“Oh! how do you do, Mrs. Mackenzie? I hope your little children are well, and the Doctor; so glad to see you are quite recovered from the influenza I heard you had,” and then, with a gracious smile, she drew me on, and we had to run back up the stairs to be in time for our train. Such manners as these are the only true and beautiful ones, Caroline, because they spring from a kind and tender heart. Your affectionate Godmother, E. G. III JANUARY, 1913. I had meant, my dear Caroline, to write to you upon the interesting subject of marriage in this letter, but before I can commence upon that, I must speak of something else, and you must promise me not to be offended at what I am going to say, since we both desire the same end--your success and welfare. The fact is, your picture, which you tell me was drawn by a friend, has just reached me. You say it is more like you than the only photograph I possess of you, taken when you were fifteen; and it is because of your assuring me of this that I cannot remain silent--for, Caroline child, I must confess it shocks and disconcerts me, and makes me feel that I must be very frank with you, if you are ever going to be able to attain that position which we both hope that you may. Even if the drawing was perhaps done some months ago, and you have altered your style of hair-dressing since then--still, that you were ever able to have looked like that--you in Paris!--proves that your observation and taste are not yet sufficiently cultivated to make you anything of a success when you come out in May. Thus I must speak plainly and at once. Now, let us pretend that the little girl I see before me is not you at all, but some abstract person; and let us dissect her bit by bit: her type, her style, her suitability--or want of it--her attitude and the general effect she produces. And then let me suggest the remedies and alterations which can improve her.