[Specimen of Alfred's comments. N.B. Fraternal criticism:
A. Nolo Episcopari.
B. It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.
D. The old trick; picking one text, straining it; and ignoring six. So then nobody who is not born married, must get married.
E. Recipe. To know people's real estimate of themselves, study their language of self-depreciation. If, even when they undertake to lower themselves, they cannot help insinuating self-praise, be sure their humility is a puddle, their vanity is a well. This sentence is typical of the whole Diary or rather Iary; it sounds Publican, smells Pharisee.
X. How potent a thing is language in the hand of a master: Here is sudden death made humorous by a few incongruous phrases neatly disposed.
F. Excuse me; there is still a little market for the Liquefaction of Holy Writ, and the perversion of Holy Writ; two deathless arts, which meet in your comment on the song you ascribe to Solomon.
Z. More than Mrs. Plummer does, apparently.
G. Apotheosis of the British public. How very like profaneness some people's piety is!
C. H. Faith, with this school, means anything the opposite of Charity.
I. You are morally truthful: but intellectually mendacious. The texts on Solomon's Song! You know very well there is not one. No grave writer in all Scripture has ever deigned to cite, or notice, that coarse composition; puellarum deliciae.
J. Modest periphrasis for "I like it." Motto for this Diary; "Ego, et Deus meus."
K. In other words, a good, old-fashioned, sober, humble Christian, to whom the daring familiarities of your school seem blasphemies.
M. Here I recognise my sister; somewhat spoiled by a detestable sect; but lovable by nature (which she is for ever abusing); and therefore always amiable, when off her guard.]