when I was a girl, father sent us to the very best master in the precinct.—­She then read it herself very attentively:  our minister was present, we listened to, and weighed every syllable:  we all unanimously concluded that you must have been in a sober earnest intention, as my wife calls it; and your request appeared to be candid and sincere.  Then again, on recollecting the difference between your sphere of life and mine, a new fit of astonishment seized us all!

Our minister took the letter from my wife, and read it to himself; he made us observe the two last phrases, and we weighed the contents to the best of our abilities.  The conclusion we all drew made me resolve at last to write.—­You say you want nothing of me but what lies within the reach of my experience and knowledge; this I understand very well; the difficulty is, how to collect, digest, and arrange what I know?  Next you assert, that writing letters is nothing more than talking on paper; which, I must confess, appeared to me quite a new thought.—­Well then, observed our minister, neighbour James, as you can talk well, I am sure you must write tolerably well also; imagine, then, that Mr. F. B. is still here, and simply write down what you would say to him.  Suppose the questions be will put to you in his future letters to be asked by his viva voce, as we used to call it at the college; then let your answers be conceived and expressed exactly in the same language as if he was present.  This is all that he requires from you, and I am sure the task is not difficult.  He is your friend:  who would be ashamed to write to such a person?  Although he is a man of learning and taste, yet I am sure he will read your letters with pleasure:  if they be not elegant, they will smell of the woods, and be a little wild; I know your turn, they will contain some matters which he never knew before.  Some people are so fond of novelty, that they will overlook many errors of language for the sake of information.  We are all apt to love and admire exotics, tho’ they may be often inferior to what we possess; and that is the reason I imagine why so many persons are continually going to visit Italy.—­That country is the daily resort of modern travellers.

James:  I should like to know what is there to be seen so goodly and profitable, that so many should wish to visit no other country?

Minister:  I do not very well know.  I fancy their object is to trace the vestiges of a once flourishing people now extinct.  There they amuse themselves in viewing the ruins of temples and other buildings which have very little affinity with those of the present age, and must therefore impart a knowledge which appears useless and trifling.  I have often wondered that no skilful botanists or learned men should come over here; methinks there would be much more real satisfaction in observing among us the humble rudiments and embryos of societies spreading everywhere, the recent foundation of our towns, and the settlements of so many rural districts.  I am sure that the rapidity of their growth would be more pleasing to behold, than the ruins of old towers, useless aqueducts, or impending battlements.