think you will understand me
when I get back, and I don't think you'll like it much. I should be a
good deal criticised if I spoke like that at Bangor. However, I verily
believe Bangor is the most critical place on earth; I have seen nothing
like it over here. Tell them all I have come to the conclusion that they
are _a great deal too fastidious_. But I was speaking about this English
young lady and her brother. I wish I could put them before you. She is
lovely to look at; she seems so modest and retiring. In spite of this,
however, she dresses in a way that attracts great attention, as I
couldn't help noticing when one day I went out to walk with her. She was
ever so much looked at; but she didn't seem to notice it, until at last I
couldn't help calling attention to it. Mr. Leverett thinks everything of
it; he calls it the "costume of the future." I should call it rather the
costume of the past--you know the English have such an attachment to the
past. I said this the other day to Madame do Maisonrouge--that Miss Vane
dressed in the costume of the past. _De l'an passe, vous voulez dire_?
said Madame, with her little French laugh (you can get William Platt to
translate this, he used to tell me he knew so much French).

You know I told you, in writing some time ago, that I had tried to get
some insight into the position of woman in England, and, being here with
Miss Vane, it has seemed to me to be a good opportunity to get a little
more. I have asked her a great deal about it; but she doesn't seem able
to give me much information. The first time I asked her she told me the
position of a lady depended upon the rank of her father, her eldest
brother, her husband, etc. She told me her own position was very good,
because her father was some relation--I forget what--to a lord. She
thinks everything of this; and that proves to me that the position of
woman in her country cannot be satisfactory; because, if it were, it
wouldn't depend upon that of your relations, even your nearest. I don't
know much about lords, and it does try my patience (though she is just as
sweet as she can live) to hear her talk as if it were a matter of course
that I should.

I feel as if it were right to ask her as often as I can if she doesn't
consider every one equal; but she always says she doesn't, and she
confesses that she doesn't think she is equal to "Lady
Something-or-other," who is the wife of that relation of her father. I