Constance (come up for it!); Tuesday, we dine with Lord Melbourne; and this is as much of the book of fate as is unrolled to me at present.

Mrs. Harry came here to-day; it is the first time I have seen her this month; she is looking wretchedly, and talks of returning to Edinburgh.  My first feeling at hearing this was joy that I shall not go there and find the face and voice for ever associated with Edinburgh in my heart away from it.  But I am not really glad, for it is the failure of some plan of hers which obliges her to do this.  I have the loves of all to give you, and they are all very troublesome, crying, “Give mine separately,” “Don’t lump mine;” so please take them each separately and singly.  I have been sobbing my heart out over Constance this morning, and act Fazio to-night, which is hard work.

Your affectionate

F.

GREAT RUSSELL STREET, Saturday, March 19th. 
DEAR H——­,

You ask if Mr. Trench’s account of their Spanish escapade is likely to soften my father’s view of the folly of the expedition.  I think not, by any means—­as how should it?  But the yesterday papers reported a successful attack upon Cadiz and the proclamation of Torrijos general-in-chief by the Constitutionalists, who were rising all over the country.  This has been again contradicted to-day, and may have been a mere stock-jobbing story, after all.  If it be true, however, the results may be of serious importance to my brother.  Should the Constitutionalists get the upper hand, his adherence to Torrijos may place him in a prominent position, I am afraid; perhaps, however, though success may not alter my father’s opinion of the original folly of John’s undertaking, it may in some measure reconcile him to it.  I suppose it is not impossible now that John should become an officer in the Spanish army, and that after so many various and contradictory plans his career may finally be that of a soldier.  How strange and sad it all seems to me, to be sure!

You say it’s a horrid thing one can’t “try on one’s body” and choose such a one as would suit one; but do you consider your body accidental, as it were, or do you really think we could do better for ourselves than has been done for us in this matter?  After all, our souls get used to our bodies, and in some fashion alter and shape them to fit; then you know if we had different bodies we should be different people and not our same selves at all; if I had been tall, as I confess I in my heart of hearts wish I were, what another moral creature should I have been.

You urge me to work, dear H——­, and study my profession, and were I to say I hate it, you would retort, “You do it, therefore take pains to do it well.”  And so I do, as well as I can; I have been studying Constance with my father, and rubbed off some of the rough edges of it a little.

I am sorry to say I shall not have