When I told my friends that I was going on this mission to Ireland they shook their heads, but said nothing to dissuade me. I think it must have been evident to all who were my friends that my life in London was not a success. My mother and elder brother were at this time abroad, and were not consulted 鈥?did not even know my intention in time to protest against it. Indeed, I consulted no one, except a dear old cousin, our family lawyer, from whom I borrowed 锟?00 to help me out of England. He lent me the money, and looked upon me with pitying eyes 鈥?shaking his head. 鈥淎fter all, you were right to go,鈥?he said to me when I paid him the money a few years afterwards. Isola heard those far-off melodies faint in the distance鈥攈eard without heeding. The notes were beyond measure familiar, interwoven with the very fabric of her life, for those were the airs Martin Disney loved, and she had played them to him nearly every evening in their quiet, monotonous life. She heard, unheeding, for her thoughts had wandered back to the night of the ball at Lostwithiel and all that went after it鈥攖he fatal night that struck the death-knell of peace and innocence. 鈥楪resford, May 26, 1875. 鈥?Undated.)鈥擝eloved Sister, this is the last Sunday of 1891; may 1892 be rich in blessings to you and your loved ones of two generations. 鈥淗e leadeth me,鈥攐h, blessed thought!鈥? This Is Conington鈥檚 translation, but it seems to me to be a little flat. Lostwithiel. 亚洲免费中文不卡高清有码 He got a smile for that, the sort of smile that anybody might have had from her. Having so steeped myself, as it were, in postal waters, I could not go out from them without a regret. I wonder whether I did anything to improve the style of writing in official reports! I strove to do so gallantly, never being contented with the language of my own reports unless it seemed to have been so written as to be pleasant to be read. I took extreme delight in writing them, not allowing myself to re-copy them, never having them re-copied by others, but sending them up with their original blots and erasures 鈥?if blots and erasures there were. It is hardly manly, I think, that a man should search after a fine neatness at the expense of so much waste labour; or that he should not be able to exact from himself the necessity of writing words in the form in which they should be read. If a copy be required, let it be taken afterwards 鈥?by hand or by machine, as may be. But the writer of a letter, if he wish his words to prevail with the reader, should send them out as written by himself, by his own hand, with his own marks, his own punctuation, correct or incorrect, with the evidence upon them that they have come out from his own mind. Well, she is gone鈥攕he is Mrs. Hulbert now, and she belongs to him and not to us any more, said Disney, talking at random, watching his wife's face in nervous apprehension of鈥攈e knew not what. "We shall miss her sadly. Aren't you sorry she is married, Isola, after all?" Well, at least she could try. If her health failed to stand the climate, she could but return home. If she succeeded, she might be the Pioneer of many more, who would perhaps venture to tread in her footsteps.