YOURS of the 23d February came last night. I had spent the evening out. It was pleasant, indeed, to find letters and papers on my table awaiting me.

Sorry I disappointed you about the Jerusalem trip. “It was not my fault,” you may be sure. That is one of the drawbacks of traveling in a party. The composing members are much given to pulling different ways and not making any sacrifice of individual preferences. This friction is trying, but the “kindly race of men” (Heaven save the mark!) is gregarious, and traveling alone is almost worse. So—o—o—h! Next time you shall have a letter written in the shadow of the temple; perhaps another under a canopy of the boughs of the Cedars of Lebanon; and yet another within sound of the purling brook of Hebron. Be consoled. Above all, do not doubt that I shall make contributions from every “grand division” to your entertainment. It is not so long ago you prodded me with that expectation on your part. Not that I missed its flavor of mockery, ma foi! Ah! the “golden fair enchanted” future, that holds the goals of all our ambitions, the realities of all our dreams, the crowns of all our victories!

Do not send the book. Anxious and eager as I am to see it, I am not willing to run the risk of missing it. I am no nearer a decision as to the date of sailing than this: it will not be earlier than the 26th of this, or later than the middle of next month. If the latter, because I will have waited for company. Some very agreeable ladies are going then, and have urged me to wait. When I persisted in holding the negative attitude, one became exasperated and burst forth, “I bet five dollars you will.” Didn’t “Old Kaintuck” speak out then? And if I must tell on myself, I have not felt so sure I would not since!

I like the title of the book more and more. There is genius in it. Whose? Don’t tell me not yours. It is “so smart,” as they say in Kentucky. I never think of it without its stirring my brain to try “to think up” a better one. It must be “a brilliant success.”

We are in a tremendous hubbub. “Madame” is “moving.” We are going to be almost “next-door neighbors” to Queen Isabella.

As soon as in order, “Madame” gives a house-warming. She is a generous soul, and ought to be a chatelaine. Her grandmother was a duchess at the court of Louis XVI. She never not only omits them, but makes chances to give entertainments. An invalid heiress follows with “a five o’clock tea” in her private salon. There will be rivalry of tea-gowns; mine is ready. Ever since I gave it a trial donning on its coming from “the man-tailor,” they have called me “Lady Collins.” Bloom and beauty having departed, age and wrinkles are—knighted. Heigh, ho! why could not one have all honors together?

L. G. C.

Paris, March 8, 1887.