eing able to see and catch, the halfs of corks,
shirt-buttons, and flowerets pulled from the vases. One child, with a
bandaged head, who was determined to be heard at any cost, stammered out
to her some story about a head-over-heels tumble, not one word of which
was intelligible; another insisted that my mother should bend down, and
then whispered in her ear, "My father makes brushes."

And in the meantime a thousand accidents were happening here and there
which caused the teachers to hasten up. Children wept because they could
not untie a knot in their handkerchiefs; others disputed, with scratches
and shrieks, the halves of an apple; one child, who had fallen face
downward over a little bench which had been overturned, wept amid the
ruins, and could not rise.

Before her departure my mother took three or four of them in her arms,
and they ran up from all quarters to be taken also, their faces smeared
with yolk of egg and orange juice; and one caught her hands; another her
finger, to look at her ring; another tugged at her watch chain; another
tried to seize her by the hair.

"Take care," the teacher said to her; "they will tear your clothes all
to pieces."

But my mother cared nothing for her dress, and she continued to kiss
them, and they pressed closer and closer to her: those who were nearest,
with their arms extended as though they were desirous of climbing; the
more distant endeavoring to make their way through the crowd, and all
screaming:--

"Good by! good by! good by!"

At last she succeeded in escaping from the garden. And they all ran and
thrust their faces through the railings to see her pass, and to thrust
their arms through to greet her, offering her once more bits of bread,
bites of apple, cheese-rinds, and all screaming in concert:--

"Good by! good by! good by! Come back to-morrow! Come again!"

As my mother made her escape, she passed her hand once more over those
hundreds of tiny outstretched hands as over a garland of living roses,
and finally arrived safely in the street, covered with crumbs and spots,
rumpled and dishevelled, with one hand full of flowers and her eyes
swelling with tears, and happy as though she had come from a festival.
And inside there was still audible a sound like the twittering of birds,
saying:--

"Good by! good by! Come again, _madama_!"

GYMNASTICS.

Tuesday, 5th.

As the weather continues extremely fine, they have made us pass from
chamber gymnastics