“Oct. 19th.  I did not finish my letter the day it as begun, dear Katy, and the next morning it proved that I was not so strong as I fancied, and I had to go to bed again.  I am still there, and, as you see, writing with a pencil; but do not be worried about me, for the doctor says I am mending, and soon I hope to be up and in my chair.  The red leaves are gone, but the roses are lovely as ever, for little Helen keeps bringing me fresh ones.  She has just been in to read me her composition.  The subject was ‘Stars,’ and you can’t think how much she found to say about them, She is a bright little creature, and it is a great pleasure to teach her.  I am hardly ever so sick that she cannot come for her lessons, and she gets on fast.  We have made an arrangement that when she knows more than I do she is to give me lessons, and I am not sure that the time is so very far off.

“I must tell you about my Ben.  He is a new canary which was given me in the summer, and lately he has grown so delightfully tame that I feel as if it were not a bird at all, but a fairy prince come to live with me and amuse me.  The cage door is left open always now, and he flies in and out as he likes.  He is a restless, inquisitive fellow, and visits any part of the room, trying each fresh thing with his bill to see if it is good to eat, and then perching on it to see if it good to sit upon.  He mistakes his own reflection in the looking-glass for another canary, and sits on the pin-cushion twittering and making love to himself for half an hour at a time.  To watch him is one of my greatest amusements, especially just now when I am in bed so much.  Sometimes he hides and keeps so still that I have not the least idea where he is. but the moment I call, ‘Ben, Ben,’ and hold out my finger, wings begin to rustle, and out he flies and perches on my finger.  He isn’t the least bit in the world afraid, but sits on my head or shoulder, eats out of my mouth, and kisses me with his beak.  He is on the pillow at this moment making runs at my pencil, of which he is mortally jealous.  It is just so with my combs and brushes if I attempt to do my hair; he cannot bear to have me do any thing but play with him.  I do wish I could show him to you and Clover.

“Little Helen, my other pet, has just come in with a sponge cake which she frosted herself.  She sends her love, and says when you come to me next summer she will frost you each one just like it.  Good-by, my Katy.  I had nothing to write about and have written it, but I never like to keep silent too long, or let you feel as if you were forgotten by your loving cousin,
            Helen.”

“P.S.  Be sure to wear plenty of warm wraps for your winter walks.  And, Katy, dear, you must eat meat every day.  Mrs. Nipson will probably give up her favorite pudding now that the cold weather has begun; but, if not, write to papa.”

“Isn’t that letter Cousin Helen all over?” said Katy, “So little about her illness, and so bright and merry, and yet she has really been sick.  Papa says ‘a sharp attack.’  Isn’t she the dearest person in the world, next to papa I mean?”