ame in yours.... I don't set up for a versifier, and you may do
what you please with this.

There is a certain class of child's song which is always taught in the
National system by certificated infant school mistresses. They are
semi-theatrical, very pretty, and serve at once as music, discipline,
and amusement. Such as "The Clock," in which they beat the hours,
swing for the pendulum, etc. There are certain actions in these songs
which express listening.... I am very fond of the National system for
teaching children, and it has struck me that this song is a little of
that type.... I am doubly vexed it is so poor, because your next thing
to "Jerusalem the Golden" ought to be very good. If you can, make your
Processional Hymn very grand, and I will do my very best. I have more
hope of that. Would the metre of Longfellow's "Coplas de Manrique" be
good for music? It would be a fine hymn measure.... Don't hamper
yourself about the metre. I will fit the words to the music.

TO MRS. GATTY.

_S.S. China._ June 10, 1867.

I staggered up yesterday morning to have my first sight of an
iceberg.... The sea was dark-blue, a low line of land (Cape Race) was
visible, and the iceberg stood in the distance dead white, like a lump
of sugar.... I think the first sight of Halifax was one of the
prettiest sights I ever saw. When I first came up there was no
horizon, we were in a sea of mist. Gradually the horizon line
appeared--then a line of low coast--muddy-looking at first--it soon
became marked with lines of dark wood--then the shore dotted with grey
huts--then the sun came out--the breeze got milder--and the air became
strongly redolent of pine-woods. Nearer, the coast became more
defined, though still low, rather bare, and dotted with brushwood, and
grey stones low down, and crowned always with "murmuring pines." As we
came to habitations, which are dotted, and sparkle along the shore,
the effect was what we noticed in Belgium, as if a box of very bright
new toys had been put out to play with, red roofs--even red
houses--cardboard-looking churches--little bright wooden houses--and
stiffish trees mixed everywhere. It looks more like a quaint
watering-place than a city, though there are some fine buildings....
We took a great fancy to the place, which was like a new child's
picture book, and I was rather disappointed to learn it is not to be
our home. But Fredericton, where we are going, has superior advantages
in some respect