Bobbies pulls a kidney bean or a tomato or digs a potato for my dinner,
about half an hour before it is served. There is a sheep in the garden,
but I hardly think it supplies the chops; those, at least, are not
raised on the premises.

One grievance I did have at first, but Mrs. Bobby removed the thorn
from the princess' pillow as soon as it was mentioned. Our next-door
neighbour had a kennel of homesick, discontented, and sleepless puppies
of various breeds, that were in the habit of howling all night until
Mrs. Bobby expostulated with Mrs. Gooch in my behalf. She told me that
she found Mrs. Gooch very snorty, very snorty indeed, because the pups
were an 'obby of her 'usbants; whereupon Mrs. Bobby responded that if
Mrs. Gooch's 'usbant 'ad to 'ave an 'obby, it was a shame it 'ad to be
'owling pups to keep h'innocent people awake o' nights. The puppies were
removed, but I almost felt guilty at finding fault with a dog in this
country. It is a matter of constant surprise to me, and it always give
me a warm glow in the region of the heart, to see the supremacy of the
dog in England. He is respected, admired, loved, and considered, as he
deserves to be everywhere, but as he frequently is not. He is admitted
on all excursions; he is taken into the country for his health; he is a
factor in all the master' plans; in short, the English dog is a member
of the family, in good and regular standing.

My interior surroundings are all charming. My little sitting-room, out
of which I turned Mrs. Bobby, is bright with potted ferns and flowering
plants, and on its walls, besides the photographs of a large and
unusually plain family, I have two works of art which inspire me anew
every time I gaze at them: the first a scriptural subject, treated by an
enthusiastic but inexperienced hand, 'Susanne dans le Bain, surprise par
les Deux Vieillards'; the second, 'The White Witch of Worcester on her
Way to the Stake at High Cross.' The unfortunate lady in the latter
picture is attired in a white lawn wrapper with angel sleeves, and is
followed by an abbess with prayer-book, and eight surpliced choir-boys
with candles. I have been long enough in England to understand the
significance of the candles. Doubtless the White Witch had paid four
shillings a week for each of them in her prison lodging, and she
naturally wished to burn them to the end.

One has no need, though, of pictures on the walls here, for the universe
seems unrolled at one's ve