ttle in charity to the poor!

Now, reader, you may have forgotten it, but if you turn back to near the
beginning of this chapter, you will perceive that all we have been
writing about is a huge digression, for which we refuse to make the
usual apology.

We return again to Mrs Frog where we left her, sitting beside her
cheerful fire, sewing and conversing with Hetty.

"I can't bear to think of 'im, Hetty," said Mrs Frog. "You an' me
sittin' here so comfortable, with as much to eat as we want, an' to
spare, while your poor father is in a cold cell. He's bin pretty bad to
me of late, it's true, wi' that drink, but he wasn't always like that,
Hetty; even you can remember him before he took to the drink."

"Yes, mother, I can, and, bless the Lord, he may yet be better than he
ever was. When is his time up?"

"This day three weeks. The twelve months will be out then. We must
pray for 'im, Hetty."

"Yes, mother. I am always prayin' for him. You know that."

There was a touch of anxiety in the tones and faces of both mother and
daughter as they talked of the father, for his home-coming might,
perhaps, nay probably would, be attended with serious consequences to
the renovated household. They soon changed the subject to one more
agreeable.

"Isn't Bobby's letter a nice one, mother?" said Hetty, "and so well
written, though the spellin' might have been better; but then he's had
so little schoolin'."

"It just makes my heart sing," returned Mrs Frog. "Read it again to
me, Hetty. I'll never tire o' hearin' it. I only wish it was longer."

The poor mother's wish was not unnatural, for the letter which Bobby had
written was not calculated to tax the reader's patience, and, as Hetty
hinted, there was room for improvement, not only in the spelling but in
the writing. Nevertheless, it had carried great joy to the mother's
heart. We shall therefore give it _verbatim et literatim_.

Brankly Farm--Kanada.

"Deer Mutrer. wen i left you i promisd to rite so heer gos. this Plase
is eaven upon arth. so pritty an grand. O you never did see the likes.
ide park is nuffin to it, an as for Kensintn gardings--wy to kompair
thems rediklis. theres sitch a nice little gal here. shes wun of deer
mis mukfersons gals--wot the vestenders calls a wafe and sometimes a
strai. were all very fond of er spesially tim lumpy. i shuvd im in the
river wun dai. my--ow e spluterd. but e was non the wus--all the better,
mister an mistress me