t come to me when I'm away if they were only rightly
addressed, but letters are never legible on the back; it is a perfect
mystery to me how the postmen ever find out where to go to with letters,
and they are such illiterate men too! But what can one expect in a
world of inconsistencies, where things are all topsy-turvy, so to speak,
though I don't like slang, and never use it except when there is a want
of a proper what-d'ye-call-it to express one's thingumy-jigs. Don't you
think so, Captain Bowels?"

"Certainly; I think your observations are very just, and much to the
point."

Kenneth Stuart retired to a window and read his letter, which ran as
follows:--

"Wreckumoft, _etcetera_.

"My Dear Kenneth--Since you left I have been thinking over your affairs,
and our last conversation, (which you must allow me to style
disagreeable), in regard to Miss Gordon. I trust that you have now seen
the impropriety of thinking of that portionless girl as your wife. At
all events, you may rest assured that on the day you marry her you shall
be disinherited. You know me well enough to be aware that this is not
an idle threat.

"In the hope and expectation that you will agree with me in this matter,
I venture to suggest to you the propriety of trying to win the
affections of Miss Crusty. You already know that her fortune will be a
large one. I recommend this subject to your earnest consideration.

"Your affectionate father, George Stuart."

"Deary me, Kennie," said Miss Peppy, in some alarm, "I hope that nothing
has happened! You seem so troubled that--"

"Oh! nothing of any consequence," said Kenneth with a laugh, as he
folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

"Ha! your lady-love is unkind," cried Bella; "I know it is from _her_."

"The writing is not lady-like," replied Kenneth, holding up the back of
the letter for inspection. "It is a gentleman's hand, you see."

"Ladies sometimes write what I may call a masculine hand," observed the
captain.

"You are quite right, Captain Bowels," said Miss Peppy; "some write all
angles and some all rounds. One never knows how one is to expect one's
correspondents to write. Not that I have many, but one of them writes
square, a most extraordinary hand, and quite illegible. Most people
seem to be proud of not being able to write, except schoolboys and
girls. There is no accounting for the surprising things that are
scratched on paper with a pen and called writing. Bu