en
as we do, there would be some logic in saying "an American accent," but
what can an "English" one be! One might as sensibly remark upon a
Frenchman from Paris having a French accent, or a German from Berlin.

I suppose it must be the climate which obliges people to make such
disagreeable throat-clearing noises. In any public place it is
absolutely distressing, and makes one creep with disgust.

At all the restaurants we have been to, the food is most excellent, and
they have such delightfully original dishes and ways of serving things.
There are not such quantities of "coloured gentlemen" as one supposed,
about; and they don't have them even for servants in the big hotels,
but at a smaller one, where Southern people go, and we went to call on
some-one, there were lots of them; and they have such gentle voices and
good manners I like them.

Yesterday Octavia and I went to a "department store" to buy, among
other things, some of their lovely ready-made costumes to take out West
with us, and it was so amusing; the young ladies at the ribbon counter
were chatting with the young ladies at the flowers, divided by a high
set of drawers, so they had to climb up or speak through the passage
opening. Presently after we had tried to attract their attention, one
condescended to serve us, while she finished her conversation with her
friend round the corner perfectly indifferent as to our wants, or if we
bought or not! The friend surveyed us and chewed gum. But when we got
to the costume salon, they were most polite. Two perfect dears attended
to us, and were so sympathetic as to our requirements, and talked
intelligently and well on outside subjects. Octavia and I felt we were
leaving old friends when we went. Why should you be rude measuring off
ribbons, and polite showing clothes?

To-morrow we go to Philadelphia to stay with Kitty Bond, who as you
know isn't so colossally rich as the rest, but just as nice as Valerie;
and they have a house which has been there for a hundred years, so it
will be interesting to see the difference.

The Vicomte has been good and docile. I have not had to keep him in
order once, but he comes round all the time, and when he thinks people
are looking he gazes devotedly at Octavia, and everyone thinks he is
her affair. Isn't it intelligent of him, Mamma?

I am glad you have not scolded me about Harry and our quarrel in your
last letter; but there is no use your being angry with him and saying