And now to thank you, my ever-dearest Mrs. Martin, for your kind and welcome letter from the Lakes.  I knew quite at the first page, and long before you said a word specifically, that dear Mr. Martin was better, and think that such a scene, even from under an umbrella, must have done good to the soul and body of both of you.  I wish I could have looked through your eyes for once.  But I suppose that neither through yours, nor through my own, am I ever likely to behold that sight.  In the meantime it is with considerable satisfaction that I hear of your failure of Wordsworth, which was my salvation in a very awful sense.  Why, if you had done such a thing, you would have put me to the shame of too much honor.  The speculation consoles me entirely for your loss in respect to Rydal Hall and its poet.  By the way, I heard the other day that Rogers, who was intending to visit him, said, ’It is a bad time of year for it.  The god is on his pedestal; and can only give gestures to his worshippers, and no conversation to his friends.’ ...

Although you did not find a letter from me on your return to Colwall, I do hope that you found me—­viz. my book, which Mr. Burden took charge of, and promised to deliver or see delivered.  When you have read it, do let me hear your own and Mr. Martin’s true impression; and whether you think it worse or better than ‘The Seraphim.’  The only review which has yet appeared or had time to appear has been a very kind and cordial one in the ‘Athenaeum.’ ...

Your ever affectionate
BA.

To Mr. Westwood August 31, 1844.

My dear Mr. Westwood,—­I send you the manuscript you ask for, and also my certificate that, although I certainly was once a little girl, yet I never in my life had fair hair, or received lessons when you mention.  I think a cousin of mine, now dead, may have done it.  The ‘Barrett Barrett’ seems to specify my family.  I have a little cousin with bright fair hair at this moment who is an Elizabeth Barrett (the subject of my ’Portrait’[108]), but then she is a ‘Georgiana’ besides, and your friend must refer to times past.  My hair is very dark indeed, and always was, as long as I remember, and also I have a friend who makes serious affidavit that I have never changed (except by being rather taller) since I was a year old.  Altogether, you cannot make a case of identity out, and I am forced to give up the glory of being so long remembered for my cleverness.

You do wrong in supposing me inclined to underrate Mr. Melville’s power.  He is inclined to High-Churchism, and to such doctrines as apostolical succession, and I, who, am a Dissenter, and a believer in a universal Christianity, recoil from the exclusive doctrine.

But then, that is not depreciatory of his power and eloquence—­surely not.

E.B.

[Footnote 108:  Poetical Works, iii. 172.]

To Mr. Chorley 50 Wimpole Street:  Monday. [About the end of August 1844.]