From the same to the same.

   ’Gay St. Sunday Evening,
   ’April 21 (1805).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,—­I am much obliged to you for writing to me again so soon; your letter yesterday was quite an unexpected pleasure.  Poor Mrs. Stent! it has been her lot to be always in the way; but we must be merciful, for perhaps in time we may come to be Mrs. Stents ourselves, unequal to anything, and unwelcome to everybody . . . .  My morning engagement was with the Cookes, and our party consisted of George and Mary, a Mr. L., Miss B., who had been with us at the concert, and the youngest Miss W. Not Julia; we have done with her; she is very ill; but Mary.  Mary W.’s turn is actually come to be grown up, and have a fine complexion, and wear great square muslin shawls.  I have not expressly enumerated myself among the party, but there I was, and my cousin George was very kind, and talked sense to me every now and then, in the intervals of his more animated fooleries with Miss B., who is very young, and rather handsome, and whose gracious manners, ready wit, and solid remarks, put me somewhat in mind of my old acquaintance L. L. There was a monstrous deal of stupid quizzing and common-place nonsense talked, but scarcely any wit; all that bordered on it or on sense came from my cousin George, whom altogether I like very well.  Mr. B. seems nothing more than a tall young man.  My evening engagement and walk was with Miss A., who had called on me the day before, and gently upbraided me in her turn with a change of manners to her since she had been in Bath, or at least of late.  Unlucky me! that my notice should be of such consequence, and my manners so bad!  She was so well disposed, and so reasonable, that I soon forgave her, and made this engagement with her in proof of it.  She is really an agreeable girl, so I think I may like her; and her great want of a companion at home, which may well make any tolerable acquaintance important to her, gives her another claim on my attention.  I shall endeavour as much as possible to keep my intimacies in their proper place, and prevent their clashing.  Among so many friends, it will be well if I do not get into a scrape; and now here is Miss Blashford come.  I should have gone distracted if the Bullers had staid . . . .  When I tell you I have been visiting a countess this morning, you will immediately, with great justice, but no truth, guess it to be Lady Roden.  No:  it is Lady Leven, the mother of Lord Balgonie.  On receiving a message from Lord and Lady Leven through the Mackays, declaring their intention of waiting on us, we thought it right to go to them.  I hope we have not done too much, but the friends and admirers of Charles must be attended to.  They seem very reasonable, good sort of people, very civil, and full of his praise. {80} We were shewn at first into an empty drawing-room, and presently in came his lordship, not knowing who we were, to apologise for the servant’s