of Rodwell. They are an excellent collection, and we are pretending to say that we will keep some of the best unread, for our camp life; but, in fact, I am going rapidly through them all, and with such a well-grounded confidence in the deteriorated state of my memory that I am sure they will be all new books again in five months. I thought I would keep back Mrs. Hemans, but it is such a pretty-looking book that I am going to succumb to it to-day.
I heard a shocking story at dinner yesterday. The Archdeacon was sent for two days ago, to see a boy, the son of a friend, who was dying; and yesterday they sent to tell him that the boy had died at three in the morning, and asked him to perform the funeral, which is always here within twenty-four hours of the death. He went yesterday evening for that purpose. The boy was in his coffin, but, just as they were setting off, it was discovered that he was still alive. I have not heard how he is to-day, but I suspect those mistakes must sometimes occur in this country, from the hurry in which funerals are necessarily performed. I do not mean to allow myself to faint away on any account, for fear of accidents.
