m 'goot look,' and I
overhear them say, 'That girl will show them all something yet.' Oh, this
London is adorable, my dears, with its wit and fashion, and gaiety and
luxury! and I have concluded that to live in the world is the best thing
one can do, after all. Some people say hard things about it, and want to
reform it, or even to leave it altogether; but I love it! I love it! and
think it just charming!

"And now spring is here, and the world is lovely in its yellow and green.
It must be _urromassy_ nice over yandher in the 'oilan' too, with the
primroses and the violets and the gorse in the glen. Oh, dear! oh, dear!
I can smell it all three hundred miles away! The lilacs will be out at
Glenfaba now, and Aunt Anna will be collecting her Easter eggs.
Well--wait a whilley, and I'll come to thee, my dears!

"Not a word from John Storm, of course. No doubt he is fighting with
shadows while other people are struggling with realities. They tell me
these Brotherhoods are common in the Church now, though most of them are
secret societies; but the more I think of that kind of religion the more
it looks like setting tasks to try faith, as if God were a coquettish
woman. That reminds me that Mr. Worldly-Wealthy-Wiseman is no longer a
canon, having got himself made archdeacon, and as such he looks more than
ever like a black Spanish cock, being clad, of course, in those funny
clothes, like the bishops, which always make one think their lordships
must be in doubt on getting up in the morning whether they ought to wear
a schoolboy's knickerbockers or a ballet-girl's skirt, so they settle the
difficulty by putting on both. For this reason I try to avoid him when on
duty at the church, lest I should be suddenly possessed of a devil and
behave badly to his face. But this being Lent, and there being special
preachers every day, it chanced on Sunday morning that I came upon three
of him all in a row, and oh, my gracious, Solomon in all his glory was
not arrayed like one of these!

"It is too bad, though, to think that men like John Storm can't find room
in the Church for the sole of their foot, while this archdemon is
flourishing in it like a green bay tree. Forgive me, grandfather; I can't
help it. But then the Church in the country doesn't seem the same as in
town. _There_ you are somehow made to feel that man does a little and God
does all the rest, while _here_ we reverse that order of things, with the
result that this seed of the