AN INTERCEPTED LETTER 



BY AN angler's WIFE. 



Sutlicrla ndsh ire, A iigust, i S 7 9. 



Y dearest Mary ! * * '■■' Well, you see 

 we have come to the end of our three days' 

 journey into the wilderness, and reached this 

 out-of-the-world spot at last. Talk about a place having 

 been made on a Saturday night ! this forlorn corner of 

 the earth looks as if it had been manufactured on a 

 washing-day, and as if there still clung around it the 

 original damps and vapours from which it obtained its 

 being. 



I expect you will be dying to know all that I have 

 done, said, and suffered since I left civilization behind me. 

 My dear ! description is summed up, and the conclusion 

 of the whole matter arrived at in one solemn word — 

 Nothing ! Angels' visits, and the currants in Sunday- 

 school tea-party cake are of frequent occurrence, and very 

 numerous compared with the items of interest in this 

 Ultima Thnle. 



However, if I were to give you a full, true, and 

 particular account of one day's doings, it would serve as 

 a very good sample of what existence has been to your 

 unhappy friend for the last fortnight — because to-morrow 



