“Do you remember Mrs. Plumer, the large, handsome woman from New Orleans, whom you saw when we dined at your Uncle Magot’s last summer?  She has come on, and will be at the Spring this year.  I am told Mr. Plumer is a very large planter—­the largest, some people say, in the country.  Their oldest daughter, Grace is as school in town.  She is only fourteen, I believe.  What an heiress she will be!  The Moultries, from South Carolina, will be there too, I suppose.  By-the-by, now old is Sligo Moultrie?  Then there are some of those rich Havana people coming.  What diamonds they wear!  It will be very pleasant at the Springs; and I hope the little visit will do Fanny good.  Dr. Maundy is giving us a series of sermons upon the different kinds of wood used in building Solomon’s Temple.  They are very interesting; and he has such a flow of beautiful words and such wavy gestures, and he looks so gentlemanly in the pulpit, that I have no doubt he does a great deal of good.  The church is always full.  Your Uncle Lawrence has been to hear a preacher from Boston, by the name of Channing, and is very much pleased.  Have you ever heard him?  It seems he is very famous in his own sect, who are infidels, or deists, or pollywogs, or atheists—­I don’t know which it is.  I believe they preach mere morality, and read essays instead of sermons.  I hope you go regularly to church; and from what I have heard of Dr. Peewee, I respect him very highly.  Perhaps you had better make abstracts of his sermons, and I can look over them some time when you come home.

“Speaking of religion, I must tell you a little story which Fanny told me the other day.  She was coming home from church with Mr. Dinks, and he said to her, ’Miss Newt, what do you do when you go into church and put your head down?’ Fanny did not understand him, and asked him what he meant.  ‘Why,’ said he, ’when we go into church, you know, we all put our heads down in front of the pew, or in our hands, for a little while, and Dr. Maundy spreads his handkerchief on the desk and puts his face into it for quite a long time.  What do you do?’ he asked, in a really perplexed way, Fanny says.  ‘Why,’ said she, gravely, ’Mr. Dinks, it is to say a short prayer.’  ‘Bless my soul!’ said he; ‘I never thought of that.’  ‘Why, what do you do, then?’ asked Fanny, curiously.  ‘Well,’ answered Dinks, ’you know I think it’s a capital thing to do; it’s proper, and so forth; but I never knew what people were really at when they did it; so I always put my head into my hat and count ten.  I find it comes to about the same thing—­I get through at the same time with other people.’  He isn’t very bright, but he is a good-hearted fellow, and very gentlemanly, and I am told he is very rich.  Fanny laughs at him; but I think she likes him very well.  I wish you would find out whether Miss Wayne really is engaged to him.  Here I am at the very end of my paper.  Take care of yourself, my dear Abel, and remember the religion and the solid reading.