so bad for him." 

 Palestrina smiled, and said she was afraid it was very dull for me sometimes. 

 "But if one is impatient enough, one can't be dull," said Mrs. Fielden. "It's like being cross——" 

 "I am constitutionally dull," I said.  "I used to be known as the dullest man in my regiment." 

 "You studied philosophy, didn't you?" said Mrs. Fielden.  "That must be so depressing." 

 I was much struck by this suggestion.  "I dare say you are quite right," I said, "although I had not seen it in that light before. But I'm afraid it has not made me very patient, nor given me a great mind." 

 "Of course, what you want just now," said Mrs. Fielden gravely, "is a little mind. You must lie here on your sofa, and take a vivid interest in what all the old ladies say when they come to call on Palestrina. And you must know the price of Mrs. Taylor's last new hat, and how much the Traceys spend on their washing-bill, and you must put it all down in your diary. I'll come over and help you sometimes, and write all the wicked bits for you, only I'm afraid no one ever is wicked down here. 

 "Good-bye," she said, holding out the smallest, prettiest, most useless-looking little hand in the world.  "And please," she added earnestly, "get all this oak painted white, and hang some nice muslin curtains in the windows." 

 Kindly folk in Stowel are always ingenuously surprised at any one's caring to live in the country; and although it is but a mile from here to the vestry hall, and much less by the fields, they often question us whether we do not feel lonely at night-time, and they are of the opinion that we should be better in "town."  They frequently speak of going into the country for change of air, or on Bank Holidays; but considering that the last house in the village—and, like the City of Zoar, it is but a little one—is built amongst fields, it might be imagined that these rural retreats could readily be found without the trouble of hiring the four-wheeled dog-cart from the inn, or of taking a journey by train. Yet an expedition into the country is often talked of as being a change, and friends and relations living outside the town are considered a little bit behindhand in their views of things—"old-feshioned" they call it in Stowel—and these country cousins are visited with just a touch of kindly condescension by 

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