Speaking of wax reminds me of Monsieur N----, who gave us, I am inclined to think, our first French lessons, besides those we received from our mother. He was a very French Frenchman, with blond mustache and imperial waxed à la Louis Napoleon, and a military carriage. He had been a soldier, and taught fencing as well as French, though not to us. This unhappy gentleman had married a Smyrniote woman, out of gratitude to her family, who had rescued him from some pressing danger. Apparently he did them a great service by marrying the young woman and taking her away, for she had a violent temper,--was, in short, a perfect vixen. The evils of this were perhaps lessened by the fact that she could not speak French, while her husband had no knowledge of her native Greek. It is the simple truth that this singular couple in their disputes, which unfortunately were many, used often to come and ask our father to act as interpreter between them. Monsieur N---- himself was a kind man, and a very good teacher. There is a tale told of a christening feast which he gave in honor of Candide, his eldest child. Julia and Flossy were invited, and also the governess of the time, whoever she was. The company went in two hacks to the priest’s house, where the ceremony was to be performed; on the way the rival hackmen fell out, and jeered at each other, and, whipping up their lean horses, made frantic efforts each to obtain the front rank in the small cortége. Whereupon Monsieur N----, very angry at this infringement of the dignity of the occasion, thrust his head out of the window and shrieked to his hackman:-- “Firts or sekind, vich you bleece!” which delighted the children more than any other part of the entertainment. There was poor Miss R----, whom I recall with mingled dislike and compassion. She must have been very young, and she had about as much idea of managing children (we required a great deal of managing) as a tree might have. Her one idea of discipline was to give us “misdemeanors,” which in ordinary speech were “black marks.” What is it I hear her say in the monotonous sing-song voice which always exasperated us?--“Doctor, Laura has had fourteen misdemeanors!” Then Laura was put to bed, no doubt very properly; but she has always felt that she need not have had the “misdemeanors” if the teaching had been a little different. Miss R---- it was who took away the glass eye-cup; therefore I am aware that I cannot think of her with clear and unprejudiced mind. But she must have had bitter times with us, poor thing! I can distinctly remember Flossy urging Harry, with fiery zeal, not to recite his geography lesson,--I cannot imagine why.