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xxvi "One of my child -friends is getting jealous of Bertie, whom she knows only by name. She said the other day, * It is all in a muddle : Johnny Rowe loves me, but I love you, but you love Bertie, and I dare say he loves somebody else.' Not at all improbable, nor a bad resume of things in general — say in a novel."

Other extracts must be taken as they come de omnibus rebus, each lit up by some gleam of light fancy or solemnised by the undertone of some deep thought : —

"April 13, 1867.

" Special thanks for the little poem of * A Life.' Some lives would seem to be scarcely complete without death ; it comes as such a beautiful, harmonious rounding off ; with others of us it is a horrible discord, the sudden snap of a tiger's tooth ; the letter made me cry, it seemed such a pity for the friendship to be broken ; only, God knows best. I have not had many sorrows in my life ; but, looking back even already, I would not be with- out one of them. " " Apropos to nothing, Why is it that the Scotch say, 'Puir body,' and the English, ' Poor soul? 1 Do the Scotch think the soul never needs pity ; or do they turn it over to their ministers, as they would their clothes to a tailor ?" " Somebody asked me once what I should do if I found myself at the head of a household ? I said ' Abdicate,' with the promptitude of instinct ; but even that is not possible with such dreadfully conscientious people, who will not impose upon one comfortably."