f general information
than exists in this country on all other topics, it would be very hard
to find. So much, at present, for international copyright."

The same letter kept the promise made in its predecessor that one or two
more sketches of character should be sent: "One of the most amusing
phrases in use all through the country, for its constant repetition, and
adaptation to every emergency, is 'Yes, Sir.' Let me give you a
specimen." (The specimen was the dialogue, in the _Notes_, of straw-hat
and brown-hat, during the stage-coach ride to Sandusky.) "I am not
joking, upon my word. This is exactly the dialogue. Nothing else
occurring to me at this moment, let me give you the secretary's
portrait. Shall I?

"He is of a sentimental turn--strongly sentimental; and tells Anne as
June approaches that he hopes 'we shall sometimes think of him' in our
own country. He wears a cloak, like Hamlet; and a very tall, big, limp,
dusty black hat, which he exchanges on long journeys for a cap like
Harlequin's. . . . He sings; and in some of our quarters, when his bedroom
has been near ours, we have heard him grunting bass notes through the
keyhole of his door, to attract our attention. His desire that I should
formally ask him to sing, and his devices to make me do so, are
irresistibly absurd. There was a piano in our room at Hartford (you
recollect our being there, early in February?)--and he asked me one
night, when we were alone, if 'Mrs. D.' played. 'Yes, Mr. Q.' 'Oh,
indeed, Sir! _I_ sing: so whenever you want _a little soothing_--' You
may imagine how hastily I left the room, on some false pretense, without
hearing more.

"He paints. . . . An enormous box of oil-colors is the main part of his
luggage: and with these he blazes away, in his own room, for hours
together. Anne got hold of some big-headed, pot-bellied sketches he made
of the passengers on board the canal-boat (including me in my fur coat),
the recollection of which brings the tears into my eyes at this minute.
He painted the Falls, at Niagara, superbly; and is supposed now to be
engaged on a full-length representation of me: waiters having reported
that chamber-maids have said that there is a picture in his room which
has a great deal of hair. One girl opined that it was 'the beginning of
the King's Arms;' but I am pretty sure that the Lion is myself. . . .

"Sometimes, but not often, he commences a conversation. That usually
occurs when we are walking the dec