has seen more of the world, dearest, and, as I say, he has entirely based his opinion on these little points, which he says 'were unconsciously revealed' in your diary."
Now, here again I must pause to give a little lecture to my pet. This history was meant entirely for her own gentle eyes; in it I unfold my most secret thoughts and speculations. I confess I did not think it would be exhibited to Mr. ——, benefactor as he is of mine, and as I must call him. Through every mind are coursing the strangest inconsistencies, wishes, plans, ideas, which one would be ashamed to admit the existence of to any one, save the dearest. Outwardly the wise man will not let such interior feelings affect his actions. So in future, I trust my darling won't exhibit my nonsense to any one, especially as it has brought me into discredit with Mr. ——, who, you see, has formed already rather a low opinion of my strength of mind. I am sorry he thinks so poorly of me, yet he is welcome indeed. For never, never can I forget the kindness he has loaded me with. He has saved my life, and saved our little home; for I shall return strong and healthy, please God. Still he does not know me, nor what a discipline I have subjected myself to all my life.
What oddities there are in these various foreign countries, and nothing more odd here than this—Homburg itself is quite Protestant, with about fifty Catholics or so; yet we walk across a few fields and we come upon a purely Catholic little village called Kirdorff, in which it is said there is not a single Protestant. In another direction three miles off, there is a village as purely Huguenot, composed entirely of French Protestants, who talk in some mysterious compound of old French and German. These, I say, seem what a precise English friend called "quite refreshing ethnological eccentricities." From Kirdorff comes news that a German archbishop is to preach and confirm on Sunday. It was a pleasant walk in the fresh air of a morning that seemed to hide its face coquettishly under a thin veil and whisper, "By-and-by you will see my face in all its splendour." A queer little German village of thick raw reds and greens which are so uncomfortable to look at, good houses built of very rude bricks and framework; but a really fine church with two tall spires. In this little spot, whose street winds and turns a great deal, they have tried in their honest simple way to do honour to their visitor. There are green triumphal arches of fir, surmounted each with a cross, and every house is festooned with green garlands of fir. The whole town was literally gathered in this handsome church; not a head was in any window; the men at one side, grim, rather gaunt creatures, and the women at the other side. It had all the air of a little village festival—innocent, pretty, fervent, with the rows of young girls in white and flowers, waiting for confirmation. Now the archbishop, a tall figure with a good massive head, is preaching with extraordinary earnestness, and gestures, and tones, which are really new and dramatic, and which at home might enliven some of our sermons. Then the rude German voices are raised in their favourite hymns, given out with stentorian power, moving slowly and lumberingly, but still with fine effect. I cannot but think if the gang of money changers yonder, whose rival temple I can see from the porch, who if they were driven out, as they shortly will be, would not scruple to set their infamous wheels and tables in this sacred precinct, should no other place be found. The contrast was indeed wonderful; but I am a little staggered by seeing next me a very notorious croupier, with his little boy and a hymn-book in his hand. The respectable name of "the Bank" I suppose has blinded him. I am glad to see all the carriages in Homburg have driven out to this form at Mortfleurs, and I can make out at the top some fair English girls who do not belong to that fold; but who look on with a respectful attention.
Now ready,
THE COMPLETE SET
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