Jeffrey to a Grandchild.

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several when they got the height of his stick. The courtship was chiefly carried on by an exchange of valentines each year, and it did prove a little inconvenient when the young ladies had come so far to years of discretion as to be found taking private measurements of the stick, by which their fitness for matrimony was to be tested.'

The following are two characteristic specimens from the pens of very different men :

LORD JEFFREY TO A GRANDCHILD.

CRAIGCROOK, June 20th, 1848.

MY SONSY NANCY !—I love you very much, and think very often of your dimples, and your pimples, and your funny little plays, and all your pretty ways; and I send you my blessing, and wish I were kissing your sweet, rosy lips, or your fat finger tips; and that you were here, so that I could hear your stammering words from a mouthful of curds; and a great purple tongue (as broad as it's long); and see your round eyes, open wide with surprise, and your wondering look, to find yourself at Craigcrook! To-morrow is Maggie's birthday, and we have built up a great bonfire in honour of it; and Maggie Rutherfurd (do you remember her at all?) is coming out to dance round it; and all the servants are to drink her health, and wish her many happy days with you and Frankie; and all the mammys and pappys, whether grand or not grand. We are very glad to hear that she and you love each other so well, and are happy in making each other happy; and that you do not forget dear

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Thomas Hood

...

...

Tarley or Frankie when they are out of sight, nor Granny either, or even old Granny pa, who is in most danger of being forgotten, he thinks. All the dogs are very well; and Foxey is mine, and Froggy is Tarley's, and Frankie has taken up with great white Neddy. . . . The donkey sends his compliments to you, and maintains that you are a cousin of his ! or a near relation, at all events. Tarley sends her love, and I send mine to you all, though I shall think most of Maggie to-morrow morning, and of you when your birth-morning comes. And so bless you ever and ever, my dear dimply pussie. -Your very loving GRANDPA.1

...

THOMAS HOOD TO MARY ELLIOT.

17 ELM TREE ROAD, ST. JOHN'S WOOD, Monday, April 1844.

MY DEAR MAY,-I promised you a letter, and here it is. I was sure to remember it; for you are as hard to forget as you are soft to roll down a hill with. What fun it was only so prickly. I thought I had a porcupine in the one pocket and a hedgehog in the other. The

1 As a counterpart to the commencement of Jeffrey's bantering effusion, I may give the conclusion of a somewhat similar epistle from the celebrated musician, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, to his cousin :-'I must conclude, but don't think me rude. He who begins must cease, or the world would have no peace. My compliments to every friend, welcome to kiss me without end, for ever and a day, till good sense comes in my way; and a fine kissing that will be, which frightens you as well as me. Adieu, ma chère cousine; I am, I was, I have been-Oh! that I were, would to Heaven I were! I will or shall be, would, could, or should be-what? a blockhead.

W. A. M.'

to Mary Elliot.

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next time, before we kiss the earth, we will have its face well shaved. Did you ever go to Greenwich fair? I should like to go there with you, for I get no rolling at St. John's Wood. Tom and Fanny only like roll and butter, and as for Mrs. Hood she is rolling in money.

Tell Dunnie that Tom has set his trap in the balcony, and has caught a cold: and tell Jeanie that Fanny has set her foot in the garden, but it has not come up yet. Oh, how I wish it was the season when 'March winds and April showers bring forth May flowers!' for then of course you would give me another pretty little nosegay. Besides, it is frosty and foggy weather, which I do not like. The other night, when I came from Stratford, the cold shrivelled me up so, that when I got home I thought I was my own child.

However, I hope we shall all have a merry Christmas. I mean to come in my most ticklesome waistcoat, and to laugh till I grow fat, or at least streaky. Fanny is to be allowed a glass of wine; Tom's mouth is to have a hole holiday, and Mrs. Hood is to sit up to supper! There will be doings! And then such good things to eat; but, pray, pray, pray, mind they don't boil the baby by mistake for a plump pudding instead of a plum one.

Give my love to everybody, from yourself down to Willy, with which and a kiss, I remain, up hill and down dale, your affectionate lover, THOMAS HOOD.1

1 The above and three other letters were written to three of Dr. Elliot's children, special favourites of Hood's, and they all prove how admirably he could adapt his style to children. The allusion at the commencement of the letter is to an accidental tumble and roll at a pic-nic, ending in a furze bush at the bottom of the bank.

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Correspondence of

Letters of the Commonalty.

Hitherto my remarks have been almost exclusively confined to the correspondence of educated persons. The less elaborate, though not less hearty effusions of the humbler classes of society, must not be passed over in silence. Until a comparatively recent period, the practice of letter-writing was rarely indulged in by our poorer brethren; but the gradual extension of education, and the vast reduction in the rates of postage, as well as in the price of paper and other requisite materials, have already been productive of a large increase in their correspondence. The touching simplicity and warmth of affection so frequently displayed in the letters received from emigrants to distant lands, which occasionally find their way into the public prints, cannot fail to interest the most callous reader. Reference to the mutual health of the parties constitutes one of the most prominent features of the correspondence under consideration, and the style usually adopted forcibly reminds us of the classical præloquium already referred to. 'I write these few lines to say that I hop you are well, as this, thank God!

the humbler Classes.

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leaves us at preasant'-a very creditable translation of 'Si vales, gaudeo; ego valeo.' Perhaps the most objectionable characteristic of these unpretending epistles is the superfluous statement with which they almost invariably close: No more at present, but remains, etc.' It must be frankly acknowledged, however, that a stereotyped conclusion is by no means an unusual feature in letters of a more ambitious kind.

In her well-known work entitled English Hearts and English Hands, Miss Marsh introduces a number of characteristic letters which she received from some of the navvies' employed at the erection of the Crystal Palace (in whose welfare she had taken a warm and active interest), after they had joined the ranks of the British Army on the eve of the Crimean War. She explains, in her Preface, that in the first instance these letters were sent to press untouched; but on further consideration it was deemed due to the surviving writers to correct mis-spelt words, leaving all else intact.'

The following letter, addressed by a sailor to his brother, is a charming specimen of the 'rough and ready' style. The determined