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on a telegram; or perhaps it adds to the value of the information, as smuggled goods are more attractive than others. One of these state secrets is going round our circle just now with a rapidity that leaves the post-office out of sight. It is to the effect that the Klingenders are going to give a large ball shortly, but you mustn’t tell anybody! They live at a distance of ten miles of bad road, on a large station (station, so called from estancia, as in South America), and although we speak of a simple ball, I understand the festivities will last for three days at least. I must tell you all about it when it comes off. At present I don't feel much in the mood for dancing. I am getting older, and the world is out of tune with me sometimes. I am in that hateful transition stage—all the inferiority of youth without the compensations of middle life. Youth wears tight shoes a size too small for it, and trembles at shadows, and believes that the eye of the world is upon it; middle-age sits with his feet on the fender, and reads the newspapers, and finds excuses for not going out on wet nights. Youth is a stormy ball, middle-age a dinner party. On the whole, I am tired of this stage; but courage, we shall soon be over it! I foresee what I shall be in the future: a very nice person, who smiles at the right moment, agrees with everything that