The directors have kindly offered us three places for the opening, which is a great favor, for people are bidding almost anything for a place, I understand; but I fear we shall be obliged to decline them, as my father is most anxious to take Henry over to Heidelberg before our season of work in London begins, which will take place on the first of October.  I think there is every probability of our having a very prosperous season.  London will be particularly gay this winter, and the king and queen, it is said, are fond of dramatic entertainments, so that I hope we shall get on well.  You will be glad to hear that our houses here have been very fine, and that to-night, Friday, which was my benefit, the theater was crowded in every corner.  We do not play here any more, but on Monday we open at Manchester.  You will, I know, be happy to hear that, by way of answer to the letter I told you I had written my mother, I received a very delightful one from my dear little sister, the first I have had from her since I left London.  She is a little jewel, and it will be a sin if she is marred in the cutting and polishing, or if she is set in tawdry French pinchbeck, instead of fine, strong, sterling gold.  I am sorry to say that the lady Mrs. Jameson recommended as her governess has not been thought sufficiently accomplished to undertake the charge.  I regret this the more, as in a letter I have just received from Mrs. Jameson she speaks with more detail of this lady’s qualifications, which seem to me peculiarly adapted to have a good effect upon such a mind and character as A——­’s.

I wish I had been with your girls at their ball, and come back from it and found you holding communion with the skies.  My dearest H——­, sublime and sweet and holy as are the feelings with which I look up to the star-paved heavens, or to the glorious summer sun, or listen to the music of the great waves, I do not for an instant mistake the adoration of the almighty power manifested in these works of God, for religion.  You tell me to beware of mixing up emotional or imaginative excitement with my devotion.  And I think I can truly answer that I do not do so.  I told you that the cathedral service was not prayer to me; nor do I ever confound a mere emotional or imaginative enthusiasm, even when excited by the highest of all objects of contemplation, with the daily and hourly endeavor after righteousness—­the humble trust, resignation, obedience, and thankfulness, which I believe constitute the vital part of religious faith.  I humbly hope I keep the sacred ground of my religion clear from whatever does not belong to the spirit of its practice.  As long as I can remember, I have endeavored to guard against mistaking emotion for religion, and have even sometimes been apprehensive lest the admiration I felt for certain passages in the Psalms and the Hebrew prophets should make me forget the more solemn and sacred purposes of the book of life, and the glad tidings