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.
"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.