ed her where she
lived, to which she replied, "In the world." We are all on the _qui
vive_ about the war news, especially Louis Napoleon's downfall, and
you may depend we are glad he has used himself up. You can not bring
anything to the children that will please them as seeds would. It
delights me to see them so interested in garden work. Perhaps this will
be my last letter.

Your loving Mammie.

* * * * *

III.

Further Glimpses of her Dorset Life.

The following Recollections of Mrs. Prentiss by her friend, Mrs.
Frederick Field, now of San Jose, California, afford additional glimpses
of her home life in Dorset. The picture is drawn in fair colors; but it
is as truthful as it is fair:

It was the first Sunday in September, 1866. A quiet, perfect day among
the green hills of Vermont; a sacramental Sabbath, and we had come seven
miles over the mountain to go up to the house of the Lord. I had brought
my little two-months-old baby in my arms, intending to leave her during
the service at our brother's home, which was near the church. I knew
that Mrs. Prentiss was a "summer-boarder" in this home, that she was
the wife of a distinguished clergyman, and a literary woman of decided
ability; but it was before the "Stepping Heavenward" epoch of her life,
and I had no very deep interest in the prospect of meeting her. We went
in at the hospitably open door, and meeting no one, sat down in the
pleasant family living-room. It was about noon, and we could hear
cheerful voices talking over the lunch-table in the dining-room.
Presently the door opened, and a slight, delicate-featured woman, with
beautiful large dark eyes, came with rapid step into the room, going
across to the hall door; but her quick eye caught a glimpse of my little
"bundle of flannel," and not pausing for an introduction or word
of preparatory speech, she came towards me with a beaming face and
outstretched hands:--

"O, have you a baby there? How delightful! I haven't seen one for such
an age,--please, may I take it? the darling tiny creature!--a girl? How
lovely!"

She took the baby tenderly in her arms and went on in her eager, quick,
informal way, but with a bright little blush and smile,--"I'm not very
polite--pray, let me introduce myself! I'm Mrs. Prentiss, and you are
Mrs. F---, I know."

After a little more sweet, motherly comment and question over the
baby,--"a touch of nature" which at once made us "akin,"