A. W. ST. IVES


P.S. I am sorry to see poor Frank Henley look so dejected. He has many
good, nay I am well persuaded many great, qualities. Perhaps he is
disappointed at not being allowed to go with us; for which I know he
petitioned his father, but was refused; otherwise I could easily have
prevailed on Sir Arthur to have consented.

I am determined to take King Pepin[1] with me. It is surely the most
intelligent of all animals; the unfeathered bipeds, as the French wits
call us two-legged mortals, excepted. But no wonder it was my Louisa's
gift; and, kissing her lips, imbibed a part of her spirit. Were I to
leave it behind me, cats, and other good for nothing creatures, would
teach it again to be shy, and suspicious; and the present charming
exertion of its little faculties would decay. The development of mind,
even in a bird, has something in it highly delightful.

[Footnote 1: A goldfinch which the young lady had so named.]

Why, my Louisa, my friend, my sister, ah, why are not you with me? Why
do you not participate my pleasures, catch with me the rising ideas,
and enjoy the raptures of novelty? But I will forbear. I have before in
vain exhausted all my rhetoric. You must not, will not quit a
languishing parent; and I am obliged to approve your determination,
though I cannot but regret the consequence.