and perhaps a little sad—in which an old friend is the very person one naturally turns to. And what old friends. you and I are, darling! Do you, I wonder, remember how at Penhelig we two (surely remarkably intelligent girls of twelve!) used to discuss theological subjects in the dear shrubbery? I from the decidedly Calvinistic point of view which darling Mrs. Scott found rather objectionable, and which you by no means shared! And then the talks of our youth -the pleasures, the sorrows, the aspirations! And all that so long ago! How long has just been brought to my mind by a morning call from Mr. He looked with great interest at my photographs of sweet Louise and you, and felt how gracefully and how generously time had dealt with both. Naturally he did not tell me how lamentable the impression my appearance made, but he looked it. He and I never had much to say to each other, and should probably feel more kindly now through the virtue of old memories, common memories, than we ever did before. But his presence and talk generally has had a wonderful effect in making me realize how long I have sat at Life's feast, and how soon I must rise and make room for others at the richly spread table. To me the best things have come late—they are still so freshly enjoyed I do not like to think my time must be short. We all, I fancy, take our own notions of ourselves from what others form. When I live with William, while I am alone with him, years have done me no wrong. I am what he sees me to be- - I look at myself. through the flattering medium of those kind eyes, partial as my mother's I am bright by reflection I am on easy, affectionate terms with myself! Oh, "how am I translated" by this interview with Mr. ! ! How elderly, how ugly, how uninteresting! You will think me crazy, perhaps, but I've a notion too that what one human being really feels can hardly be quite unintelligible to any other. Your old and admiring friend Mr. looks well, and has a pleasant manner, and though I don't say the effect on me of the effect I made upon him was exhilarating, still I am glad to have seen him. I do hope we may go to London for a fortnight, or three weeks. Would we could spend some hours together, say at the Zoological Garden - my idea of enjoyment! and thoroughly wake up the dear old friendship which will never die, I am quite sure, but which must needs grow comparatively lethargic and silent for want of the viva voce, the laugh and sigh shared, the agreement or the argument as the case might be. Sweet Mary! Do girls nowadays admire each other as I admired you? Are there such darlings to be seen? You combined, and combine, so very much. I am longing to know where you will go first when you leave the happy home of five years. There will be so many friends claiming you, you will be torn to pieces, and indeed I shall not be surprised to hear that you run away from them all and go and tour in Switzerland. And here are we beginning to think that we should like to pitch a more permanent tent than we have done hitherto not that any years can ever be happier than these last six have been. . . . I have been laid the up ... last two or three days with cold, sick headache, etc., and I think that's why I think in the minor key, so to speak. Generally my spirits are I would say absurdly high, but that William likes them, and would not, I think, even if he could, barter this "antic and exultant spirit" for stronger intellect or wider cultivation. You know that we had M with us again for a month. She She is a darling, and I was more than ever struck with her very remarkable intellectual quickness. She seems to me to have an aptitude for almost everything. I am going to put in instead of any more letter some very simple lines something like a little poem of Grün's I read and took a great fancy to six years ago but how like I really do not know. - THE WEDDING RING. I climbed the hill, and looked around So fair, so far, so boundless all ! My spirit was oppressed; My glance roamed round, now here, now there, Now I've written them out they don't seem worth it, but there's a truth in them. My darling Mary, keep a little corner in your dear heart for your and General Cotton's truly affectionate and appreciating L. C. S. CHAPTER XXIV. PEN PORTRAITS. (From the Memoir.) FOR the summer of 1867 we fixed ourselves at Barmouth, in North Wales a place to which my husband had never before been, though he had chosen it for the scene of one of the episodes in "Thorndale.” We had a snug little cottage to ourselves, perched just above the estuary, on the other side of which rose the range of Cader Idris. The place suited my husband's health, and as usual we were fortunate in a landlady whose kindliness and care for us gave us a sense of comfort and security very precious to both. We should have been, I believe, unduly pained by an opposite experience, but during our married life we never encountered it. My husband's urvarying consideration for the claims and the feelings of all brought into contact with him, as well as his self-helpfulness and punctuality, made him the most popular of lodgers. Looking over my diaries, whatever year I take up seems to have been the happiest! William was much occupied, I remember, this particular summer, with scientific subjects. One of the papers that he wrote for the magazine was a review of a work of Émile Saigey's, treating of the "Unity of Natural Phenomena." I think the closing paragraph will interest some who read these pages: What if the movements of suns and planets, about which so many theories have been devised, should at last be studied in the movements of the molecule? The movements of suns and systems may be but results or examples of those two movements of rotation and translation with which we found it necessary to endow every atom from the commencement. Need we add that we have still to ask how atoms came to be endowed with these movements, and were brought into all these rhythms or harmonies? Need we add that our last and boldest generalizations only make the necessity more glaring to supplement the atom and its movement with the great idea of Intelligential Power? God, and the atom, and the soul of man, Something we seem to know of all the three Something and only - always—of the three. What memories We were seven months at Barmouth. arise of grave and tender talk during sunset strolls along the quiet sands, while the distant Carnarvonshire mountains stood out lilac against a "daffodil sky;" of glad morning rambles, after morning work, over hills gorgeous with furze and heather; or rapid pacing up and down the bridge, watching the flowing or the ebbing rush of the tide! We had a good many brief visits from different friends during the summer, but we were much alone too. The winter found us in Edinburgh. During our stay there one of our peculiar interests lay in attending together, every Sunday morning, a rather singular service held by a Mr. Cranbrook in the Hopetoun Rooms. Mr. Cranbrook had been originally, I believe, an Independent minister, but at the time I speak of he had seceded from that body. We never knew his history with exactness, but heard of him as an earnest thinker, following at any cost what he deemed truth. He was then evidently in ill health, and had the wistful look of one "led by the Spirit" into a desert. His congregation was small, but loving hands always placed flowers on each side of the desk before him. His sermons were generally. critical, but in his prayers the emotional nature of the man came out. We found the contrast between the cold |