e　this　mysterious　political　flower；　and　has　made　me　promise　to　telegraph　when　it　appears；　and　she　will　come　over。　Bur　they　are　not　going　to　do　anything　this　year；　and　I　only　hope　those　cold　days　did　not　send　them　off　to　the　Paradise　of　flowers。　I　am　afraid　their　first　impression　of　Germany　was　a　chilly　one。
  Irais　writes　about　once　a　week；　and　inquires　after　the　garden　and　the　babies；　and　announces　her　intention　of　coming　back　as　soon　as　the　numerous　relations　staying　with　her　have　left；〃which　they　won't　do；〃　she　wrote　the　other　day；　〃until　the　first　frosts　nip　them　off；　when　they　will　disappear　like　belated　dahliasdouble　ones　of　course；　for　single　dahlias　are　too　charming　to　be　compared　to　relations。　I　have　every　sort　of　cousin　and　uncle　and　aunt　here；　and　here　they　have　been　ever　since　my　husband's　birthdaynot　the　same　ones　exactly；　but　I　get　so　confused　that　I　never　know　where　one　ends　and　the　other　begins。　My　husband　goes　off　after　breakfast　to　look　at　his　crops；　he　says；　and　I　am　left　at　their　mercy。　　I　wish　I　had　crops　to　go　and　look　at　I　should　be　grateful　even　for　one；　and　would　look　at　it　from　morning　till　night；　and　quite　stare　it　out　of　countenance；　sooner　than　stay　at　home　and　have　the　truth　told　me　by　enigmatic　aunts。　　Do　you　know　my　Aunt　Bertha？　she；　in　particular；　spends　her　time　propounding　obscure　questions　for　my　solution。　　I　get　so　tired　and　worried　trying　to　guess　the　answers；　which　are　always　truths　supposed　to　be　good　for　me　to　hear。　'Why　do　you　wear　your　hair　on　your　forehead？'　she　asks；and　that　sets　me　off　wondering　why　I　do　wear　it　on　my　forehead；　and　what　she　wants　to　know　for；　or　whether　she　does　know　and　only　wants　to　know　if　I　will　answer　truthfully。　'I　am　sure　I　don't　know；　aunt；'　I　say　meekly；　after　puzzling　over　it　for　ever　so　long；　'perhaps　my　maid　knows。　　Shall　I　ring　and　ask　her？'　And　then　she　informs　me　that　I　wear　it　so　to　hide　an　ugly　line　she　says　I　have　down　the　middle　of　my　forehead；　and　that　betokens　a　listless　and　discontented　disposition。　　Well；　if　she　knew；　what　did　she　ask　me　for？　Whenever　I　am　with　them　they　ask　me　riddles　like　that；　and　I　simply　lead　a　dog's　life。　　Oh；　my　dear；　relations　are　like　drugs；useful　sometimes；　and　even　pleasant；　if　taken　in　small　quantities　and　seldom；　but　dreadfully　pernicious　on　the　whole；　and　the　truly　wise　avoid　them。〃
  From　Minora　I　have　only　had　one　communication　since　her　departure；　in　which　she　thanked　me　for　her　pleasant　visit；　and　said　she　was　sending　me　a　bottle　of　English　embrocation　to　rub　on　my　bruises　after　skating；　that　it　was　wonderful　stuff；　and　she　was　sure　I　would　like　it；　and　that　it　cost　two　marks；　and　would　I　send　stamps。　　I　pondered　long　over　this。　Was　it　a　parting　hit；　intended　as　revenge　for　our　having　laughed　at　her？　Was　she　personally　interested　in　the　sale　of　embrocation？　　Or　was　it　merely　Minora's　idea　of　a　graceful　return　for　my　hospitality？　　As　for　bruises；　nobody　who　skates　decently　regards　it　as　a　bruise…producing　exercise；　and　whenever　there　were　any　they　were　all　on　Minora；　but　she　did　happen　to　turn　round　once；　I　remember；　just　as　I　was　in　the　act　of　tumbling　down　for　the　first　and　only　time；　and　her　delight　was　but　thinly　veiled　by　her　excessive　solicitude　and　sympathy。　　I　sent　her　the　stamps；　received　the　bottle；　and　resolved　to　let　her　drop　out　of　my　life；　I　had　been　a　good　Samaritan　to　her　at　the　request　of　my　friend；　but　the　best　of　Samaritans　resents　the　offer　of　healing　oil　for　his　own　use。　　　But　why　waste　a　thought　on　Minora　at　Easter；　the　real　beginning　of　the　year　in　defiance　of　calendars。　She　belongs　to　the　winter　that　is　past；　to　the　darkness　that　is　over；　and　has　no　part　or　lot　in　the　life　I　shall　lead　for　the　next　six　months。　　Oh；　I　could　dance　and　sing　for　joy　that　the　spring　is　here！　　What　a　resurrection　of　beauty　there　is　in　my　garden；　and　of　brightest　hope　in　my　heart！　The　whole　of　this　radiant　Easter　day　I　have　spent　out　of　doors；　sitting　at　first　among　the　windflowers　and　celandines；　and　then；　later；　walking　with　the　babies　to　the　Hirschwald；　to　see　what　the　spring　had　been　doing　there；　and　the　afternoon　was　so　hot　that　we　lay　a　long　time　on　the　turf；　blinking　up　through　the　leafless　branches　of　the　silver　birches　at　the　soft；　fat　little　white　clouds　floating　motionless　in　the　blue。　We　had　tea　on　the　grass　in　the　sun；　and　when　it　began　to　grow　late；　and　the　babies　were　in　bed；　and　all　the　little　wind…flowers　folded　up　for　the　night；　I　still　wandered　in　the　green　paths；　my　heart　full　of　happiest　gratitude。　　It　makes　one　very　humble　to　see　oneself　surrounded　by　such　a　wealth　of　beauty　and　perfection　anonymously　lavished；　and　to　think　of　the　infinite　meanness　of　our　own　grudging　charities；　and　how　displeased　we　are　if　they　are　not　promptly　and　properly　appreciated。　I　do　sincerely　trust　that　the　benediction　that　is　always　awaiting　me　in　my　garden　may　by　degrees　be　more　deserved；　and　that　I　may　grow　in　grace；　and　patience；　and　cheerfulness；　just　like　the　happy　flowers　I　so　much　love。
  End