Ithank you, my dear friend, for the accounts you have given me of our little Constantia. I am sorry she is slatternly; it is a fault too little attended to. Yet it occasions a great loss of time, and is frequently the cause of more expence than prodigality itself. I have corrected Adelaide of this fault, natural to all children, by punishments, provided the thing lost was absolutely to be replaced; or if it was a thing of entertainment rather than of use; a play thing for instance, by making her long wish for such another, before I gave it her; and at last by giving her a large chest of drawers, in which she might lock up and set all her things to rights. But read Mons. de Fenelon sur l'Education des Filles, and there you will find all the advice necessary on this subject.

I shewed my children a melancholy sight this morning; and I will presently give you my reasons for so doing. My gardener's daughter died last night; she was pretty, and only twenty years old. I was told of it, when I was getting up, by Mademoiselle Victoire, who added, that she was just come from sprinkling her with holy water, that she had seen her face, and that it was not in the least disfigured. This particularity being confirmed by many people, I resolved on shewing her to my children. When we were all met for breakfast, the gardener's daughter was talked on, and Miss Bridget said she had never seen a corpse; Theodore and Adelaide repeated the same; – I proposed our going to the gardener's as soon as breakfast was over; we went; on entering the chamber, I observed Adelaide's countenance change; we all knelt down; and our prayers ended, I approached the bed, lifted up the cloth, entirely uncovered the face of the deceased, which I could not look on without feeling an inexpressible anxiety of mind; from the thought, that she was an only daughter, and that her parents survived her.