and drawing the strong men as well as the weak women by his earnest
persuasion; and after service he smiles upon me kindly, and says,
"This is my wife, and the wife, who looks like the Madonna in that
picture of Andrea Del Sarto's, which you liked so at the gallery,
leads us to a little house buried in roses, looking upon a broad and
lovely landscape," and Henry whispers to me as a beautiful boy bounds
into the room, "Mrs. Potiphar, I am very happy."

I doze again until Adele comes in and opens the shutters. I do not
hear the music any more; but those days I do somehow seem to hear it
all the time. Of course, Mr. P. is gone long before I wake, so he
knows nothing about all this. I generally come in at night after he is
asleep, and he is up and has his breakfast, and goes down town before
I wake in the morning. He comes home to dinner, but he is apt to be
silent; and after dinner he takes his nap in the parlor over his
newspaper, while I go up and let Adele dress my hair for the
evening. Sometimes Mr. P. groans into a clean shirt and goes with me
to the ball; but not often. When I come home, as I said, he is asleep,
so I don't see a great deal of him, except in the summer, when I am at
Saratoga or Newport; and then, not so much, after all, for he usually
only passes Sunday, and I must be a good Christian, you know, and go
to church. On the whole, we have not a very intimate acquaintance; but
I have a great respect for him. He told me the other day that he
should make at least thirty thousand dollars this year.

My darling Carrie--I am very sorry I can't write you a longer
letter. I want to consult you about wearing gold powder like the new
Empress. It would kill Mrs. Croesus if you and I should be the first
to come out in it; and don't you think the effect would be fine, when
we were dancing, to shower the gold mist around us! How it would