particular account of the beauties of her mind also. Well, I trust
you will excuse me; for the mind and the body are so nearly
connected, that it is impossible to give a just idea of the graces
of one without in some degree touching upon the merits of the other.
I will now turn to Charles Dorning, as I think I have said enough
of Dora Leslie to induce you to regard her with friendliness.

Charles Dorning was a fine romping boy of eleven years; he had no
bright flaxen curls like our friend George, but straight dark hair,
which, however, was so glossy and neat that no person thought it
unbecoming. His eyes were the blackest I ever saw, and so sparkling
when animated with merriment, that it was impossible to resist their
influence, and maintain a serious deportment if he were inclined to
excite your risibility. Charles was a merry boy, but so innocent in
his mirth, that Mr. Wilton was always pleased to have him for his
son's companion, knowing by observation that his mirth was devoid of
mischief, and that he possessed a most inquiring mind, which urged
George on to the attainment of much solid knowledge that would be
greatly serviceable to him in after years.

I flatter myself you will, from this slight sketch, be able to form
some idea of the "new members," and regard them as old acquaintances,
as you already do Emma and George.

While they were drinking tea, there was an animated conversation,
which still continued when the meal was over, until the tray had
disappeared, and John had brushed the crumbs from the table; when
Mrs. Wilton said, "Suppose we adjourn into the next room, and
commence business"