We took the girl to the Opera, when quite a little one--that high:--and I declare to you, it was marvellous! Next morning after breakfast, she plants herself in the middle of the room, and strikes her attitude for song, and positively, almost with the Sanfredini's voice--illusion of it, you know,--trills us out more than I could have believed credible to be recollected by a child.

But I've told you the story.

We called her Fredi from that day.

I sent the diva, with excuses and compliments, a nuptial present-necklace, Roman goldwork, locket-pendant, containing sunny curl, and below a fine pearl; really pretty; telling her our grounds for the liberty.

She replied, accepting the responsible office; touching letter--we found it so; framed in Fredi's room, under her godmother's photograph.