well, and think so much of the poor man. I
can remember his face still--so distinctly! Poor, poor fellow! Father
says it's more difficult than ever to make money nowadays. He may work
all his life, and never be able to pay off his debts.

Cynthia! No; Cynthia is _not_ well. We didn't tell you before, because
it's horrid to write bad news, and you two were good friends. Besides,
we hoped she would get better. It began six months ago with an attack
of influenza. She did not seem to throw it off, but grew thin, and
coughed--a horrid cough! They took her away, and did everything they
could, but so far she is no better, and I'm afraid there's no doubt that
her lungs are affected. Mrs Alliot is awfully anxious, and so is her
father, who has retired now, as you know, and is home for good. They
have taken her away to the sea, and she lives out of doors, and has a
nurse, and everything that can possibly be got to make her better. She
is very thin, but is quite bright and cheerful, and thinks about
everybody in the world but herself. They hope she will get better; she
_must_ get better--she's so young, and dear, and lovely, and everything
that's sweet. I can't tell you what Cynthia has been to me all these
years! Pray for her, Miles--pray _hard_! I rend the heavens for
Cynthia's life.

That's all, old boy--I have no more news. Bother the nuggets! Come
home the instant you can. Father doesn't believe in gold-mines. Don't
let "my chum Gerard" lead you into any wild-goose chase!--Always your
lovingest sister, Betty.

_From General Digby to Jack Trevor_.

My dear Boy,--If you were my own son (which I wish you were!) I could
not have felt happier and prouder than I did on the receipt of your
letter this morning. To hear that you have decided to read for the
ministry, and that you attribute the origin of this choice to some
chance words of mine uttered years ago--that is indeed an unexpected
joy! This tongue of mine has uttered so many foolish sayings in its
time, and got me into so much tro