226 NOVEMBER 



" Writen on Sunday. 



" Good peeple always go to church, 

 Good peepul never nead the birch, 

 But leeve the wicked in the lerch, 



Alleluia." 



These verses inscribed on my Doll* s-house 

 recall an incident of its purchase. I asked Petunia 

 to order it for me from our local bookseller, who is 

 an entirely omniscient person where books are 

 concerned, or at any rate so he thinks. I have 

 never yet known him acknowledge ignorance of 

 any book or its author. Petunia walked into his 

 shop and demanded a copy of Ibsen's Doll's-hoitse. 

 Mr. Moulton knew the book well, but did not stock 

 it. " I suppose you can get it," said Petunia. " I 

 will get it with pleasure," said Mr. Moulton. "It is 

 in the Juvenile Series, as of course you know." 



Nov. 15. Petunia is one of those persons who go 

 in for periodical hobbies. She talks of " taking up " 

 this or the other, an expression quite detestable, 

 because it seems to forebode laying it down again 

 when the inevitable day of boredom comes. But one 

 of Petunia's hobbies has been pursued for so many 

 years that I have hopes that she will be for ever 

 faithful to so old a love. She is a field naturalist, 

 and I would rather go for a walk with her than with 

 any other person I know. Her eyes are every- 

 where ; nothing escapes them ; and I can learn 

 more from her in half an hour by a roadside than 

 from a dozen of the best printed authorities in any 

 period of time which it may take to peruse them. 

 So, to-day, when she turned up at luncheon-time 

 and informed me that she intended to spend the 



