tired of this kind of thing. If _you_ had only translated Homer! then
I should have had a feast. When a school-girl, going each day with my
bag of books into Manchester, I used to like Don Quixote and Sir
Charles Grandison with my milk porridge. I must send you only this
short letter to-day. I can see your violet field from this window. How
sweetly the little limpid stream would _tinkle_ to-day; and how the
primroses are sitting listening to it and the little birds sipping it!
I have come to the conclusion that bees go more by _sight_ than by
scent. As I stand by my peacock with his gloriously gorgeous tail all
spread out, a bee comes _right at it_ (very vulgar, but expressive);
and I have an Alpine Primula on this window stone brightly in flower,
and a bee came and alighted, but went away again at once, not finding
the expected honey. I wonder what you do the livelong day, for I know
you and idleness are not acquaintances. I am so sorry your favorite
places are spoiled. But dear Brantwood will grow prettier and prettier
under your care.

* * * * *

_April 9th._

I have just been pleased by seeing a blackbird enjoying with
school-boy appetite, portions of a moistened crust of bread which I
threw out for him and his fellow-creatures. How he dug with his orange
bill!--even more orange than usual perhaps at this season of the year.
At length the robins have built a nest in the ivy in our yard--a very
secure and sheltered place, and a very convenient distance from the
crumb market. Like the old woman _he_ sings with a merry devotion, and
_she_ thinks there never was such music, as she sits upon her eggs; he
comes again and again, with every little dainty that his limited
income allows, and _she_ thinks it all the sweeter because _he_ brings
it to her. Now and then she leaves her nest to stretch her wings, and
to shake off the dust of care, and to prevent her pretty _ankles_
being cramped. But she knows her duty too well to remain absent long
from her precious eggs.

Now another little note from Dr. John, and he actually begins, "My
dear 'Susie,'"--and ends, "Let me hear from you soon. Ever yours
affectionately." Also he says, "It is very kind in you to let me get
at once close to you." The rest of his short letter (like you, he was
busy) is nearly all about _you_, so of course it is interesting to
_me_, and he hopes you are already getting good from