those days, which I often picture to myself as the good time coming, to which some of us are looking forward.  When I hear of an opening in England, I shall return—­perhaps sooner, if it is very long in coming; unless, indeed, you would like to join me out here.  What do you think of that proposal?  We could settle down comfortably in Peru or Mexico, and you could make friends among the Spanish ladies, and learn from them to sleep all day and dance all night, unless you would prefer to accompany my pipe with your cigarette; for, of course, you too would smoke, like every one else.  And from time to time we could go on long expeditions—­such as I am making now—­day and night in an open boat, on some river flowing through trackless forests, great trees dipping down into the water, strange flowers blooming overhead, strange beasts that one never saw before, hopping and rushing about; and mosquitoes, of which one has seen plenty, eating one up alive at every opportunity.  My poor Molly!  I can see your face of dismay.  No, don’t be afraid; you shall not be asked to leave your own comfortable home till I can return and take you to as good a one; and then I mean to write a book about my adventures, and you shall do nothing worse than shudder over them at your leisure at our own fireside.”

To which Maria replied:—­“I think, my dear Horace, you are quite right not to hurry home.  As you say, we are both young, and have life before us; and do not trouble yourself about me, for as long as I hear that you are well and happy, I can and ought to desire nothing further.  The idea of coming out to you made me shiver indeed; you will say I am very unenterprising, but I don’t think I should ever care about leaving England; one is so happy here, what more can one desire?  What can I tell you in return for your long letter?  Georgie will have given you all the village news, no doubt; has she told you that we have a new curate—­Mr. Morris?  He preached last Sunday, and is a great improvement on Mr. Saunders, who was the dullest man I ever heard.  The school gets on nicely; I have two more pupils, and receive many compliments, I assure you, on the way in which I manage my class.  I sometimes wonder if it could not be arranged some day, that you should enter into partnership with Dr. Vavasour, who is growing old, and gets tired with his day’s work?  I often think of this, and of how pleasant it would be, but, as you may suppose, have never even hinted at it to your sister.  Is it such a very wild castle in the air?  It is a very pleasant one, and I sometimes sit and think it all over.  We should never have to leave Ashurst then; there is a pretty little house lately built at the end of the village, which would just suit us, I think; you could write your book, and when it was done, read it to me, as you know I do not much care about reading.  You should smoke your pipe as much as you please, and I would sit and work, for there is nothing I like doing better, and I should find it very uncomfortable to sit with my hands before me.  Do you think I mean to grow idle in my old age?  No, not if we have a hundred thousand a-year, for I am sure there must be always something for every one to do,” and so on; a little moral sentiment closed the letter.