“Harry and Fred are going to write to you, so I will leave them to speak for themselves. We are all well here, and last evening had the great pleasure of reading the letters you and Bessie wrote to the Colonel and Mrs. Rush, and which they kindly brought around to us.
“Write to me soon, and tell all your adventures to your affectionate uncle,
“Ruthven Stanton.”
Harry’s letter to Bessie came next, and ran thus:—
“Precious Pet Princess,—It seems to me as if it were two months instead of two weeks since you went away, and I can’t tell you how I want to see you. But it is all right, for I know you are having first-rate times, and dear mamma is getting ever so much good. We’re not having such a bad time either, though it’s not like having you all home. Uncle Ruthven is a first-rate fellow to stay with, I can tell you, and when we have finished our lessons, he always has some fun on hand for us. So we don’t have time to feel very lonely. But I am glad for your sakes that you and Mag were not left behind, for you would have felt worse about it than Fred and I do.
“Last Saturday we all went to Riverside, we boys on our ponies, of course, and had a famous day. Uncle John has a new boat, and he and Uncle Ruthven rowed us across the river,—they let Fred and me take an oar by turns, too,—and we went up the Palisades. Isn’t there a splendid view up there, though? You can see ever and ever so far. There were lots of Bob Whites about, and we heard them all round us, and we came upon two fellows with dogs and guns hunting them. I hope they didn’t have much luck, the old rascals!
“Haven’t we had a time this afternoon? I don’t know just how it happened, but I think Master Marygold must have opened the door of his cage himself,—for we have seen him pecking away at the catch several times lately; and Uncle Ruthven, only this morning, told Jane to twist a piece of wire round it when she cleaned the cage. But Jane forgot it, and so this afternoon Frankie came running in saying, ‘Marydold’s few away;’ and sure enough the cage was empty and no Marygold to be seen. But after awhile we heard a saucy ‘cheep,’ and there, on the top of grandpapa’s picture, sat my gentleman as independent as you please; and, before we had time to shut the window, out he flew into the yard. Weren’t we in a way though, thinking what you and Maggie would say to come home and find him lost. He hopped around for a while, flying off every time any one went near him, and at last flew clear away over the neighbors’ gardens, and we gave him up for lost.
“Grandmamma put his cage outside, hoping he would grow homesick and come back. And sure enough; for she was taking a nap in her bow-window about sunset, when she was waked by a ‘cheep, cheep,’ and there was Marygold hopping about on her work-table, and asking pardon for his naughtiness as plainly as any bird could. She brought his cage, and in he popped, glad enough to be at home. So he’s all safe once more, and his cage made secure, so he can’t try that dodge again.
“You know Colonel Rush has taken a house at Newport for the summer, and he wants us all to come there when we get through with our other wanderings. Won’t it be jolly? Then you know we are to spend October at dear, old Chalecoo; so you will have change enough for one six months. What travelled young ladies you and Maggie will be!
“I think I have written the most correct and proper letter in the world, and hope your dear little highness will not find any ‘unproper impressions,’ as you once said when Fred used some slang word; and that it will altogether suit your notions. Lots of love and kisses to all from