at home! General Carter, who spent the evening with us day before
yesterday, remarked that the first thing he heard as he reached town
was that all the gentlemen and ladies of Clinton were hunting for
country lodgings for us. It was pretty much the case. The General was
as kind as ever, bless his gray head! and made us promise to go back to
Linwood with him when he passes back next week. This is the way we keep
the promise--coming out here.

Early yesterday morning we received a note from Eliza Haynes, one of
our indefatigable agents, saying her grandmother, Mrs. McCay, had
consented to receive us, and would come for us in the evening.
Immediately my packing task was begun. But imagine my disappointment,
just as I had finished one trunk, to hear mother announce her
determination to let us go alone, while she remained with Lilly!
Prayers, entreaties, tears, arguments, all failed; and we were forced
to submit. So with a heart fuller than I can express, I repacked the
trunk with Miriam's and my clothing, and got ready to depart. In the
evening the carriage drove up to the door with Eliza and her
grandmother, and with a hasty and rather choky good-bye to Lilly and
mother, we were hurried in, and in another moment were off.

I fancied the house would be north of Clinton, so of course the horses
took the road south. Then I decided on a white cottage to the left of
the road, and about two miles out, found that it was to the right, not
painted, and no cottage at all, but a nondescript building, besides.
"'Twas ever thus from childhood's hour!" When did I ever fancy anything
exactly as it was? But the appearance does not affect the house, which
is really very comfortable, though apparently unfinished. The same
objection might be made to it that I made to Mrs. Moore's, for there is
not a shutter on the place. But fine shade trees take their place, and
here I do not feel the want of them so much, as our room is in the back
of the house, to the west, where the rising sun cannot salute my nose
as it did at Mrs. Moore's. As to what effect the setting sun has, I
must wait for the evening to decide, though I always enjoy that. At
Greenwell, we used to walk a mile away from home to see the sun set in
an open field.

I find Mrs. McCay an excellent, plain old lady, with neither airs nor
pretentions, and very kind-hearted. Here she lives alone, with the
exception of an orphan girl called Jane, whose position, half-menial,
half-equal, it