next door to my Julia. Oh! how charming that would
be. Each of us to have one of those delightful new
houses, with the new-fashioned basement stories;
we would run in and out at all hours of the day, and
it would be so convenient to lend and borrow each
other's things. I do think there is no pleasure under
heaven equal to that of wearing things that belong
to your friend. Don't you remember how fond I was
of wearing your clothes at school, though you were
not so fond of changing as myself; but that was no
wonder, for pa's stinginess kept me so shabbily
dressed, that I was ashamed to let you be seen in
them. Oh, Julia! I shall never forget those happy
hours; nor you neither. Apropos--I hope you have
not forgot the frock you promised to work for me, to
remember you by. I long for it dreadfully, and hope
you will send it before the river shuts. I suppose
you and Charles Weston do nothing but ride round
among those beautiful villas on the island, and
take comfort. I do envy you your happiness, I can
tell you; for I think any beau better than none,
though Mr. Weston is not to my taste. I am going
to write you six sheets of paper, for there is
nothing that I so delight in as communing with a
friend at a distance, especially situated as I am
without a soul to say a word to, unless it be my
own sisters. Adieu, my ever, ever beloved Julia--be
to me as I am to you, a friend indeed, one tried
and not found wanting. In haste, your