age for a stranger.

Mrs. Procter talked to me a great deal about her little Adelaide,
who must be a most wonderful creature. The profound and
unanswerable questions put to us by these "children of light"
confound us with the sense of our own spiritual and mental
darkness. I often think of Tieck's lovely and deep-meaning story of
"The Elves." How little we know of the hidden mysterious springs
from which these crystal cups are filled, or of the unseen
companions that may have strayed with their fellow to the threshold
of this earth, and walk with it while it yet retains its purity and
innocence; but, as it journeys on, turn back and forsake it, and
return to their home, leaving their sister-soul to wander through
the world with sin and sorrow for companions.

_Wednesday, 7th._--I sent "The Merchant of Venice" to Ramohun Roy,
who, in our conversation last night, expressed a great desire to
read it....

_Thursday, 8th._-- ... In the evening acted Beatrice. The house was
very good, which I was delighted to see. The Harnesses supped with
us. While we were at supper, the _Quarterly Review_ came from
Murray's, and I read the article on "Francis I." aloud to them. It
is very "handsome," and I should think must satisfy my most
unreasonable friends. It more than satisfied me, for it made me out
a great deal cleverer than ever I thought I was, or ever, I am
afraid, shall be.

_Friday, 9th._--Rehearsed "Francis I." When I came home found a
charming letter and some Indian books, from that most amiable of
all the wise men of the East, Ramohun Roy. Mrs. Jameson and Mr.
Harness called.

_Saturday, 10th._--Rehearsed "Francis I." Tried on my dresses for
"The Hunchback;" they will be beautiful. The rehearsal was over
long before the carriage came for me; so I went into my father's
room and read the newspaper, while he and Mr. Bartley discussed the
cast of Knowles's play. It seems my father will not act in it. I am
sorry for that; it is hardly fair to Knowles, for no one else can
do it. My poor father seemed too bewildered to give any answer, or
even heed, to anything, and Mr. Bartley went away. My father
continued to walk up and down the room for nearly half an hour,
without uttering a syllable; and at last flung himself into a
chair, and leaned