My dear little friend,

   On the tuesday (sic) after I left you my note, I went to Fieldsbury House. It is a high, bare, red brick building. An avenue of poplars & a dark closed gate lead to it. Penelope seemed no more at home than I was. She rang [and when the parlour maid]came we were shewn into a room, where two ladies were sitting, each with one neat, slippered foot on a stool, each at worsted work, each in a dark green robe, & mittens. Miss Pembroke formally rose, followed noiselessly & slowly by Miss Priscilla. By turns they curtsied, & said "I hope that you are well Madam,"

"How are you, also, Penelope? added they, without a smile.

"I thank you, aunts," said she formally & respectfully, "I am quite well." When alone with her I asked her why they were so cold & distant. "They like me to be respectful madam. I dare not speak more," was the reserved reply. I asked

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a painful one. I heard the Aunts & Penel^e rise at 6 next morning, so forthwith, I rose too. Looking out of [the] window I saw them walking up & down the avenue. When near the window, I could hear what they said. They stalked along in formal silence. Penel^e ran from them & returned with a flower, & giving to her aunt she said. "How beautiful is it not, aunt?" "No," was the gruff reply. "No" said Pris^a "It's a common red daisy! A nasty weed! Throw it away! You are a complete tomboy! Walk properly & take no liberties." Penel^e bore it with good humour. "Don't care a bit," said Miss Pem. "Quite a pest!" said Priscilla. Penelope began crying. "Oh dear!" said Priscilla. "Come, Miss Sensitive, Dry those pearly tears! And give yourself no airs, I beg!" Penelope could not leave off directly, so Miss Pembroke said "How obstinate!" "Yes," said Pris, "walk by yourself Miss Dignity, not with us I pray!" She dared not disobey. During my visit, for a fortnight they never deprived her of what she could want or wish for, but treating her with that coldness & harshness, which is the grindstone of good temper, & of the common enjoyment of life.

I have been at home for the last few months, but, in June, I again saw Penelope. She was no longer lively, & less amiable. But her parents have returned, & I hear that by their good management & kindness, she is gradually becoming what she originally was. I wish every instance of this ended so happily. Be careful to preserve that cheerfulness which is not dependent on circumstances & which (if founded on the only safe backing) makes the happiness of life. That you may ever possess this is the sincere desire [of

   Your old friend

      Mrs Maria.]

My dear little friend,

   I am now at Miss Berrils near Bristol. A lady lives here & often comes to Miss Berrils, who takes no interest in anything around her, is very taciturn, & observes nothing. One day I observed this to my friend. "Shew her some fossils," was the answer. Accordingly, we walked a few hours on the rocks, & after I had found some nice petrifactions, I carried them to her, in a basket. The moment I produced them she was full of animation, & & we could hear nothing for the rest of the visit but the long names of the fossils.

In returning, my friend told me this anecdote of her. One day she was preparing some medicine for her brother, very ill. A man with fossils came to the door. She went to him, & after having laid out much silver & leisurely looking over all the articles, she [asked the man where he had]procured them. "From a shop, in a ---- near here" he replied. She took her bonnet & shawl from the hall, & followed the man to a shop where the fossils were rare, large & delicately perfect. She stayed there a long time but after having spent all the money she had about her, and thinking of going home for more, her brother's situation entered her mind. Though thoughtless, she did not want for feeling, and judge of her feelings, when on returning, she found that her brother, through her neglect, was dangerously worse, & that his life was despaired of. After many, many weeks he recovered which he probably would have done much sooner, but for her neglect. In a number of instances has this devotion to one thing, a useless thing, led her into trouble! All her duties are neglected for what ought to be a mere recreation, & for this, her time & money fly.

Never act thus.

   Your old friend,

       M^rs Maria

Those children who like these notes, will perhaps like to know who Mrs Maria Gray was. Imagine then, an elderly lady, in a quiet colored (sic) dress. A peculiar ------ a shirred cap, with a white muslin or satin rosette at the summit. A pair of neat gloves, out of doors mittens of lambswool

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indoors. Grey hair turned up under her cap. A white muslin handkerchief over her shoulders, & a white muslin apron. A small pincushion swings at the side, & spectacles rest on her nose. These are her outward uncommon peculiarities. Her mind is more uncommon than her dress, & I hope my young readers will profit by her advice.

Mary Phelps 1822 - 1896 and Anne Evans 1820 - 1870 were first cousins. Mary, whose home was in Madeira, was living (for health reasons) with her aunt and uncle at Market Bosworth. Her uncle, Arthur Benoni Evans 1781 - 1854, was headmaster of the Market Bosworth (boys only) Grammar School. Girls did not attend the school but this did not stop them from learning Latin and Greek, the arts and being proficient writers in English. Put in another way, Arthur Benoni Evans, a kind man and great educationist, was happy to teach his daughters and niece.

The books were handmade in 1833 by the girls and measure 10cm x 14cm.