I passed by an undertaker’s. It was cold like a grave. The sight stunned me. 30th—Is my nose high enough? I bought a pair of “nose spectacles.” Those with wires to circle the ears, which are Oriental (that is to say old-fashioned), would suit even a noseless Formosa Chinee. But how many Japs could show themselves ready for nose spectacles? The Optician asked if they were for myself. He was a trifle uncertain about my nose, I suppose. “No! For my friend,” I said. It was a white lie. I blushed as if I had committed a heavy crime. I hoped I had not. I put my new spectacles on my nose, as soon as I returned to my room. Very well they stayed. Mother Nature was specially kind to me. But what a depression—also what torture—I felt from their clutch! I was pleased, however, seeing myself somewhat scholarly. Aren’t spectacles an emblem of wisdom? The first requirement to be a critic should be spectacles. The second is a pessimistic smile, of course. My mirror told me that I looked quite modern. “Book!” I exclaimed. I must see what effect I could produce with a book on my lap. I leaped from the chair to fetch one. My spectacles dropped from my honourable nose on to the hearthstone. My nose was exceedingly stupid. Alas, and alas! The spectacles were crushed to pieces. I was broken also. I buried my face in the pillow for some time. Then I said: “I’m not short in my sight. I have no use for them except for fun.” I wiped my disturbed eyes with a handkerchief. My finger felt the rude marks printed on both sides of my nose. Dec. 1st—I bought a Louisiana lottery ticket through Annie. Like any other domestic girl, she has no key to her mouth. She is like a sentence that has forgotten to add the period. I begged all sorts of gods to drop the capital prize on me. Thirty thousand dollars! Think! How shall I manage with them when I have won? 2nd—If I were a painter! My eyes were fixed upon the dying sun. Its solemnity was like the passing of a mighty king. Some time glided by. My thought was pursuing the sun. The twilight! Oh, twilight pacifying me as with the odour from a magical palace! Hush! The melody of a piano effused from my neighbour. The best thing in the world is to play music. The very best is to listen to the profuse melody evoked by a master. Was it a superb execution? My soul was dissolved, anyhow, in the rapture. I left my uncle’s room where I saw the grand sun pass away. I put me in my bed, because my visionary mood was not to be stirred for the world, and because I wished to dream a romance without the delay of a moment. But I could not slumber. And I missed my dinner. I petitioned my uncle to step out into the street for my beloved chestnuts. Dear Italian chestnut vendor! I never pass by without buying. 3rd—We start to-morrow for Los Angeles of Southern California. Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler have invited us to spend some weeks with them.