et a very fair-looking girl in her way."

I suppose this long letter will not go till I have a chance of writing
another, all about myself; but if it does, you ca imagine that I am
spending my time pretty much as I have described before; and believe me
still your affectionate cousin,

PIDGIE.

LETTER VIII.

DAVID'S GLIMPSE OF NOBILITY.

FROM PIDGIE TO BENNIE.

Schooner Go-Ahead, August 16th, 1846.

You will see by the date, dear Bennie, that more than two weeks have
passed since I last wrote to you. In the mean time your poor cousin
Pidgie has been lying on his straw-bed, sick with a fever. It has been
rather gloomy, to be sure; but now that I am better I can think of
nothing but the kindness of the sailors. It must be the salt water which
keeps their hearts so good and warm, for when any one is in real trouble
they are as tender as little children. There were two or three of them,
whom I had not even thought worth mentioning, that spent every moment,
when they were not busy, in trying to amuse me. One had been to China,
and you don't know how many curious things he had seen there. He tells
me that there is a Chinese museum in Boston, and when I go back there I
shall visit it, and I will try and remember every thing worthy of notice
to tell you on my return. How many pleasant evenings we shall spend
together, in the old school-room at Bellisle, with all the girls sitting
by the long window, or near us out on the porch!

I love the sea, and yet I long to take a stroll down the lawn before
your door on the sweet green grass. It is a blessed thing that
travelling of any kind has so much to interest, or else how would any
one ever be able to make up his mind to leave home?

Since I have heard poor Dick's story I don't much wish to go to a public
school; but Clarendon says that's a silly prejudice, for it was the same
disposition which made him unhappy at home, that prevented the school
from being of service to him. Yet I am afraid that I have not principle
enough to go among so many boys and do what is right. It is harder to be
laughed at by those of our own age than by older people. I have learned
this lately, for I find that I don't feel half as much ashamed when
brother makes fun of what he calls my Methodistical habits, as I do of
David's ridicule. He has a way of putting aside all the reasons I give
him for doing right, as if they were so utterly unworthy of a boy's
consideration, that I hardly dare to