ate view
day--nobility and clergy, fellow artists and journalists, army and
navy--such a day as she says can never come again for her, let the
future have what success in store for her it may.

She has sold the picture for a thousand guineas, and her sketch in the
Black and White Exhibition has appeared in one of the illustrated
papers, the same paper offering her _carte-blanche_ for illustrations.
How I feel like swinging her in triumph before the faces of Mesdames
Malise and her friends!--a simple, frank, good girl, who never in her
life thought of crying out about a career, and a smoothing of her way,
or declared her right to devote herself to art, and to such an
unwomanly branch of it as the drawing of horses and soldiers, but set
herself obscurely at work, and toiled as faithfully as if she hadn't a
spark of genius in her--to win what she has already done, and yet will
do!

Mrs. Malise. That reminds me of that household. Our latest news from
it, through Mr. Feldwick, who belongs to a "Sordello" club, for which
my liege had a hankering, only they made him an Irish member, and so
he'd no time (you wonder what a Sordello club may be? A society of
ladies and gentlemen, dear, who read Sordello with a key, and try to
find out whatever it's all about!), and Mr. Feldwick is good enough to
keep him _au courant_ of their discoveries and interpretations, and
gossips with me about the Domestic Club. About this Mr. Feldwick is
concerned. In losing Mrs. Stainton and Miss Hedges, the house lost much
in his eyes, and there have been other changes, and all so much for the
worse, that Mr. F. is seriously debating whether the place can long
continue sufficiently respectable to be honored by the presence of
himself and Smut--his pug dog. The people whom Lady ---- brings about
the place get queerer and queerer, and the ideas and schemes they
broach are----"I'm a man of the world, and something of a philosopher
myself," says Mr. F., "and I know human nature has plenty of shady
corners; but, aw, really, aw, you know there must be _some_ limit!"--which
I was glad to hear from the Truth-Seeker. Young ----'s gone off to see
if the Fiji islanders or some other outlandish creatures haven't more
morality and tenderness and general virtues than the men and women of
civilization; and when I tell you he sailed just after the death by
diphtheria of three of poor Mimi's children, leaving her to bear that,
as all things, unhelped by him, you'll wi