before I could speak. "She has sung, Monsieur, since she was a very small
child."

He was not at all impressed by this, but said, "I thought so." Then he
continued. "You say you would like to take some lessons of me?" I was
becoming very humble, and said, meekly, that I hoped he would give me
some. "Well, Mademoiselle, you have a very wonderful voice, but you have
not the remotest idea how to sing." What a come-down! I, who thought I had
only to open my mouth to be admired, and only needed a _few_ finishing
touches to make me perfect, to be told that I had "not the remotest idea
how to sing"!

Mama and I both gasped for breath, and I could have cried for
disappointment as well as mortification. However, I felt he was right,
and, strange to say, mama felt so too. He said, "Take six months' rest and
don't sing a single note, then come back to me." When he saw the
crestfallen look on my face, he added, kindly, "Then we shall see
something wonderful."

We leave for Dresden this evening.... Love to all.

Your humble

LILLIE.


LONDON, _May, 1860._

DEAR A.,--I have not written since we left the kind V. Rensselaers in
Dresden. Mama must have given you all the details of our life there.... I