“I want you sometimes, if only to look at! “Where are we to go at Easter? I was thinking of Hastings. Let me know. “Your very loving old “ARNIE.” It is not necessary to say that no change really took place in Miss Buss’ endeavours to respond to even the most unreasonable of demands. When she met me at Ben Rhydding soon afterwards, she was just as sweet and bright as ever, and her nerves rapidly recovered tone again. This power of recuperation after even the severest strain was always remarkable, even to the very last. We had a striking proof of it in the spring of 1893, when Miss Buss joined my sister and me at Bordighera. We had tried to get her to take the complete rest of a whole winter abroad after her illness in the autumn before, holding out the attractions of Florence, Siena, and the Italian lakes. Every one wanted her to give up work for a time, and take the chance of real recovery. Our efforts were all wasted, and all she would do was to come, with her cousin, Miss Mary Buss, and a friend, late in the spring, stopping at various points in the Riviera on the way. She was far from well on her arrival, but a drive to San Remo in an open carriage on a windy day gave her a chill, followed by the inevitable attack of influenza. There was also a passing giddiness which gave us anxiety. She was certainly very ill for five days, with a threatening of pneumonia. But, thanks to her power of sleeping day and night, the attack passed off as rapidly as it had come on, when nothing we could say could persuade her that there had been ground for alarm; an opinion she maintained in the face of the most authoritative medical support of our view. On the Sunday she had certainly been very ill, but on Tuesday she would have been downstairs if we had not made too strong a protest. On Thursday, however, she insisted on starting for England, and accomplished the journey to London without a break, and apparently with no ill consequences.