s a
complete contrast to your missionary. Her dress had three colors; blue
satin in front, wreathed across with a wreath of rosebuds and leaves
over each flounce. Running up each side were other wreaths, fastening
down the edges of a long train of white silk, that was fastened in a
wide box-plait at the back of the neck, and swept away to the carpet,
where it fell and floated like a snow-drift scattered over with roses,
for they were done in needle work all over the white robe, and seemed to
grow there. The dress was cut square about the neck, and filled in with
lace. She had half-sleeves, too, a thing I was glad to see, for some of
the stuck-up persons who came there with no sleeves, and their dresses
cut short about the neck, might have taken it for a rebuke. Thank
goodness, I didn't.

Mrs. Sprague wore some jewelry. A wreath of blue stones with white ones
that shone like rain-drops in the sunshine, was fastened in her hair,
and hung quivering in her ears. She had gold bands, full of fiery
stones, on her arms, and some gold thing fell down to her bosom, set
with something that looked to me like half-ripe cherries. Pink coral, E.
E. said it was.

There now, you have Mrs. Sprague's dress, and you have mine. I say
nothing. Certainly hers was handsome. I am not the person to draw
comparisons, but, from the notice given to mine, I had no reason to be
dissatisfied.

Chief Justice Chase stood by his daughter, and shook hands with me in
the most friendly manner--he was quite impressed, I can assure you. He
was large and tall--in fact, grand in his appearance. His smile was
enough to make any one long to know more of him. It reminded me a little
of the great Grand Duke's, which made my heart beat a little sadly.

We moved into the crowd. There I saw a lot of those foreign ministers.
One of them bowed to me. I gave him a dignified bend of the head. This
messing-up of divinity and parties goes against my ideas of propriety.

A Vermont minister would be turned out of his pulpit if he ventured to
show himself in a worldly gathering like that.

"What are you so dignified about, Cousin Phoemie?" says Dempster.
"Didn't you see the minister bowing to us?"

"Yes," says I, "but I don't mean to encourage backsliding and worldly
amusements in Christian leaders. They have no business here."

"But they are not particularly Christians," says he.

"I should think not," says I; "and the Churches that sent them here
ought to know how