a chair, training the long branches and tacking them against the house, when a gentleman drove by with a camera in his wagon.  He stopped and took the picture and sent us one, explaining that every one admired it.  I happened to be wearing my yellow muslin, and I am sending you the one the gentleman colored, because it is the beautiful crimson of the rose against the yellow house that makes people admire it so.  If you come to America please don’t forget Beulah, because if you once saw mother you could never bear to disturb her, seeing how brave she is, living without father.  Admiral Southwick, who is in China, calls us Mother Carey’s chickens.  They are stormy petrels, and are supposed to go out over the seas and show good birds the way home.  We haven’t done anything splendid yet, but we mean to when the chance comes.  I haven’t told anybody that I am writing this, but I wanted you to know everything about us, as you are our landlord.  We could be so happy if Cousin Ann wouldn’t always say we are spending money on another person’s house and such a silly performance never came to any good.

I enclose you a little picture cut from the wall paper we want to put on the front hall, hoping you will like it.  The old paper is hanging in shreds and some of the plaster is loose, but Mr. Popham will make it all right.  Mother says she feels as if he had pasted laughter and good nature on all the walls as he papered them.  When you open the front door (and we hope you will, sometime, and walk right in!) how lovely it will be to look into yellow hayfields!  And isn’t the boatful of people coming to the haymaking, nice, with the bright shirts of the men and the women’s scarlet aprons?  Don’t you love the white horse in the haycart, and the jolly party picnicking under the tree?  Mother says just think of buying so much joy and color for twenty cents a double roll; and we children think we shall never get tired of sitting on the stairs in cold weather and making believe it is haying time.  Gilbert says we are putting another grand piano leg on the walls, but we are not, for we are doing all our own cooking and dishwashing and saving the money that a cook would cost, to do lovely things for the Yellow House.  Thank you, dearest Mr. Hamilton, for letting us live in it.  We are very proud of the circular steps and very proud of your being an American consul.

    Yours affectionately,

    NANCY CAREY.

P.S.  It is June, and Beulah is so beautiful you feel like eating it with sugar and cream!  We do hope that you and your children are living in as sweet a place, so that you will not miss this one so much.  We know you have five, older than we are, but if there are any the right size for me to send my love to, please do it.  Mother would wish to be remembered to Mrs. Hamilton, but she will never know I am writing to you.  It is my first business letter.

    N.C.

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