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.

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