tjoy touched on a subject on which the practice of the English
world has been much altered during the last thirty or forty
years;--perhaps we may say fifty or sixty years. Fifty years ago young
ladies were certainly not allowed to receive letters as they chose, and
to write them, and to demand that this practice should be carried on
without any supervision from their elder friends. It is now usually the
case that they do so. A young lady, before she falls into a
correspondence with a young man, is expected to let it be understood
that she does so. But she does not expect that his letters, either
coming or going, shall be subject to any espial, and she generally feels
that the option of obeying or disobeying the instructions given to her
rests with herself. Practically the use of the post-office is in her own
hands. And, as this spirit of self-conduct has grown up, the morals and
habits of our young ladies have certainly not deteriorated. In America
they carry latch-keys, and walk about with young gentlemen as young
gentlemen walk about with each other. In America the young ladies are as
well-behaved as with us,--as well-behaved as they are in some Continental
countries in which they are still watched close till they are given up
as brides to husbands with whom they have had no means of becoming
acquainted. Whether the latch-key system, or that of free
correspondence, may not rob the flowers of some of that delicate aroma
which we used to appreciate, may be a question; but then it is also a
question whether there does not come something in place of it which in
the long-run is found to be more valuable. Florence, when this remark
was made as to her own power of sending and receiving letters, remained
silent, but looked very firm. She thought that it would have been
difficult to silence her after this fashion. "Sir Magnus could have done
it, at any rate, if I had not been able."

"Sir Magnus could have done nothing, I think, which would not have been
within your power. But it is useless talking of this. Will you not take
me back to England, so as to prevent the necessity of Harry coming
here?"

"Why should he come?"

"Because, mamma, I intend to see my future husband before he goes from
me for so great a distance, and for so long a time. Don't you feel any
pity for me, mamma?"

"Do you feel pity for me?"

"Because one day you wish me to marry my cousin Scarborough, and the
next Mr. Anderson, and then the next M. Gras