You would have to come here to understand the insolence of the servants in most places. We naturally ordered tea (down the telephone) when we arrived, and presently a waiter brought a teapot and two cups and nothing else; and when we remonstrated he picked his teeth and grinned and said, "If you don't ask for what you want you won't get it. You said tea, and you've got tea, you never mentioned sugar and milk." Then he bounced off, and when the lift boy whistled as he brought me up, and the Irish chambermaid began to chat to Octavia, she said she could not bear it any longer, and Tom must go out and find another hotel. So late last night we got here, which is charming; perhaps the attendants are paid extra for manners. But even here they call Octavia "Lady Chevenix" and me "Lady Valmond" every minute--never just "My Lady" like at home, and I am sure they would rather die than say "Your Ladyship!" Mr. Renour had to leave us; we were so sorry, but he got a telegram as we landed, saying the superintendent of his mine had been shot and there was "trouble" out there, so he had to fly off at once. However, we have promised to go and stay with him presently and he is going to show us all the mining camps. To-day we have rested, and quantities of the people one knows in London sent us flowers, and they are the best I have ever seen--roses so enormous they look like peonies, and on colossal stalks--in fact, everything is twice the size of at home. We are going to dine at Sherry's to-night with a party. It is the fashionable restaurant, and I will finish when I come back. 1:30 A.M.