I believe I told you in my last letter, that Arthur has been very delicate for some months past, and apprehensions have been entertained that if the change of air to a softer climate than that of Buckinghamshire were not resorted to, his lungs might soon become affected. Poor fellow! He is an only son; and as my aunt could not make up her mind to going abroad with him herself, and she would not consent to let him go to the Continent without her, though in the company of his friend Mr. Falkland, matters have been compromised by accepting mamma's invitation to the Island of mists; and truly it would delight us all to cherish this young cousin at Glenalta, if it were not for the painful feeling that he considers it a heavy penance to come amongst his Irish relations. The performance of duty is, however, so agreeable in itself, that if we find our cares successful, and are enabled to return the invalid in good health to his mother and sisters, we shall be amply recompensed. It is but to think of the grateful love which would warm our own hearts (were Frederick similarly circumstanced) towards any friend who might be instrumental in his recovery, to enter con amore into the feelings of Arthur's family, and sing a Te Deum if we are permitted to excite them. Sickness, in producing a powerful sense of our mortality, often awakens the heart to the realities of happiness, by shewing us the utter futility of pleasures on which we had thoughtlessly relied, till evil days came upon us, and our helpless dependence was brought experimentally home to our conviction.

I sometimes flatter myself with a hope that mamma's enchanting influence, Frederick's sweet disposition, and the cheerful aid of the three handmaids, may operate a change in Arthur's mind, and reclaim a fine understanding from the blighting effects of cold and selfish fashion. You see that I am castle-building—may it not be in the air!

I am desired by mamma, to say that your dear aunt shall soon hear from her; and you shall have a letter ere long to tell you what progress we make in acquaintance with our guest, who is a perfect stranger amongst the juniors of our house, and only remembered as a little boy by my mother.

So much have I had to say of our hospital concerns, that I have not told you a word of a surprise which Frederick and I are preparing for this precious Author of our being.—There is a little solitary spot not far removed from this, the most sequestered, wild, and lovely glen that Nature I believe ever formed. For years after we came to Glenalta, my sisters and I never saw or heard of it, mamma never having mentioned its existence; and its distance placing it without the bounds of our allotted walks while we were children. Frederick was the first who made me acquainted with this tiny Paradise of beauty and seclusion, the story of which I must reserve for my next letter.

Our fond and united loves attend your circle from all here, and particularly your

Faithful and affectionate Friend,
Emily Douglas.

LETTER III.
Arthur Howard to Charles Falkland.

My Dear Falkland,

Glenalta.