d by drawing out first an arm, then a leg of the
child at full length, just as one pulls an elastic cord to find how far
it will stretch, letting it go with a snap when at full tension--as he
dropped arm or leg when little Malaise resented such unwarrantable
experiments on his ductility by a sudden, louder-than-usual roar. It was
piteous! But to see that father and mother--he lanky, spectacled, grave
as an owl, she serious, abstracted, revolving doubtless some scheme of
work, mechanically getting through this piece of business, recognized as
necessary by their conscientiousness, but perplexing in its nature, and
unaccountable as having fallen to their lot--no propriety, no indignant
sympathy for the baby, could quite withstand the drollery of the scene.

But nothing could pacify nurse! "The idiots!" she almost screamed. "The
child will die, and I hope it will, for she's not fit to have it. I hope
it will die!"

BIEBRICH, 21st.

I have kept this open, thinking I could tell you definitely when we
shall get into our quarters at Schwalbach, but nothing is settled yet,
and we've been pottering about in these river towns. As Schlangenbad and
Wiesbaden are very full, I counsel my lord to stop here where we are
well off; for this is a very comfortable hotel, and I don't want to do
any more unpacking till we are finally bestowed in our rooms at the
Villa Authes.

There is an abandoned palace of the Grand Duke of Nassau here--one of
the ruins in King William's track of '66. It is so melancholy to see
these ruined principalities. Union's a very nice word, but forced union,
matrimonial or political, is not comfortable either to see or endure.
However, here's the palace, with its lovely neglected gardens, grass
uncut, wild flowers flaunting where should be trim velvet turf only,
fountains plashing in weedy ponds--and an admirable resort we find the
shaded avenues and deserted parterres for ourselves and our small queen.
We could scarce be better provided for.

To-day, watching from our windows the steamer coming down the river, we
spied, on its deck, our travelling companions again--Mr. and Mrs.
Malise--and, sure enough, the little gray parcel on the bench not far
from mamma! Going at last, I hope, toward that nurse on the Moselle.
Poor little Malaise!

Address your next as last year. And with fond love to the whole
household,

Your Lil.

* * * * *

18 STANFIELD GARDENS, }