ening, just as well as
Isabella Wardour, in _The Antiquary_, is made to
read the _History of the Hartz Demon_, in the
ruins of St. Ruth; though I believe, upon
recollection, Lovell is the reader. By the bye, my
dear Edward, I am quite concerned for the loss
your mother mentions in her letter. Two chapters
and a half to be missing is monstrous! It is well
that _I_ have not been at Steventon lately, and
therefore cannot be suspected of purloining them:
two strong twigs and a half towards a nest of my
own would have been something. I do not think,
however, that any theft of that sort would be
really very useful to me. What should I do with
your strong, manly, spirited sketches, full of
variety and glow? How could I possibly join them
on to the little bit (two inches wide) of ivory on
which I work with so fine a brush, as produces
little effect after much labour?

You will hear from uncle Henry how well Anna is.
She seems perfectly recovered. Ben was here on
Saturday, to ask uncle Charles and me to dine with
them, as to-morrow, but I was forced to decline
it, the walk is beyond my strength (though I am
otherwise very well), and this is not a season for
donkey-carriages; and as we do not like to spare
uncle Charles, he has declined it too.

_Tuesday._ Ah, ha! Mr. Edward. I doubt your seeing
uncle Henry at Steventon to-day. The weather will
prevent your expecting him, I think. Tell your
father, with aunt Cass's love and mine, that the
pickled cucumbers are extremely good, and tell him
also--'tell him what you will.' No, don't tell him
what you will, but tell him that grandmamma begs
him to make Joseph Hall pay his rent, if he can.

You must not be tired of reading the word _uncle_,
for I have not done with it. Uncle Charles thanks
your mother for her letter; it was a great
pleasure to him to know the parcel was received
and gave so much satisfaction, and he begs her to
be so good as to give three shillings for him to
Dame Staples, which shall be allowed for in the
payment of her debt here.

I a