He followed Allegra into the drawing-room鈥攁 room full of light and sunshine, which had been beautified and made home-like by the addition of a few Japaneseries and a little old Italian furniture which Martin Disney had picked up at a bric-脿-brac shop in the Via Vittorio Emanuelo. There were flowers everywhere, in the bright Italian pottery, so artless, so cheap, so gay, in its varieties of form and colouring. To Hulbert's fancy it was the prettiest room he had seen for an age. Col. You shall be treated, Sir, with all the respect due to your station, consistent with your safe custody. From varying Modes, which oft our Minds inslave, Wrig. [Aside.] I really cannot stand this any longer. [Follows her.] 鈥極ct. 30.鈥擬any many thanks, mine own sweet Sister, for yours of the 8th, and all your loving thought for Char.鈥檚 comfort. You would keep the bird in a golden cage, lined with soft fur! But Char. is a bit of a wild bird, and likes to fly about freely. The fur will be delicious on cold mornings and evenings; but to wear it all day, even in December, would feel exhaustingly warm. One needs to adapt oneself perpetually to the changes of temperature in December and January; this needs a little Indian experience and common-sense. The want of these two things is one cause of Indian break-downs. Inexperienced Missionaries think it safe to do in India what they have done in old England! If you consider, love, that I have kept my health, with some few interruptions, for almost sixteen years in India, you may allow that I am a fair manager of it. I am thought rather a wonder. TO MRS. HAMILTON. I think it was in the autumn of 1831 that my mother, with the rest of the family, returned from America. She lived at first at the farmhouse, but it was only for a short time. She came back with a book written about the United States, and the immediate pecuniary success which that work obtained enabled her to take us all back to the house at Harrow 鈥?not to the first house, which would still have been beyond her means, but to that which has since been called Orley Farm, and which was an Eden as compared to our abode at Harrow Weald. Here my schooling went on under somewhat improved circumstances. The three miles became half a mile, and probably some salutary changes were made in my wardrobe. My mother and my sisters, too, were there. And a great element of happiness was added to us all in the affectionate and life-enduring friendship of the family of our close neighbour Colonel Grant. But I was never able to overcome 鈥?or even to attempt to overcome 鈥?the absolute isolation of my school position. Of the cricket-ground or racket-court I was allowed to know nothing. And yet I longed for these things with an exceeding longing. I coveted popularity with a covetousness that was almost mean. It seemed to me that there would be an Elysium in the intimacy of those very boys whom I was bound to hate because they hated me. Something of the disgrace of my school-days has clung to me all through life. Not that I have ever shunned to speak of them as openly as I am writing now, but that when I have been claimed as schoolfellow by some of those many hundreds who were with me either at Harrow or at Winchester, I have felt that I had no right to talk of things from most of which I was kept in estrangement. He paused a moment.