The particular part which I have chosen for a model--I think the most admirable piece of editing I know--is from that week of the diary which concerns the outbreak of the recent difficulty with France, a difficulty luckily immediately arranged, after scarcely a shot had been fired, by the mutual assent of the two nations and (as it is whispered) by the direct intervention of High Authority. The motto which Dr. Caliban chose for the whole series (called, by the way, “Leaves from a Country Diary”), is a fine sentence from the works of Mr. Bagehot. LEAVES FROM A COUNTRY DIARY. “_An aristocratic body firmly rooted in the national soil is not only the permanent guarantee of the security of the State, but resembles, as it were, a man better instructed than his fellows--more prompt, possessed of ample means, and yet entrusted with power: a man moreover who never dies._” _February 2nd,_ 19--.--To-day is the Purification. The lawn looked lovely under its veil of snow, and the vicar came in to lunch. We did not discuss the question of the service, because I know that Reuben disapproves of it. The vicar told me that Mrs. Burpham is in dreadful trouble. It seems that the Bank at Molesworth refused to cash Algernon’s cheque, and that this led Sir Henry Murling to make investigations about the Chattington affair, so that he had to be asked to resign his commission. To be sure it is only in the Militia, but if it all comes out, it will be terrible for the Monsons. They have already had to dismiss two servants on these grounds. Jane has a sore throat, and I made her gargle some turpentine and oil; Ali Baba’s[13] hock is still sore. I do hope I shall keep my old servants, it is an unwelcome thing to dismiss them in their old age and the house is never the same again. They meet to-morrow at Gumpton corner, but not if this weather holds. _February 3rd,_ 19--.--It is thawing. There are marks of boots across the lawn on what is left of the snow, and I am afraid some one must have gone across it. I wish Reuben would come back. Called at Mrs. Burpham’s, who is in dreadful trouble. Algernon has gone up to town to see his solicitor. Poor Mrs. Burpham was crying; she is so proud of her boy. He says it will be all right. They are very bitter against the Bank, and Sir Henry, and the regiment, and the Monsons. I fear they may quarrel with Binston Park[14] also. Mrs. Burpham was so curious about them; Jane is no better.