and as it has been for several days past, with flannel, calico, cotton, and nice warm stuffs. We have been laying in a supply of these useful articles in order to employ our winter evenings in making clothes for the poor. Isabel, who is both our adviser and director, has been assisting us in cutting out frocks, petticoats, and little bed-gowns, for us to make for poor children, whose parents cannot afford to buy them new clothes. We generally work every evening, while papa reads aloud; and I can assure you there is no little emulation amongst us to see who shall first finish a cap or a petticoat. It is not for the sake of the work that we like this employment so much, but for the sake of the pleasure it gives the poor people; we make quite a round in the village every Friday, leaving some little thing at one cottage and something at another.

Oh, my dear Caroline, how I wish you could make one of the happy party when we go our Friday rounds; I am sure you would think that exploring the winding staircases, ruined chapels, and dreary watch-towers, of old castles, is not half so delightful as visiting the poor in their little cottages, and endeavouring to render assistance to those who stand in need of it.

I believe this will be but a very short letter, my dear girl, but Louisa is packing up a little box of shells for you, and I did not like to miss the opportunity of writing a few lines to send by it.

We were much pleased with the flowers that came in the cake-tin, which answered its purpose very nicely. I can assure you we shall be equally glad with yourself to hail the return of spring; I long to see the banks by the road sides enamelled with the gay little butter-cups,

primroses, and violets. Notwithstanding the pleasures of our long winter evenings, I must own I felt rather melancholy yesterday, when, while walking in the garden, I observed a number of swallows holding their grave debate, upon the roof of one of the cottages in the lane, and apparently about to take their departure for warmer regions. Was not this a sign that winter is just at hand?

I hope we shall see each other again in the spring, when the swallows return, or, at all events, that some future leaf in the chapter of accidents will have our meeting recorded in it, however faint the present probability of such a circumstance. Let us, at least, hold out to each other the delightful hope, and continue to lessen the pain of absence by a constant interchange of letters: though we are distantly separated, this will enable us to

contribute towards each other's pleasures, to participate in each other's pursuits, and to assist in promoting each other's improvement.

For the present, adieu! my beloved Caroline.

Your affectionate friend.

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Printed by G. SMALLFIELD, Hackney.