s is good, but beat that if you
can!'

She called to me, and I appeared. Mr. John Quincy Copley, Cambridge, was
presented to her niece, Miss Katharine Schuyler, New York. It was over,
and a very small thing to take so long about, too.

He is an architect, and, of course, has a smooth path into Aunt Celia's
affections. Theological students, ministers, missionaries, heroes, and
martyrs she may distrust, but architects never!

'He is an architect, my dear Katharine, and he is a Copley,' she told me
afterwards. 'I never knew a Copley who was not respectable, and many of
them have been more.'

After the introduction was over, Aunt Celia asked him guilelessly if he
had visited any other of the English cathedrals. Any others,
indeed!--this to a youth who had been all but in her lap for a
fortnight. It was a blow, but he rallied bravely, and, with an amused
look in my direction, replied discreetly that he had visited most of
them at one time or another. I refused to let him see that I had ever
noticed him before--that is, particularly.

I wish I had had an opportunity of talking to him of our plans, but just
as I was leading the conversation into the proper channels, the waiter
came in for breakfast orders--as if it mattered what one had for
breakfast, or whether one had any at all. I can understand an interest
in dinner or even in luncheon, but not in breakfast; at least not when
more important things are under consideration.

* * * * *

Memoranda: _'The very stones and mortar of this historic town seem
impregnated with the spirit of restful antiquity.'_ (Extract from one of
Aunt Celia's letters.) _Among the great men who have studied here are
the Prince of Wales, Duke of Wellington, Gladstone, Sir Robert Peel, Sir
Philip Sidney, William Penn, John Locke, the two Wesleys, Ruskin, Ben
Jonson, and Thomas Otway._ (Look Otway up.)

_He_

Oxford, _June 13_,
The Angel.

I have done it, and if I hadn't been a fool and a coward I might have
done it a week ago, and spared myself a good deal of delicious torment.
'How sweet must be Love's self possessed, when but Love's shadows are so
rich in joy!' or something of that sort.

I have just given two hours to a sketch of Addison's Walk, and carried
it to Aunt Celia at the Mitre. Object, to find out whether they make a
long stay in London (our next point), and, if so, where. It seems they
stop only a night. I said in the course o