The leaven which animated my existence is gone:  the charm which cheered me in the gloom of night, and aroused me from my morning slumbers, is for ever fled.

I have found but one being here to interest me, a Miss B—.  She resembles you, my dear Charlotte, if any one can possibly resemble you.  “Ah!” you will say, “he has learned how to pay fine compliments.”  And this is partly true.  I have been very agreeable lately, as it was not in my power to be otherwise.  I have, moreover, a deal of wit:  and the ladies say that no one understands flattery better, or falsehoods you will add; since the one accomplishment invariably accompanies the other.  But I must tell you of Miss B—.  She has abundance of soul, which flashes from her deep blue eyes.  Her rank is a torment to her, and satisfies no one desire of her heart.  She would gladly retire from this whirl of fashion, and we often picture to ourselves a life of undisturbed happiness in distant scenes of rural retirement:  and then we speak of you, my dear Charlotte; for she knows you, and renders homage to your merits; but her homage is not exacted, but voluntary, she loves you, and delights to hear you made the subject of conversation.

Oh, that I were sitting at your feet in your favourite little room, with the dear children playing around us!  If they became troublesome to you, I would tell them some appalling goblin story; and they would crowd round me with silent attention.  The sun is setting in glory; his last rays are shining on the snow, which covers the face of the country:  the storm is over, and I must return to my dungeon.  Adieu!—­ Is Albert with you? and what is he to you?  God forgive the question.

February 8.

For a week past we have had the most wretched weather:  but this to me is a blessing; for, during my residence here, not a single fine day has beamed from the heavens, but has been lost to me by the intrusion of somebody.  During the severity of rain, sleet, frost, and storm, I congratulate myself that it cannot be worse indoors than abroad, nor worse abroad than it is within doors; and so I become reconciled.  When the sun rises bright in the morning, and promises a glorious day, I never omit to exclaim, “There, now, they have another blessing from Heaven, which they will be sure to destroy:  they spoil everything, —­ health, fame, happiness, amusement; and they do this generally through folly, ignorance, or imbecility, and always, according to their own account, with the best intentions!” I could often beseech them, on my bended knees, to be less resolved upon their own destruction.

February 17.