We are going to a party at Devonshire House to-night.  Here I am
     called away to receive some visitors.  Pray write soon to your
     affectionate

FANNY.

To-morrow I act Constance, and Saturday Isabella, which is all I know for the present of the future.  I have just bought A——­ a beautiful guitar; I promised her one as soon as my play was out.  My room is delicious with violets, and my new blue velvet gown heavenly in color and all other respects except the—­well, unheavenly price Devy makes me pay for it.

                                  GREAT RUSSELL STREET, April 2, 1831. 
     DEAR H——­,

I am truly sorry for M——­’s illness, just at the height of all her gay season gayeties, too; it is too provoking to have one’s tackle out of order and lie on the beach with such a summer sea sparkling before one.  I congratulate L——­ on her father’s relenting and canceling his edict against waltzing and galloping.  And yet, I am always rather sorry when a determination of that sort, firmly expressed, is departed from.  Of course our views and opinions, not being infallible, are liable to change, and may not unreasonably be altered or weakened by circumstances and the more enlightened convictions of improved powers and enlarged experience, but it is as well, therefore, for our own sakes, not to promulgate them as if they were Persian decrees.  One can step gracefully down from a lesser height, where one would fall from a greater.  But with young people generally, I think, to retreat from a position you have assumed is to run the risk of losing some of their consideration and respect; for they have neither consciousness of their own frailty, nor charity for the frailty of others, nor the wisdom to perceive that a resolution may be better broken than kept; and though perhaps themselves gaining some desired end by the yielding of their elders, I believe any indulgence so granted (that is, after being emphatically denied) never fails to leave on the youthful mind an impression of want of judgment or determination in those they have to do with.

We dine with the Fitzhughs on Tuesday week; I like Emily much, though she will talk of human souls as “vile;” I gave her Channing to read, and she liked it very much, but said that his view of man’s nature was not that of a Christian; I think her contempt for it still less such.  As we are immortal in spite of death, so I think we are wonderful in spite of our weakness, and admirable in spite of our imperfection, and capable of all good in spite of all our evil.

A——­’s guitar is a beauty, and wears a broad blue scarf and has a sweet, low, soft voice.  Mr. Pickersgill is going to paint my portrait; it is a present Major Dawkins makes my father and mother, but I do