ffort of good nature,
and generally the fruit of a direct appeal. Miss Etty talks more than
she did, too. While I am talking nonsense with Little Handsome, I hear
her amusing my good aunty, and I catch a few words, her utterance
having a peculiar distinctness, and the lowest tones being fine and
clear, like those of a good singer on a pianissimo strain. It is a
peculiarly ladylike articulation; was she born and bred in Ratborough,
I wonder? She never speaks while we are singing. Does she like music,
then? I asked her once, but what sort of answer is "Yes!" to such a
question? And that is all I elicited.

Music again, the forenoon occupation. Miss Flora does not like being
criticized, I find. One must not presume to set her right in the
smallest particular. Singers are proverbially irritable! I am not
certain _I_ could belong to a glee-club, and never get cross or
unreasonable. I hate to be corrected; but I hate more to be incorrect.
I could give Canary a hint or two now and then that would be
serviceable, if she would permit it. I have no right, however, to take
it upon me to instruct her, and it puts her in a pet. She laughed it
off, but I saw the mounting color and the flashing glance. I am an
impudent fellow, I suppose. Honest, to boot. I think she need not take
offence at what was intended as a friendly help. I am no flatterer, at
least. Really, I am hurt that I might not take so trifling a liberty
in behalf of my favorite song. I'll walk off as often as she sings
it. Can her temper be perfectly good? And yet, one could not expect--I
ought not to be surprised. Yet I can't help thinking, suppose--just
suppose I _had_ a right to find fault,--suppose I were a near
friend,--would she bear it then? Supposing she were my companion for
life--Humph! that startles one,--was I near thinking of it in earnest?
She is beautiful; I should be proud of her abroad. But at home,--at
home, where there should be confidence, would there not be constraint?
Must no improvement ever be suggested, because it implies
imperfection? I hope none of my friends will ever be on such terms
with me; if I am touchy like a nettle, may they grasp me hard, and
fear me not.

_Sept. 26th_. This little sheet of water in front of the house has the
greatest variety of aspects; its face is like a human face, full of
varying expressions. A slight haze made it so beautiful just before
sunset, I took my chair, and put it out of the window upon the grass,
th