Thursday, June 30th.—­Papa, with J. and M., came late last night, and we all made as great a time as if the Great Mogul had come.  They give a most terrific account of the heat in the city.  You ask how Stepping Heavenward is selling.  So far 14,000.  Nidworth has been a complete failure, though the publishers write me that it is a “gem.” [10]

Monday, July 4th.—­M. is so absorbed in the study of Vick’s floral catalogue that she speaks of seeing such a thing in the Bible or Dictionary, when she means that she saw it in Vick.  I did the same thing last night.  She and I get down on our knees and look solemnly at the bare ground and point out up-springing weeds as better than nothing.  I had a long call this morning from Mrs. F. Field, of East Dorset.  They had a dear little bright-eyed baby baptized yesterday, which sat through all the morning service and behaved even better than I did, for it had no wandering thoughts.  Mrs. F. said some friends of hers in Brooklyn received letters from France and from Japan simultaneously, urging them to read Stepping Heavenward, which was the first they heard of it.  We have celebrated the glorious Fourth by making and eating ice-cream.  Papa brought a new-fashioned freezer, that professed to freeze in two minutes.  We screwed it to the wood-house floor—­or rather H. did—­put in the cream, and the whole family stood and watched papa while he turned the handle.  At the end of two minutes we unscrewed the cover and gazed inside, but there were no signs of freezing, and to make a long story short, instead of writing a book as I said I should, there we all were from half-past twelve to nearly two o’clock, when we decided to have dinner and leave the servants to finish it.  It came on to the table at last, was very rich and rather good.  The boys spent the afternoon in the woods firing off crackers.  M. went visiting and papa took me to drive, it being a delightful afternoon.  The boys have a few Roman candles which they are going to send off as soon as it gets dark enough.

July 13th.—­This is a real Dorset day, after a most refreshing rain, and M. and I have kept out of doors the whole morning, gardening and in the woods.  Dr. and Mrs. Humphrey came down and spent last evening.  She is bright and wide awake, and admired everything from the scenery out of doors to the matting and chintzes within.  I told her there was nothing in the house to be compared with those who lived in it.  Here comes a woman with four quarts of black raspberries and a fuss to make change.  Papa and the boys are getting in the last hay with Albert.  M. has just brought in your letter.  We are glad you have seen those remarkable scenes [at Ober-Ammergau].One would fancy it would become an old story.  I should not like to see the crucifixion; it must be enough to turn one’s hair white in a single night.