it from eight to eight-thirty; no haste, no waste. Never before
have I seen such heavenly harmony between supply and demand. Never
before have I been in such visible and unbroken connection with the
source of my food. If I should ever desire two eggs, or if the fowl
should turn sulky or indolent, I suppose Mrs. Bobby would have to go
half a mile to the nearest shop, but as yet everything has worked to
a charm. The cow is milked into my pitcher in the morning, and the
fowl lays her egg almost literally in my egg-cup. One of the little
Bobbies pulls a kidney bean or a tomato or digs a potato for my
dinner, about half an hour before it is served. There is a sheep in
the garden, but I hardly think it supplies the chops; those, at
least, are not raised on the premises.

One grievance I did have at first, but Mrs. Bobby removed the thorn
from the princess' pillow as soon as it was mentioned. Our next-
door neighbour had a kennel of homesick, discontented, and sleepless
puppies of various breeds, that were in the habit of howling all
night until Mrs. Bobby expostulated with Mrs. Gooch in my behalf.
She told me that she found Mrs. Gooch very snorty, very snorty
indeed, because the pups were an 'obby of her 'usbants; whereupon
Mrs. Bobby responded that if Mrs. Gooch's 'usbant 'ad to 'ave an
'obby, it was a shame it 'ad to be 'owling pups to keep h'innocent
people awake o' nights. The puppies were removed, but I almost felt
guilty at finding fault with a dog in this country. It is a matter
of constant surprise to me, and it always give me a warm glow in the
region of the heart, to see the supremacy of the dog in England. He
is respected, admired, loved, and considered, as he deserves to be
everywhere, but as he frequently is not. He is admitted on all
excursions; he is taken into the country for his health; he is a
factor in all the master' plans; in short, the English dog is a