Let me think: how shall I tell you about it? I will begin at the beginning—

Three months ago, as I was sitting in our summer-house, warbling one of my newest songs, our page Tom—Tom-tit we call him, he is such a funny little fellow—brought me a letter that had just been left by the postboy.

I have it by heart.

"My dear little Songbird,"—this is a name they gave to me from my infancy, for they say I could sing before I could speak,—"My dear little Songbird," thus the letter began, "All the world is coming to London this spring to see the most wonderful of sights; try and persuade my dear sister, that kind Mamma of yours, to let you pay your long-promised visit to me. You must come in May, and you may stay with me as long as you can bear to be away from your delightful home. Let me know when I may expect you.

And I remember that the envelope was addressed, "Lady Linnet, Gorse Bush, Somersetshire;" and that in the left-hand corner there was written, "For Miss Linnet."

Did not I fly to my "kind Mamma" as soon as I had read this note, and when she had consented that I should go to see that dear old Aunt of mine in London, did not I half smother her with kisses. I thought the first of May would never come,—but it did; and Tom-tit was sent to London with me by the railway to take care of me.

My good Aunt received me with the greatest kindness, and her son Drinkwater, one of the handsomest young fellows I ever saw in my life, began whispering compliments to me as soon as ever we were left together. I had a lovely little boudoir entirely for my own use, and my page Tom-tit had nothing else to do but wait on me. My cousin Drinkwater and I were soon great friends; he took me to the Opera, where I listened to singing such as I had never heard at Gorse Bush; he took me to the Chiswick FÊte, where I saw flowers such as I had never dreamed of; and he took me—how many times? well, I can't recollect—to that dear, delightful Crystal Palace, where we visited more foreign countries than I knew of in my Geography, and where we often found ourselves quite alone, looking at those charming seeds from the West India Islands; and where we enjoyed some of the most delightful days of all our lives,—at least, Drinkwater said so; and I think I must say so too.

Every one has been to the Crystal Palace, so it is of no use talking about the Koh-i-noor, or the fierce-looking Amazon, or the beautiful Veiled Vestal, or the Greek Slave, or those terrible-looking owls or funny foxes, or the other Comical Creatures that came from Wurtemberg. I will, therefore, tell you how we amused ourselves when we were not inclined to have our brains bewildered.

First, let me inform you that my cousin, who was born in London, knows all the grand people by sight, and bows to a great many of them. You may imagine what a treat it was to me, who had lived in a country village all my life, to see with my own eyes His Royal Highness the Prince, or His Grace the Duke, or Her Grace the Duchess, or His Excellency the Marquis, or the Most Noble the Marchioness, pass by in their grand carriages. How I used to stand on tip-toe to get a glimpse of their faces over the people's heads, and how Drinkwater used to laugh at me.

One morning we were walking in Hyde Park, amusing ourselves in the usual way, when Drinkwater whispered to me hurriedly, "Here come a great Lion and Lioness." You may imagine my sensations. Bewildered with terror, I was about to leave him, and fly; but when I turned with trembling limbs and looked in the direction he pointed out, I saw that these fearful creatures appeared quite harmless: in fact, the great Lion, though he looked very magnificent, was quietly smoking a cigar; and except that the Lioness stared very fiercely, and wore spurs, and carried a riding-whip, I really don't think I should have known that she was a Lioness. A little Tiger, leading the Lioness's horse, followed them at a short distance.

I noticed that every one made way for these important members of society, who, indeed, seemed to think the earth hardly good enough for them to walk upon; but when they had passed by, I heard the people say, "That's the great Mr. Grandboy. He is one of our celebrated Lions. He is a perfect literary Beau Brummel; the author of several novels, that have been read prodigiously; he composes operas, sets the fashion of the cravat, and, they say, writes leaders for 'The Times.'"

"And who, pray, is the Lioness?"

"That is the Hon. Mrs. Delmacare. She writes novels, too, follows the hounds, and often whips her Tiger."

Such were the remarks of the crowd.

Drinkwater told me that some of these Lions and Lionesses do most extraordinary things, and that people run after them and invite them to the most costly entertainments, where they are expected to amuse the guests by their roars. I am glad I am not a Lioness.

When I had somewhat recovered from the agitation caused by this rencontre, Drinkwater persuaded me to take a walk to St. James's Park, to see those charming ducks, and the black swans, and the queer little creatures that dive so prettily. We passed under the arch with the great horse on the top. I asked my cousin if he knew what country such horses were found in, but he could not tell me, and we walked on and soon came to the Queen's Palace.

Here let me take breath;—just at the very moment we reached the gateway, out rolled the royal carriage, and in it, to our great happiness, we beheld her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen, and His Royal Highness the Prince Albert; and with them were those dear children, the Princess Royal and the Prince of Wales—Heaven bless them! How I did long to kiss them both. When the last wheel of the royal carriage was quite out of sight, we turned to look at the palace that the Queen lived in, and Drinkwater pointed out to me the funniest creature that ever I saw standing on a pedestal by the gate. He said it was a Unicorn, and that it was put there on purpose to make the Queen laugh. After we had counted the thousand and one windows in the front of the Palace, we strolled along the pleasant path by the little lake, and watched the children as they came with cakes in their hands to feed those greedy geese, that seemed as if they would gobble up cakes, and children, and all.

While we were resting ourselves on a seat under the trees, some distant relations of ours, the Sparrowes of Evryware, passed by. It was well they did not see us, for some of them know me, and I must confess that I should not like to have been seen speaking to such shabby, ill-looking fellows. I wonder what their relations in the country would have said, had they seen them in such wretched condition. Their coats were torn, one of them had lost part of his tail, and their faces looked as if they had not been washed since the last shower of rain. Fearing lest the Sparrowes should return and discover us, I asked Drinkwater to take the ferry-boat to the other side; and just as we landed we had the pleasure of seeing the great Lord Bison introduce his sister, Lady Dorothy Zebu, to the renowned Admiral Macaw. You should have seen the polite bow of the admiral, and the delightful curtsey of the lady. I was charmed beyond expression. Lord Bison has a fine military air; they say he fought many battles on the American prairies. Lady Dorothy, who has just come from India, has, on the contrary, a mild, benignant countenance, and, I am told, is very religious. The admiral was covered with gold, and purple, and scarlet, and looked for all the world like one of his namesakes in that beautiful place, the Zoological Gardens.

This was one of my most eventful days in London, and I shall long remember it.

But now I must tell you of that evening—shall I confess it? the happiest evening of my life—when Drinkwater and I went to Lady Chaffinch's ball. My Aunt was too indisposed to accompany us; she therefore called her son, and told him to take great care of me, as much as if I were his own sister. I have an idea that if my dear Aunt knew all, she would have said that he rather exceeded his instructions; but never mind, he took great care of me.

The carriage came for us at ten o'clock, when, had I been at Gorse Bush, I should have been fast asleep on my perch,—as Drinkwater says, for he loves to plague me about being a Linnet. My Cousin was beautifully attired; he wore a most superb cravat, of a deep ruby colour, and an under-waistcoat of the brightest amber; but, in fact, he always attracts admiration; and I think, without vanity, that I looked extremely well in the new brown dress I took with me from home. At a quarter past ten we entered Lady Chaffinch's ball-room, and, for a moment, I was perfectly bewildered; indeed, Drinkwater had to apologise to our hostess for my strange behaviour by saying I was not quite well. However, her ladyship, whom I had often seen in the country, was very kind to me, led me to a seat, and began asking after her old friends. This soon brought me to my senses; and after a little while I could bear to look at the dazzling chandeliers, the magnificent pier-glasses, and the splendidly-dressed people, without being giddy at the sight. Soon after our arrival, the band commenced playing, and some of the company arranged themselves for a dance. Old Sir Cayman Alligator, an East-Indian Director, led out the graceful Lady Caroline Giraffe, who, I must say, deserved the praise young Nightingale bestowed upon her, when he said, she was one of "Nature's nobility." I could not but admire her large, full eyes, which looked at you so tenderly, and the gentle bending of her beautiful neck; and then, what a contrast she was to her horrid-looking partner! I suppose he must be very rich, or I cannot think why Lady Chaffinch should have invited him. Opposite to them stood young Lord Crowe, a younger brother of the noble Earl of Ravenskind, and with him was the Honourable Miss Pigeon. Lord Crowe is a good-looking fellow, rather dark, it must be confessed; but as he wears glasses, he looks very interesting. They say that his brother, the Earl, has picked up his great wealth in a most unaccountable manner, and that the whole family have a singular want of discrimination in the meaning of the words meum and tuum. His partner, who had a nice, dove-coloured dress on, appeared very desirous of pleasing the young Lord, and I thought they seemed very happy together. The other couples were Sir Hector Downcharge, of Kennelhouse, a great sportsman, who came in his militia uniform, and Miss Pie, the daughter of the celebrated Mrs. Margaret, or Mag Pie, as her neighbours call her. And opposite to them were a Mr. Puddock, a person connected with the City, who, through the death of a relative, has just come into possession of a fine marshy estate among the Lincolnshire Fens; and Miss Lavinia Greyhound, who, as all the world knows, was a long time engaged to young Hare, who ran away from her in a very shameful way, and hurt her feelings so much that she did not appear again in public for several months.

Drinkwater and I stood aside, and entertained ourselves with quiet remarks to each other, not always complimentary to the company. He thought Miss Pie the prettiest of the dancers, and certainly she was sweetly dressed, and looked very well. Her partner, Sir Hector, was, without doubt, the handsomest of the gentlemen, though he appeared to me to give himself airs, like an overfed spaniel that has been too much petted, and to lounge about in a way not at all becoming a lady's ball-room. The little fellow from the City, his vis-À-vis, was a very different person—he seemed determined to let us all know that he had lately been taking twelve dancing-lessons of Madame Hopper, for he turned his toes out in the most elegant way, and was evidently quite impressed with a belief that he was astonishing the spectators with his surprising agility. The very tie of his cravat made Drinkwater nearly die with suppressed laughter; and when the youth began dancing, we were obliged to take a walk into the adjoining Conservatory, lest our merriment should be discovered. I never knew a more delightful place than this Conservatory; the flowers in it are brighter than I have seen elsewhere; and some that Drinkwater gathered for me were far sweeter than any I had ever known before. We staid sometime in this Conservatory looking at the beautiful exotics, and talking of nothing else but of them and the weather; and it was not till we had been there more than half-an-hour that I discovered that we were quite alone. We immediately returned to the ball-room, where, luckily, our absence had not been discovered, and in a few minutes were whirling round in a most delightful waltz.

But I have forgotten the rest of the company. Foremost in dignity was the Countess Auk, of Stornaway Rock, in the Hebrides; and with her were her two nieces, Lady Isabella Snipe and the Honourable Miss Woodcock. I saw Mr. Reynard, the celebrated member for Hollowoak, having a long gossip with the Countess and her young charges, for both of whom he seemed to profess great admiration. Mr. Jay, the member for Chatterfield, was likewise there, and paid a good deal of attention, I thought, to the Honourable Miss Dove, a cousin of Miss Pigeon's. Miss Dove plays very nicely, and sometimes, when the band required rest, she rattled off a waltz in fine style, Mr. Jay most attentively turning the music-leaves.

Drinkwater also pointed out to me Miss Stork, the daughter of the Attorney-General, so famous for the length of his bill; Miss Blaccap, who, they say, sings as sweetly as a Robin-Redbreast; Lord Bruin, who has just come from a tour in Russia; the Right Honourable Mr. Ramshead; and a crowd of folks, more or less known, most of whom would stand by the doorway and prevent the servants and the fresh air from entering the room.

About three o'clock the Countess of Auk's carriage was summoned, and the company began to retire. Drinkwater and I stood shivering on the stairs full half-an-hour before Lady Goldfinch's brougham was announced; and when we reached home, I found I had been fast asleep with my head on Drinkwater's shoulder.

Ten days after Lady Chaffinch's ball, I was obliged to tear myself away from my kind aunt and my dear cousin, and with only Tom-tit for my companion, to return to this dismal Gorse Bush, which I used to think the sweetest of homes. Now I do nothing but wonder how long it will be before my aunt invites me to London again. Tom-tit brings me letters from the post-boy much oftener than before, and were it not for them, I do not think I could bear my existence.

This is the substance of some letters I have lately received from my dear friend, Julia Linnet. She is a warm-hearted little thing, easily led away by her enthusiasm. At first, I was afraid she would pine away with melancholy; but all my uneasiness was dispelled a few mornings since, when a lace-bordered envelope reached me, enclosing two cards tied together with silver-cord, on one of which was written,—