to her father. Yet he died, dear great man, and never printed a
line; while I--positively I blush to think of my temerity! Adieu,
my son; make the best of the time that remains with you at the
Philhellenic. A full mind is the true Pantheism, plena Jovis. It
is only in some corner of the brain which we leave empty that Vice
can obtain a lodging. When she knocks at your door, my son, be
able to say, "No room for your ladyship; pass on." Your
affectionate father,
A. CAXTON.

2.--FROM Mrs. CAXTON.

My Dearest Sisty,--You are coming home! My heart is so full of
that thought that it seems to me as if I could not write anything
else. Dear child, you are coming home; you have done with school,
you have done with strangers,--you are our own, all our own son
again! You are mine again, as you were in the cradle, the nursery,
and the garden, Sisty, when we used to throw daisies at each other!
You will laugh at me so when I tell you that as soon as I heard you
were coming home for good, I crept away from the room, and went to
my drawer where I keep, you know, all my treasures. There was your
little cap that I worked myself, and your poor little nankeen
jacket that you were so proud to throw off--oh! and many other
relies of you when you were little Sisty, and I was not the cold,
formal "Mother" you call me now, but dear "Mamma." I kissed them,
Sisty, and said, "My little child is coming back to me again!" So
foolish was I, I forgot all the long years that have passed, and
fancied I could carry you again in my arms, and that I should again
coax you to say "God bless papa." Well, well! I write now between
laughing and crying. You cannot be what you were, but you are