Ever very faithfully yours

F. JEFFREY.

To Hannah M. Macaulay.

London:  December 21, 1833.

My dear Sister,—­Yesterday I dined at Boddington’s.  We had a very agreeable party:  Duncannon, Charles Grant, Sharp, Chantrey the sculptor, Bobus Smith, and James Mill.  Mill and I were extremely friendly, and I found him a very pleasant companion, and a man of more general information than I had imagined.

Bobus was very amusing.  He is a great authority on Indian matters.  He was during several years Advocate-General in Bengal, and made all his large fortune there.  I asked him about the climate.  Nothing, he said, could be pleasanter, except in August and September.  He never ate or drank so much in his life.  Indeed, his looks do credit to Bengal; for a healthier man of his age I never saw.  We talked about expenses.  “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how anybody at Calcutta can live on less than L3,000 a year, or can contrive to spend more than L4,000.”  We talked of the insects and snakes, and he said a thing which reminded me of his brother Sydney:  “Always, Sir, manage to have at your table some fleshy, blooming, young writer or cadet, just come out; that the musquitoes may stick to him, and leave the rest of the company alone.”

I have been with George Babington to the Asia.  We saw her to every disadvantage, all litter and confusion; but she is a fine ship, and our cabins will be very good.  The captain I like much.  He is an agreeable, intelligent, polished man of forty; and very good-looking, considering what storms and changes of climate he has gone through.  He advised me strongly to put little furniture into our cabins.  I told him to have yours made as neat as possible, without regard to expense.  He has promised to have it furnished simply, but prettily; and when you see it, if any addition occurs to you, it shall be made.  I shall spare nothing to make a pretty little boudoir for you.  You cannot think how my friends here praise you.  You are quite Sir James Graham’s heroine.

To-day I breakfasted with Sharp, whose kindness is as warm as possible.  Indeed, all my friends seen to be in the most amiable mood.  I have twice as many invitations as I can accept; and I have been frequently begged to name my own party.  Empty as London is, I never was so much beset with invitations.  Sharp asked me about you.  I told him how much I regretted my never having had any opportunity of showing you the best part of London society.  He said that he would take care that you should see what was best worth seeing before your departure.  He promises to give us a few breakfast-parties and dinner-parties, where you will meet as many as he can muster of the best set in town,—­Rogers, Luttrell, Rice, Tom Moore, Sydney Smith, Grant, and other great wits and politicians.  I am quite delighted at this; both because you will, I am sure, be amused, and pleased, at a time when you ought to