Kitabı oku: «Miss Eden's Letters», sayfa 22
As a general rule, I should not recommend travelling habitually by the railroad with Mr. Macaulay. The more that machine screeches and squeals, the louder he talks; and when my whole soul is wrapped up in wonder as to whether the stoker and the guard are doing their duty, and whether several tenders and trucks are not meeting in between my shoulders, the minor details of the Thirty Years’ War and of the retreat of the 10,000 Greeks lose that thrilling interest they would have in a quiet drawing-room. There is a sort of aggravation in knowing that 10,000 Greeks died ignorant of railway accidents; and there is no use in bothering any more about them, poor old souls!
Your cousins the Duff-Gordons526 were at Bowood. I think her anything but agreeable, but I strongly suspect that instead of our cutting her, she was quietly cutting all of us, merely because she thinks women tiresome. At least, I think there is so little good done by being rude to anybody, that I try to be civil to her, but was repulsed with immense loss. She came down to luncheon every day in a pink striped shirt, with the collar turned down over a Belcher handkerchief, a man’s coat made of green plaid, and a black petticoat. Lord Grey always called her the Corsair; but she was my idea of something half-way between a German student and an English waterman, that amounts to a débardeur. Whatever that may be, I do not know.
London seems quite empty, the 4th Nr. of Dombey has given me infinite pleasure, and I think even you must like that school. Just Villiers’s case at King’s College.
I presume you are at the Grove. Love to all there – at least not all, but a selection. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
ADMIRALTY[Monday, 1848].
MY DEAREST THERESA, I was not standing out this time for the sake of a letter; but, in the first place, I thought you were to be in town again before this, and then I have been so poorly that writing was a great exertion. It is five weeks to-morrow since I have had a breath of fresh air, and now I have taken entirely to the sofa, and do not attempt sitting up, even to meals. When I do, the second course generally consists of a fainting fit, or some little light delicacy of that sort. So now you see why I did not write; it would not have been égayant for your holidays. And illness always seems to me such an immediate visitation from God that it never frets me as many other little travers do, which might have been avoided by a little more sense or conduct.
Lord Auckland seems quite satisfied with the efficient state of the Navy, notwithstanding the loss of that poor Avenger.527 I saw such an interesting private letter to-day from the gunner who was saved, stating so simply his escape and difficulties, not making half the fuss that we should if the carriage had been overturned and we had had to walk half a mile home.
I do not feel alarmed by the Duke’s528 or Lord E.’s letters, but I do not imagine they tell the French anything they did not know before, and as the English never know anything till they have been told it twenty times, it is perhaps not amiss that they should be so far frightened as to make them willing to pay for a little more protection. They would like a very efficient army and a great display of militia, but I doubt whether they will like a shilling more of income-tax.
I always keep myself in good heart by all the axioms on which we were educated, the old John Bull nonsenses – that one Englishman can beat three Frenchmen; that the French eat frogs; and the wooden walls of old England, and Britannia rules the waves, and Hearts of Oak, and parlez voos– all most convincing arguments to us old warriors who lived in the war times, and who went up to the nursery affecting complete insouciance, but fearing that the French would arrive just while Betty Spencer the nurse was down at supper. I quite remember those terrors in 1806; and then came all our victories, and the grand triumphs which reassured me for life. I feel a dead of certainty that before the French had collected twenty steamers, or had put twenty soldiers on board any of them, Sir Charles Napier, or somebody of that sort, would have dashed in amongst them and blown up half ships.
Still it might be as well to have a few more soldiers, if the Duke of Wellington wishes for them, nor do I much object to his writing a foolish letter. He has written a good many in his life.
I go on believing that if the use of pen and ink were denied to our public men, public affairs would get on better. Johnnie529 writes foolish letters, and Lord P.530 does not seem to have written a wise one to Greece. Lord John called here last Thursday in good spirits, and his visits are always as pleasant as they are rare. I do not mean that I blame him for their rarity; it is more surprising that he should be able ever to call at all. But as I have been so shut up for nearly a year, I have seen but little of him, and I must say a little snatch of him is very agreeable and refreshing. Ever, dearest Theresa, your most affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to her Sister, Mrs. Drummond
January 1848.
MY DEAREST MARY, George came home yesterday – a journey from Bowood; a Cabinet yesterday afternoon; another long one this morning; and a Naval dinner which we gave yesterday.
He says Macaulay has quite recovered his spirits, and there was not a break in his conversation at Bowood. Lord John paid me a late visit yesterday, and the servants wisely let him in, though I had said not at home. But it was good-natured of him, as he was only in town for a night, to walk down because he knew I was ill. “So I told them they must let me in.”
I must say that when he told me particulars of the letters that had been written to him, to the Queen, etc. – particulars he did not wish to have repeated – and of the organised conspiracy it has been to try the prerogative of the Crown, he is quite justified in any twitness of letters himself. It is a great pity that some of Dean Merewether’s letters,531 and of Lord John’s begging him to withdraw them, were not published. He wrote to say that if he might have Hereford, or, as he expressed it in a post-boy fashion, “If the Government gives me this turn, which is my due, there would be no objection raised to their giving Doctor Hampden the next Bishopric.” So it shows the Bampton Lectures had not much to do with it.532
As for the Bishop of Oxford,533 the odd intrigue he has been carrying on would have been hardly credible in Louis XIII.’s time in a Cardinal who hoped to be Prime Minister himself. However, I won’t say what I was told not to say. But there is that to be said for our Queen and Prince, that their straightforwardness is a very great trait in their characters, and that they never deceive or join in any deceit against their Minister, but always are frank and true, and repel all intrigue against him. George thought the Prince very clever and well-informed at Windsor; and his character always comes out honest. I take it that he governs us really, in everything.
Somebody said to Lord John, “The Bishop of Oxford could be brought around immediately if you would only say a few words to him,” and he answered, “I suppose he would, if the three words were ‘Archbishop of Canterbury.’” He did not seem at all bitter against him yesterday, but said he had been made a bishop too young for such an ambitious man, and that he had taken to court intrigues in consequence.
I am so glad Daughters interested you.534 I have heard such teasing stories about that Lady Ridley – quite incredible. I am sure a few mothers’ and daughters’ books are wanted just to make them understand each other. If mothers would take the same pains not to hurt their children’s feelings, that they do not to hurt other people’s children, it would make homes much happier. They should not twit them with not marrying, or with being plain, etc., and they should enter, whether they feel it or not, into their children’s tastes. The longer I live, the more I see that if the old mean to be loved by the young, and even on a selfish calculation they ought to wish it, they must think of their own young feelings and susceptibilities, and avoid all the little roughnesses from which they suffered themselves. One of the remorses of my life is not having loved my mother enough, because she was a most excellent mother; but she rather teased me, and held up other girls, and roused bad feelings of jealousy. And my father we all worshipped, though I think he was particular with us, but then it was all done with so much tact. I heard a great deal more about Mrs. Fry535 and her daughter, which set me thinking over all these things. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
ADMIRALTY,Friday [April 1848].
MY DEAREST THERESA, It is impossible to say anything in your favour as a correspondent, so don’t expect it. But you may have other good points. I do not know that you are entirely depraved. To make an example: You might hesitate to stew a child – one of your own, perhaps. But as a constant letter-writer, you are decidedly and finally a failure. I could not imagine what had become of you, and it was a beautiful trait in my character not writing; because nothing is so tiresome as a letter about a long recovery.
I am better, but not well, and the more shame for me, for Ramsgate was charming, everything that it ought to have been, delicious weather for anybody who could not walk much, or drive at all. As it was warm enough to sit out half the day, we had a small house quite close to the sands. Not an acquaintance to disturb us. Ella536 and I suited each other admirably. I was not equal to company, and yet should have been sorry to drive my young lady to a dull life. But it is what she likes best, and she really enjoyed her quiet life, found plenty of amusement for herself, and was quite sorry when our five weeks were over. I do not know any sea place I could like better than Ramsgate; it is so dry and so cheerful, and such quantities of vessels are constantly coming in and out. There were Greek, Russian, Dutch, Swedish, Spanish and French ships in quantities; and the most picturesque-looking people always walking about in the shape of foreign sailors.
We came back on Monday, having a very smooth sea for our voyage, and a remarkably thick fog for our reception, which has lasted till this morning. It is fine now.
No, I cannot say I have worried my intellect much with endeavours to understand the monetary crisis. I am sorry Parliament is to meet, being well aware that a country cursed with a House of Commons never can have any liberty or prosperity; but I suppose it is unavoidable. I was rather glad the Government did something; because even if it is a losing thing, I think the country is better satisfied when the Government seems to try and help it, and it is more creditable to all parties. But it seems to me that the measure has hitherto had a good effect, and has done no harm.
May not I now allude to the “Secret of the Comedy,” and wish you joy of Mr. Lewis’s new office,537 which is one I should think he would like, and I should think you would too. It is interesting work, without being dull slavery, as many offices are.
To be sure, there never was anything like the character Lord C. [Clarendon] is making for himself; and if he could make one for that desperate country he is trying to govern, Solomon would be a misery to him. But what a people! I quite agree with Carlyle, who says: “If the Irish were not the most degraded savages on earth, they would blush to find themselves alive at all, instead of asking for means to remain so.” But everybody agrees in saying they never had such a Lord-Lieutenant before.
I always meant to tell you about your brother Montagu. Two old gentlemen were sitting near me at Ramsgate and talking of the difficulty of finding a seat at the church there, and one of them said: “It is just as bad in London. I sit under the Hon. Villiers, and what’s the consequence? I never go to church because I can’t get a place.” The friend, who was slow, apparently said, “Ah, and it’s much worse if you sit under what’s called a popular preacher.” “Why, sir, that’s my case. The Honourable Villiers is a popular preacher, the most popular preacher in London, and I say that’s the worst of a popular preacher, nobody ever can get in to hear him.” I see Montagu preaching a splendid sermon to himself, and his congregation all sitting glowering at him because there is no room for them in church! But the idea is flattering. The most remarkable marriage in my family is W. Vansittart’s.538 He has been ten years in India, lost his wife, has two children, on whom he settled what little money he had. His furlough was out, and now he has found a Miss Humphreys; good looking, pleasant, well brought up, thirty-four (his own age), and with more than £100,000, and a beautiful home in Hyde Park Gardens, who is going to marry him, settled all her fortune on him, and of course he has not now the least notion where India is, unless towards Paddington perhaps. There is another sister, much younger, if you know of any eligible young man. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
Sunday [1851].
MY DEAR THERESA, I was quite sorry you took all that trouble in vain for me, but I had already let in Lady John and Lady Grey… But what crowned my impossibility of speaking any more, was an extra visit from Locock.539 I am a beast for disliking that man, only everybody has their antipathy born with them. Some don’t like cats, some frogs, and some Lococks. But he is grown so attentive, I repent, and he came on Friday of his own account, and he did not scold me for not being better, and he would not take his guinea, and was altogether full of the most agreeable negatives. I am glad to have seen a doctor once refuse a fee. I felt as if I had earned a guinea. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
ADMIRALTY, Saturday, December 1848.
MY DEAREST THERESA, Your letter has come in at an odd time of day, not leaving much time to answer it; but that is as well, as I cannot make out a long letter. Lady Ashburton540 is undoubtedly dead after twelve hours’ illness; but nobody seems to know much about it, and that family always forget to advertise their own deaths, so that one keeps thinking they may recover long after they are buried. The Miss Barings went to Longleat the day after their mother’s death, and the Ashburtons541 came to town for two nights, and then went to the Grange. I have written twice to her but have had no answer, and I never know exactly how she will take grief; but I should think she must feel all those rapid deaths of friends and relations very much.
C. Buller542 is such a loss to her society as well as to herself, and it will make a great difference in her parties. He is so very much missed by those who knew him well. We had seen a great deal of him this year, and it was impossible not to be fond of him – he was so amiable and good-natured and so light in hand.
I always felt Lady Ashburton would not long outlive Lord Ashburton; she never cared much for anybody else, and was just the woman to fret herself to death. Your affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
Tuesday evening [1851].
MY DEAREST THERESA, I was very glad to see your hand of write again, though you might have given a better account of yourself and Thérèse if you had wished to please. And then poor Bully! That was melancholy; but however, he has been a pleasure to you for years, and that is something, as life goes. I am glad you are up to Lord John’s tricks, because in a general way that very artful young man takes you in in a manner that astonishes me, who sees through him with wonderful perspicacity, and when the Duke543 told me he was going to Harpton544 on his way to Knowsley, I thought he was going to try to seduce my boy Sir George [Lewis] from the paths of rectitude.
I wrote so much to your brother of all the Duke of Bedford said of the old statesman being of use to the young one, and the young statesman taking to the old one (words on which he rings the changes till he makes me sick), that I can’t write it all over again; but by dint of positively declining to understand, and by being so intensely stupid as to ask which Lord Stanley he meant (perhaps he of Alderley), and by writing him short, savage notes in the intervals of the weekly luncheons he takes here, I hope I have rather enlightened that slightly damaged article – his mind. It is a good old mind, too, in its little bald shell; but Lord John had evidently persuaded him that new combination of parties was necessary, and that Lord Stanley was, as he always calls him, the young statesman of the age. William Russell has succeeded Lord John at Woburn, and had evidently snubbed the Duke about this alliance, as his tone was quite changed about it, and he was anxious to prove that the friendship began here. Your affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
ADMIRALTY,Sunday [1851].
MY DEAREST THERESA, I may as well write a line while I can, just in the stages that intervene between the pains of my illness and the pains of my cure; the last being decidedly the worst and the most destructive; my courage has gone for pain.
How are you and yours, and what do you hear from Dublin? I have heard nothing about them since they went. London is this week entirely empty; otherwise there has always been an allowance of a visitor a day – Lord Grey, Lord Palmerston, Lord Cowper, passing through, and so on; and while Lord Auckland and Fanny were at Bowood, my sister, Mrs. Colvile, abandoned in the handsomest manner her husband and children in the wilds of Eaton Place, and came and lived here. I was very unwell at the time, and she is the quietest and best nurse in the world. Poor thing! she well may be.
The report of Lord Godolphin’s545 marriage to Lady Laura gains ground, and though I feel it is not true, it is too amusing to dispute. Ditto, C. Greville’s to Mrs. H. Baring.546 I see his stepchildren playfully jumping on his feet when gout is beginning. Henry Eden is so happy about his marriage, and so utterly oblivious of the fact that he is fifty, that I begin to think that is the best time for being in love. Miss Beresford has £20,000 down now, more hereafter; and as the attachment has lasted twelve years, only waiting for the cruel Uncle’s consent, which was wrung from him by Henry’s appointment to Woolwich, they ought to know what they are about, and luckily when they meet they seem to have liked each other better than ever. But twelve years is rather an awful gap…
Macaulay’s book has unbounded success.547 Not a copy to be had, and everybody satisfied that their copy is the cleverest book in the world. Don’t tell anybody, but I can’t read it – not the fault of the book, but I can’t take the trouble, and had rather leave it till I can enjoy it, if that time ever comes.
Good-bye, dearest Theresa. Love to Mrs. V. When do you come to town? How goes on your book?548 Yours affectionately,
E. E.
CHAPTER XIV
1849-1863
Miss Eden to Lady Campbell
EDEN LODGE, KENSINGTON GORE,Tuesday evening, 1849.
MY OWN DEAREST PAM, I hear to-day that you too are bereaved of what was most dear to you;549 and it has roused me to write, for if any one has a right to feel for and with you, through my old, deep, unchanged affection, early ties, association in happy days, and now through calamity, – it is I. Dearest, how kindly you wrote to me in my first bitter hours,550 when I hardly understood what comfort could mean, and yet, your warm affection did seem to comfort me, and I wish I could now say to you anything that could help you.
You have children, to love and to tend, and yet again, they may be fresh sources of anxiety. I have heard nothing but that there was a long previous illness; and though you may have had the anxiety of much watching, still I think that it is better than a sudden rending of the ties of life… We came here Friday, but I have not been able to go out of my own room. This reminds me of you as well as of him. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
EDEN LODGE,Saturday, December 1849.
Thank you very much, my dear old friend, for thinking of me and my sorrows in the midst of all your gladsome family, and your happy Christmas. I earnestly hope and trust you will have many as happy, and even more so as your children grow up around you, and become what you have tried to make them.
The paper-knife is beautiful, and if it were not so I should have been pleased at your thinking of me; and considering how long I have tried the patience of my friends, it is marvellous how little it has failed.
It was a twelvemonth yesterday since he left me to go to the Grange. I had got out of bed and was settled on the sofa, that he might go off with a cheerful impression of me, and we had our luncheon together; and he came in again in his fine cloak to say good-bye, and I thought how well he was looking. And that was the close of a long life of intense affection. I do not know why I should feel additionally sad as these anniversaries come round, for I never think less or more on the subject on any day. It is always there. But still this week is so burnt in on my mind that I seem to be living it all dreamily over again.
I wish at all events to be able to keep (however cold and crushed I feel myself) the power of entering into the happiness of others, and I like to think of you, dear Theresa… Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
[VILLETTE], BROADSTAIRS,Wednesday [1853].
MY DEAREST THERESA …I do not know whether you have heard of dear little Mary Drummond’s marriage to Mr. Wellesley.551 He is a really good, sensible young man, the greatest friend her brothers and sisters have, much looked up to in his office; and though he might have been a little richer, they will not be ill off, and there is a tangible sum to settle on her, and altogether I think it is a cheerful event. Their young happiness will do good to all our old unhappinesses, and I think Mrs. Drummond’s letters are already much more cheerful from her having all the love-making, trousseau, etc., to write about instead of her health. Little Mary is such a darling – so bright and useful and unselfish, and so buoyantly happy, that I do not see how they are to get on without her. Her letters make me feel almost youthful again. She is so thoroughly pleased with her lot in life.
Maurice552 and Addy are taking their holiday at Broadstairs. I had never seen them in this sort of intimate way, and I did not expect to be so pleased as I am with both of them. His manner to her is perfect – not only full of tenderness and attention, but he is very sensible in his precautions about her health, and takes great care of her in every way. She looks fearfully delicate. He is very attentive to me too, and as they came in this direction partly to see if they could be of use to me, I am glad it has all turned out so well. My health is in a very poor state, and I am obliged to give up going down to the Baths, but a cottage always has room for everything; and we are turning what is by courtesy called a Green-house, into a bath-room, opening out of my sitting-room. I like the place, and its quiet and bracing air and its busy sea. It is always covered with ships, and I do not regret the move. Your ever affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Dover. 553
BROADSTAIRS, 1851.
Your letter, dearest, was by some accident delayed on the road, and when I received it the life you were all watching so anxiously was then only to be numbered by hours, and I did not like to break in on you. Your poor sister!554 From my heart I grieve for her, and from the very beginning of this severe trial I have had almost daily accounts of her.
I would have written to you sooner about your own child’s555 happiness, but I was very ill when I heard of it. It is one of the marriages that seems to please everybody, and as I do not think anybody would have been satisfied with a moderately good son-in-law for you, or a commonplace husband for Di, I am quite convinced that all that is said of Mr. Coke must be true.
I sometimes hope that when your child is married, and your poor sister can spare you, that you and Lucia556 might be tempted to come here for a few days. The journey is only three hours, and it is such a quiet little place to stay in. The hotel is only a little village inn. I do so long to see you.
Lord Carlisle talked of coming here for a day or two, but then I was not allowed to see anybody. I wish you would tell him with my love how much I should like to see him at any time, when he can leave his family and his public duties.
Lady Grey kindly came here on Saturday, and is gone back to-day, and I had a visit from the Ellesmeres last week, for which I had been anxiously looking, as I was obliged once to put them off, and I wanted much to see her. She is looking very thin, and is much depressed; but still it always does me good to be with her, and to see such a well-regulated Christian heart as hers. The second day she talked constantly of her boy,557 and as it was her own volunteering I hope the exertion may have done her good. Lord E. is particularly well. The suddenness of the poor boy’s death preys on her, and much as your sister has witnessed of pain and illness, I still think that it is the sudden grief which breaks the heart-strings. It is the difference between the avalanche which crushes and the stream which swells gradually and has time to find its level. But perhaps every one that is tried finds the readiest excuse for their own especial want of resignation.
My health does not improve. They say the last attack a fortnight ago was gout in the stomach. I trust God will spare me a recurrence of such suffering, for I am grown very cowardly; but, at all events, every medical precaution has now been taken, and I am not anxious as to the result, though shamefully afraid of pain.
God bless you. Yours affectionately,
E. EDEN.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
[VILLETTE], BROADSTAIRS, 1851.
There is nothing I like so much as a letter, dearest Theresa, but I am so often unable to answer them that, of course, my correspondents are disheartened, and I cannot wonder at it. Just now a private letter is invaluable, for when I woke up after six days of agony, which cut me off even from a newspaper, I found that there had not only been various Ministries formed and destroyed, but that The Times had become perfectly drivelling. Its baseness and inconsistency did not shock me, and we have been brought up to that; but it writes the sort of trash that a very rheumatic old lady who had been left out of Lord John’s parties might indite. It really worries me, because I cannot make out who or what it is writing for or about, or what it wants. There is no use in commenting on your letters. I am very sorry for all that is past, because I like Lord John, and he seems to have played a poor part. This last abandonment of the Papal Bill558 is to my mind the falsest step of all, and I think the most ruinous to his character and the country, and totally unlike him. I always keep myself up by setting down everything wrong that is done to the Attorney-General,559 and everything foolish that is written, to C. Greville. Quite unjust; but I have never forgiven the Attorney-General that Park history, and C. G. tried to do as much mischief as he could in The Times last year about foreign politics, and this year about the Pope.
Anyhow, it is an ugly state of things, and cannot last long. I heard from a person to whom Sir James Graham said it, that he would not serve under Lord John, but that he would under Lord Clarendon; and I cannot imagine that Lord Clarendon will not be Prime Minister before three months are over.560 I am afraid he is papally wrong, but I give that point up now. The Pope has beat us and taken us; and when once a thing is done there is no use in grumbling. England will be a Roman Catholic country; and I shall try and escape into Ireland (which will, of course, become Protestant and comfortable eventually), unless I fall into the hands of Pugin,561 who has built a nice little church and convent, with an Inquisition home to match at Ramsgate. I suppose we shall be brought out to be burnt on the day of Sanctus Carolus,562 for the Pope cannot do less than canonise Charles Greville.
I did not admire Lord Stanley’s speech as many Whigs did; there was the old little-mindedness and grudging testimony to adversaries in it. I always think Lord Lansdowne comes out as a real, gentlemanlike, high-minded statesman on these occasions. However, I know nothing about it really, for I have not seen a human being this fortnight.
Eden Lodge had been let to what seemed an eligible tenant, a rich widow with one daughter, but three days before she was to have taken possession she said her friends had frightened her about the Exhibition. I do not suppose anybody will take it this year, which is inconvenient to me, in a pecuniary point of view; but it cannot be helped. You do not mention the children – is Villiers grown up? married? Prime Minister or what? Your book looks imposing in the advertisements.
Love to Mrs. Villiers and to Lord Clarendon when you write. Your affectionate
E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis
EDEN LODGE, KENSINGTON GORE,Saturday, March 1856.
MY DEAREST THERESA, Such a fascinating bullfinch! Mr. Whittaker’s assortment arrived two days ago, and he brought six here this morning in small wooden prisons; and the scene was most interesting. All of them clearing their throats and pretending that they had taken cold and did not know whether they could sing; and all swelling into black and red balls, and then all bursting at once into different little airs; and Whittaker, who partakes of the curious idiosyncrasy which I have traced in Von der Hutten and other bird dealers, that of looking like a bullfinch and acting as such, going bowing and nodding about to each cage, till I fancied that his coat and waistcoat were all purfled out like bird’s feathers; and I, lying on the sofa, insisting in a most stately manner that some of the birds did not bring the tune down to its proper keynote, though it was impossible I could tell, as they all sang at once. However, I chose one that sings to command (a great merit). “’Tis good to be merry and wise,” and now I have him alone, I am confident you will like him. If not, the man will change him. I shall be so pleased, dearest Theresa, if he gives you even a moment’s pleasure, and I am certain from sad experience that in a settled deep grief,563 it is wise to have these little adventitious cheerfulnesses put into the background. It is good for those who are with us, at all events. And there is something catching in the cheerfulness of animals, just as the sight of flowers is soothing.
