me with the usual carriage and the usual driver, and beholding
me coming in my usual dress out at the usual door, it struck me that
their recollection of my having been absent for any unusual time was at
once cancelled. They behaved (they are both young dogs) exactly in their
usual manner; coming behind the basket phaeton as we trotted along, and
lifting their heads to have their ears pulled--a special attention which
they receive from no one else. But when I drove into the stable-yard,
Linda (the St. Bernard) was greatly excited; weeping profusely, and
throwing herself on her back that she might caress my foot with her
great fore-paws. Mamie's little dog, too, Mrs. Bouncer, barked in the
greatest agitation on being called down and asked by Mamie, "Who is
this?" and tore round and round me, like the dog in the Faust outlines.
You must know that all the farmers turned out on the road in their
market-chaises to say, "Welcome home, sir!" and that all the houses
along the road were dressed with flags; and that our servants, to cut
out the rest, had dressed this house so that every brick of it was
hidden. They had asked Mamie's permission to "ring the alarm-bell" (!)
when master drove up, but Mamie, having some slight idea that that
compliment might awaken master's sense of the ludicrous, had recommended
bell abstinence. But on Sunday the village choir (which includes the
bell-ringers) made amends. After some unusually brief pious reflections
in the crowns of their hats at the end of the sermon, the ringers bolted
out, and rang like mad until I got home. There had been a conspiracy
among the villagers to take the horse out, if I had come to our own
station, and draw me here. Mamie and Georgy had got wind of it and
warned me.

Divers birds sing here all day, and the nightingales all night. The
place is lovely, and in perfect order. I have put five mirrors in the
Swiss chalet (where I write) and they reflect and refract in all kinds
of ways the leaves that are quivering at the windows, and the great
fields of waving corn, and the sail-dotted river. My room is up among
the branches of the trees; and the birds and the butterflies fly in and
out, and the green branches shoot in, at the open windows, and the
lights and shadows of the clouds come and go with the rest of the
company. The scent of the flowers, and indeed of everything that is
growing for miles and miles, is most delicious.

Dolby (who sends a world of messages) fou