they be signalled in advance of their anticipated time! And then, when
they had glided up New York Bay and anchored in the Hudson, how rapidly
would my eager impatience bear me to the dingy old Post office "down
town," where I would sometimes have to wait for hours before the letters
were sorted and delivered!

Should there be none for me, I was in despair--imagining all the various
calamities, probable and improbable, that might have happened--although
I might have heard from England only a few days previously; while,
should I obtain a dearly-prized note from my darling, I was in ecstasy--
only to be on the look out for the next mail a moment afterwards!

I was never satisfied.

I remember an official in the Ann Street Bureau asking me one day, what
made me "so almight lonesome" about the "old country;" and "guessing,"
when I took no notice of his question, that I had "a young woman over
the water."

Young woman, indeed! If looks could kill, that inquisitive and ill-
mannered person was a dead man on the spot!

I never heard anything so impertinent in my life!

Her letters!

I could almost see, as I read them, the dear, earnest, soul-lit grey
eyes, gazing once more into mine; the loving little hand that penned
each darling sentence. In fancy, I could mark the changing expressions
that swept across the sweet Madonna face, whose every line I knew so
well, as, down-bent on the rustling paper, some sad or happy
recollection filled her mind for awhile, in detailing those little
events of her daily life which she related to please me. She wrote to
me easily and naturally, just as if she were talking to me--the greatest
charm a letter can have. The written words appeared to speak out to me
in silvery intonations and musical rhythm:--the very violet ink seemed
scented with her breath!

Dear little Miss Pimpernell had endeavoured to satisfy, as far as she
was able, the longing cravings of my heart for any intelligence about
Min--how she was looking, if she saw her often, did she think of me, if
she was happy or miserable at my absence; but, how little could her
budgets compare with the letters I now got regularly, once a fortnight
at least, from Min herself--the fountain-head of all my desires!

She told me everything--where she went, what she did, even what she
thought--in simple, artless language that made me know her better, in
the thorough workings of her nature, than during those long months of
our intimacy