One curious circumstance happened lately, which I mention without
drawing an absolute inference.--Being at the studio of a sculptor with
whom I am acquainted, the other day, I saw a remarkable cast of a _left
arm_. On my asking where the model came from, he said it was taken
direct from the arm of a _deformed person_, who had employed one of the
Italian moulders to make the cast. It was a curious case, it should
seem, of one beautiful limb upon a frame otherwise singularly
imperfect.--I have repeatedly noticed this little gentleman's use of his
left arm. Can he have furnished the model I saw at the sculptor's?
----So we are to have a new boarder to-morrow. I hope there will be
something pretty and pleasant about her. A woman with a creamy
voice, and finished in _alto rilievo_, would be a variety in the
boarding-house,--a little more marrow and a little less sinew than our
landlady and her daughter and the bombazine-clad female, all of whom are
of the turkey-drumstick style of organization. I don't mean that these
are our only female companions; but the rest being conversational
non-combatants, mostly still, sad feeders, who take in their food as
locomotives take in wood and water, and then wither away from the table
like blossoms that never come to fruit, I have not yet referred to them
as individuals.
I wonder what kind of a young person we shall see in that empty chair
to-morrow!
----I read this song to the boarders after breakfast the other morning.
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