It was pretty to see from the letters, which were evidently
exchanged with some frequency between the young mother and the
grandmother, how the girlish vanity was being weeded out of her
heart by love for her baby. The white "Paduasoy" figured again in
the letters, with almost as much vigour as before. In one, it was
being made into a christening cloak for the baby. It decked it
when it went with its parents to spend a day or two at Arley Hall.
It added to its charms, when it was "the prettiest little baby that
ever was seen. Dear mother, I wish you could see her! Without any
pershality, I do think she will grow up a regular bewty!" I
thought of Miss Jenkyns, grey, withered, and wrinkled, and I
wondered if her mother had known her in the courts of heaven: and
then I knew that she had, and that they stood there in angelic
guise.

There was a great gap before any of the rector's letters appeared.
And then his wife had changed her mode of her endorsement. It was
no longer from, "My dearest John;" it was from "My Honoured
Husband." The letters were written on occasion of the publication
of the same sermon which was represented in the picture. The
preaching before "My Lord Judge," and the "publishing by request,"
was evidently the culminating point--the event of his life. It had
been necessary for him to go up to London to superintend it through
the press. Many friends had to be called upon and consulted before
he could decide on any printer fit for so onerous a task; and at
length it was arranged that J. and J. Rivingtons were to have the
honourable responsibility. The worthy rector seemed to be strung
up by the occasion to a high literary pitch, for he could hardly
write a letter to his wife without cropping out into Latin. I