Under such circumstances, it is hard if "the unregarded river of our life," as Matthew Arnold so finely call it be not perceived, for one then "-- -- Becomes aware of his life's flow And bears its winding murmur, and he sees The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze; And there arrives a lull in the hot race, Wherein he doth for ever chase That flying and elusive shadow, rest." One good effect of my sufferings with a house full of unruly volunteers, was that during the brief stay (only two months), of my next cook, I set to work assiduously to learn as many kitchen mysteries as she could teach me, and so became independent of Captain George or F----, or any other amateur, good, bad, or indifferent.
Nothing could be more extraordinary than the way in which the two affectionate sisters, mentioned [earlier] and who succeeded Euphemia and Lois, quarrelled.

They were very unlike each other in appearance, and one fruitful source of bickering arose from their respective styles of beauty.

Not only did they wrangle and rave at each other all the day long, during every moment of their spare time, but after they had gone to bed, we could hear them quite plainly calling out to each other from their different rooms.

If I begged them to be quiet, there might be silence for a moment, but it would shortly be broken by Maria, calling out, "I say, Dinah, don't you go for to wear green, my girl.

I only tell you friendly, but you're a deal too yellow for that.