I do not like talking to these scientific men. They make you feel so infinitesimally small. They go back such a long, long way. They make out that from the Creation (which by the way they do not admit, only considering it another great change in the world springing from natural causes), from the Creation until now, is the space of a moment on the great clock of time, is a mere "parenthesis in eternity." It is not nice to feel such a nonentity. What are our lives, our little lives in comparison? We, who each consider ourselves the one person upon the earth, the hero or heroine in the great drama: all the rest mere by-characters. We do not care to be considered of such little consequence; only puppets appearing on the stage for one moment and taken off the next. We are like the clergyman in the small island off the North of Scotland, who prayed for the inhabitants "of Great Cumbray and Little Cumbray and the neighboring islands of Great Britain and Ireland!" On our small piece of land, we yet consider ourselves the centre of the universe. It is to be hoped if this revolution occurs, after all, that the climate will change likewise. We should require something more besides blue paint in most of our English winters! Perhaps we take too much thought for what we shall put on. They say that nothing but the prevailing and forthcoming fashions fill the feminine mind. It is true sometimes, I daresay, and yet I always agree with our immortal bard in thinking that "Self-love is not so vile a thing as self-neglect." It is decidedly better to think too much than too little. It is a duty to your country and your nation to look your best, no matter who is likely to see you. Of course it can be overdone, _e.g._, the lady who insisted on her bonnet being trimmed on the right because that was the side presented to the congregation! And she, I am afraid, is only a type of many. There is no reason why this should be the rule; yet nearly everyone seems to bring out their new clothes on Sunday, and exhibit them in Church. I suppose it is because they meet so many friends there, and with laudable unselfishness wish them all equally to enjoy the sight. "What's the good of your going to church?" a man said to me once; "you only go to show off your gown and look about to see who has a new bonnet and who has not! Now, when _I_ go," he went on in a superior way, "I don't notice a single thing anyone has on!" "No," I answered quietly, "but you could tell me exactly how many pretty girls were amongst the congregation, and describe their features accurately!" And he not only forbore to deny the accusation, but admitted it with pride! No girl, he assured me, with any pretence to good looks, ever escaped _his_ notice. Which was the worse, I wonder; he or I? At least I did not glory in my misdeeds.