Up to dinner yesterday I did not expect to come to Canton. From the first there had always been between her and her listeners that electrical sympathy which only a certain order of genius seems able to create. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. But they were too late. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. I promise not to do it again. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew.
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