I have had a lazy month. Mrs. Moulton was delighted to have me back again, and I was glad to rest after all my junketing. Just think, I was almost a year in Germany! Nina has had the measles, fortunately lightly; I was _garde malade_, and stayed with her in her sick-room. Howard goes to a day-school not far from the Rue de Courcelles every morning, and comes home at two o'clock and shows with pride the book the teacher gives him to show. They must mean it to be shown, otherwise so much trouble would not be taken to make such lengthy and marvelous accounts of his prowess, the numbers running up in the thousands, and notations all through, such as _très bien, verbes sans faute_, and _dictés parfaits_. He can repeat all the departments of France backward and forward, and goes through the verbs, regular and irregular, like a machine. The French love these irregular verbs, so irregular sometimes that they border on frivolity. He has learned some rather inane patriotic poetry, which he recites with a childish dramatic swagger. This is about all they teach in this school; but the _rapports_ are worth the money: they deceive the parents, making them believe their geese are swans of the first water. PARIS, _May._ We have had real pleasure in hearing a young _pianiste_ from Venezuela called Teresa Careño. She is a _wunderkind_. Her mother says she is nine years old; she looks twelve, but may be sixteen. No one can ever tell how old a _wunderkind_ really is. Her playing is marvelous, her technic perfect. She knows about two hundred pieces by heart, is extremely pretty and attractive, and performs whenever she is asked. I think she has a great career before her, and she has already got the toss-back of her black hair in the most approved pianist manner. "Elle ne manque rien," the great Saint-Saëns said. One can't imagine that she could play better than she does; but she thinks that she is by no means perfect. Though I said that I had led a _dolce-far-niente_ existence, and had been lazy, I have been dreadfully busy and have been on the go from morning till night: I might call it a _dolce-far-molto_ existence. I spend hours, which ought to be better spent, in shops. I simply revel in them. You have heard of the famous actress Sarah Bernhardt. Well, she is not only an actress, but she is a sculptress, and is a very good one. She is now playing at the Vaudeville. But I must begin at the beginning, the whole thing was so amusing, You remember Mrs. Bradley? You used to scold me for calling her "the Omelette." They are living now in Paris; her hair and complexion are just as yellow as they used to be; but her dresses are yellower. Beaumont said that she was "Une étude en jaune."