as they are in a woman, and, you know, I don’t think that men are as handsome to-day as they used to be when I was a girl.  They have lost something—­I can’t make out just what it is.

Charley and Jane are at the Prohibition meeting.  It is the first time they have gone anywhere since the accident, but we all felt that Tom and Gertrude would have wanted them to go for the sake of the cause.  I don’t suppose you, would recognize Charley now if you were to meet him.  He is entirely changed, and I believe our new minister is the reason for it, though Jane likes to think that her influence reclaimed him.  But, you remember, neither you nor I ever thought that Jane went about reforming Charley in the right way; and even now, though I wouldn’t hurt dear Jane’s feelings for anything in the world, I am afraid she nags Charley and the children too much.  Of course, she means it for the best.  No one could look at the dear child without realizing what a beautiful character she is.

But the change in Charley is really remarkable, and he won’t allow a drop of alcohol to come into the house—­not even as medicine.  I can’t help feeling sorry for poor old Uncle Meriweather, who despises grape juice and misses his mint julep when he comes to dine on Sunday; but Charley forbids Jane to make him a julep; and I suppose he is right since he says it is a matter of principle.  Even Jane, however, thinks dear Charley is going a little too far when he refuses to let me have the sherry and egg the doctor ordered.  However, I tell Jane that, since Charley feels so strongly about my taking it, she must not try to persuade him against his convictions.  Dr. Darrow doesn’t know that I stopped the sherry when Charley found out I was buying it.  Perhaps the plain eggs will do me quite as much good.  Anyhow, I wouldn’t let my health stand in the way of Charley’s salvation.

Margaret has gone out to a concert, and you would never guess who came to take her.  I said to her when she was starting, “Well, I’m going to sit straight down and write your Aunt Gabriella that you’ve gone out with her old sweetheart.”  But doesn’t it make you realize how time flies when you think of Arthur Peyton’s paying attention to Jane’s daughter?  Of course, it isn’t anything serious—­everybody knows that he has never recovered from his feeling for you—­but last winter he took Margaret to two germans and to any number of plays.  I believe Jane would be really pleased if he were to take a fancy to Margaret, but I don’t think there is the faintest chance of it, for his Cousin Lizzie told me last winter that she couldn’t mention your name in his presence.  She says his faithfulness is perfectly beautiful, and she ought to know for she has lived with him ever since his mother’s death.  Of course, he has never accomplished very much in his profession.  Chancy says all the men downtown look upon him as a failure; but, then, he is such a perfect gentleman, and, as