communicates unreservedly so much more profitable, as well as pleasurable, than this everlasting self-communion.  I miss my wholesome bitters, my daily dose of contradiction; and you need not be jealous of my book, for it is a miserable pis aller for our interminable talks.

I had a visit from J——­ F——­ the other day, and she stayed an hour, talking very pleasantly, and a little after your fashion; for she propounded the influence of matter over mind and the impossibility of preserving a sound and vigorous spirit in a weak and suffering body.  I am blessed with such robust health that my moral shortcomings, however anxious I may be to refer them to side-ache, toothache, or any other ache, I am afraid deserve small mercy on the score of physical infirmity; but she, poor thing, I am sorry to say, suffers much and often from ill health, and complained, with evident experience, of the difficulty of preserving a cheerful spirit and an even temper in the dreary atmosphere of a sick-room.

When she was gone I set to work with “Francis I.,” and corrected all the errors in the meter which Mr. Milman had had the kindness to point out to me.  I then went over Beatrice with my mother, who takes infinite pains with me and seems to think I profit.  She went to the play with Mrs. Fitzgerald and Mrs. Edward Romilly, who is a daughter of Mrs. Marcet, and, owing to A——­’s detestation of that learned lady’s elementary book on natural philosophy, I was very desirous they should not meet one another, though certainly, if any of Mrs. Marcet’s works are dry and dull, it is not this charming daughter of hers.

But A——­ was rabid against “Nat.  Phil.,” as she ignominiously nick-named Mrs. Marcet’s work on natural philosophy, and so I brought her to the theater with me; and she stayed in my dressing-room when I was there, and in my aunt Siddons’s little box when I was acting, as you used to do; but she sang all the while she was with me, and though I made no sign, it gave me the nervous fidgets to such a degree that I almost forgot my part.  In spite of which I acted better, for my mother said so; and there is some hope that by the time the play is withdrawn I shall not play Beatrice “like the chief mourner at a funeral,” which is what she benignly compares my performance of the part to.

The alteration in my gowns met with her entire approbation—­I mean the taking away of the plaits from round the waist—­and my aunt Dall pronounced it an immense improvement and wished you could see it.

Lady Dacre and her daughter, Mrs. Sullivan, and Mr. James Wortley were in the orchestra, and came after the play to supper with us, as did Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Edward Romilly, and Mr. Harness:  a very pleasant party, for the ladies are all clever and charming, and got on admirably together.

     It is right, as you are a shareholder in that valuable property of
     ours, Covent Garden, you should know that there was a very fine
     house, though I cannot exactly tell you the amount of the receipts.