Godmersham, Wednesday (June 15, 1808).

My dear Cassandra,—Where shall I begin? Which of all my important nothings shall I tell you first? At half after seven yesterday morning Henry saw us into our own carriage, and we drove away from the Bath Hotel; which, by the by, had been found most uncomfortable quarters,—very dirty, very noisy, and very ill-provided. James began his journey by the coach at five. Our first eight miles were hot; Deptford Hill brought to my mind our hot journey into Kent fourteen years ago; but after Blackheath we suffered nothing, and as the day advanced it grew quite cool. At Dartford, which we reached within the two hours and three-quarters, we went to the Bull, the same inn at which we breakfasted in that said journey, and on the present occasion had about the same bad butter.

At half-past ten we were again off, and, travelling on without any adventure reached Sittingbourne by three. Daniel was watching for us at the door of the George, and I was acknowledged very kindly by Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, to the latter of whom I devoted my conversation, while Mary went out to buy some gloves. A few minutes, of course, did for Sittingbourne; and so off we drove, drove, drove, and by six o'clock were at Godmersham.

Our two brothers were walking before the house as we approached, as natural as life. Fanny and Lizzy met us in the Hall with a great deal of pleasant joy; we went for a few minutes into the breakfast-parlor, and then proceeded to our rooms. Mary has the Hall chamber. I am in the Yellow room—very literally—for I am writing in it at this moment. It seems odd to me to have such a great place all to myself, and to be at Godmersham without you is also odd.

You are wished for, I assure you: Fanny, who came to me as soon as she had seen her Aunt James to her room, and stayed while I dressed, was as energetic as usual in her longings for you. She is grown both in height and size since last year, but not immoderately, looks very well, and seems as to conduct and manner just what she was and what one could wish her to continue.

Elizabeth, who was dressing when we arrived, came to me for a minute attended by Marianne, Charles, and Louisa, and, you will not doubt, gave me a very affectionate welcome. That I had received such from Edward also I need not mention; but I do, you see, because it is a pleasure. I never saw him look in better health, and Fanny says he is perfectly well. I cannot praise Elizabeth's looks, but they are probably affected by a cold. Her little namesake has gained in beauty in the last three years, though not all that Marianne has lost. Charles is not quite so lovely as he was. Louisa is much as I expected, and Cassandra I find handsomer than I expected, though at present disguised by such a violent breaking-out that she does not come down after dinner. She has charming eyes and a nice open countenance, and seems likely to be very lovable. Her size is magnificent.

I was agreeably surprised to find Louisa Bridges still here. She looks remarkably well (legacies are very wholesome diet), and is just what she always was. John is at Sandling. You may fancy our dinner-party therefore; Fanny, of course, belonging to it, and little Edward, for that day. He was almost too happy, his happiness at least made him too talkative.

It has struck ten; I must go to breakfast.

Since breakfast I have had a tête-à-tête with Edward in his room; he wanted to know James's plans and mine, and from what his own now are I think it already nearly certain that I shall return when they do, though not with them. Edward will be going about the same time to Alton, where he has business with Mr. Trimmer, and where he means his son should join him; and I shall probably be his companion to that place, and get on afterwards somehow or other.

I should have preferred a rather longer stay here certainly, but there is no prospect of any later conveyance for me, as he does not mean to accompany Edward on his return to Winchester, from a very natural unwillingness to leave Elizabeth at that time. I shall at any rate be glad not to be obliged to be an incumbrance on those who have brought me here, for, as James has no horse, I must feel in their carriage that I am taking his place. We were rather crowded yesterday, though it does not become me to say so, as I and my boa were of the party, and it is not to be supposed but that a child of three years of age was fidgety.

I need scarcely beg you to keep all this to yourself, lest it should get round by Anna's means. She is very kindly inquired after by her friends here, who all regret her not coming with her father and mother.

I left Henry, I hope, free from his tiresome complaint, in other respects well, and thinking with great pleasure of Cheltenham and Stoneleigh.

The brewery scheme is quite at an end: at a meeting of the subscribers last week it was by general, and I believe very hearty, consent dissolved.

The country is very beautiful. I saw as much as ever to admire in my yesterday's journey....

Godmersham: Monday (June 20).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,

I will first talk of my visit to Canterbury, as Mrs. J. A.'s letter to Anna cannot have given you every particular of it which you are likely to wish for. I had a most affectionate welcome from Harriot, and was happy to see her looking almost as well as ever. She walked with me to call on Mrs. Brydges, when Elizabeth and Louisa went to Mrs. Milles'. Mrs. B. was dressing, and could not see us, and we proceeded to the White Friars, where Mrs. K. was alone in her drawing room, as gentle, and kind, and friendly as usual. She inquired after everybody, especially my mother and yourself. We were with her a quarter of an hour before Elizabeth and Louisa, hot from Mrs. Baskerville's shop, walked in; they were soon followed by the carriage, and another five minutes brought Mr. Moore himself, just returned from his morning ride.

Well, and what do I think of Mr. Moore? I will not pretend in one meeting to dislike him, whatever Mary may say, but I can honestly assure her that I saw nothing in him to admire. His manners, as you have always said, are gentlemanlike, but by no means winning. He made one formal inquiry after you.

I saw their little girl, and very small and very pretty she is. Her features are as delicate as Mary Jane's, with nice dark eyes; and if she had Mary Jane's fine colour she would be quite complete. Harriot's fondness for her seems just what is amiable and natural, and not foolish. I saw Caroline also, and thought her very plain.

Edward's plan for Hampshire does not vary; he only improves it with the kind intention of taking me on to Southampton, and spending one whole day with you; and, if it is found practicable, Edward, jun., will be added to our party for that one day also, which is to be Sunday, the 10th of July. I hope you may have beds for them. We are to begin our journey on the 8th, and reach you late on the 9th.

This morning brought me a letter from Mrs. Knight, containing the usual fee, and all the usual kindness. She asks me to spend a day or two with her this week, to meet Mrs. C. Knatchbull, who, with her husband, comes to the White Friars to-day, and I believe I shall go. I have consulted Edward, and think it will be arranged for Mrs. J. A.'s going with me one morning, my staying the night, and Edward's driving me home the next evening. Her very agreeable present will make my circumstances quite easy. I shall reserve half for my pelisse. I hope by this early return I am sure of seeing Catherine and Alethea; and I propose that, either with or without them, you and I and Martha shall have a snug fortnight while my mother is at Steventon.

We go on very well here. Mary finds the children less troublesome than she expected, and, independent of them, there is certainly not much to try the patience or hurt the spirits at Godmersham. I initiated her yesterday into the mysteries of Inman-ism. The poor old lady is as thin and cheerful as ever, and very thankful for a new acquaintance. I had called on her before with Elizabeth and Louisa.

I find John Bridges grown very old and black, but his manners are not altered; he is very pleasing, and talks of Hampshire with great admiration.

Pray let Anna have the pleasure of knowing that she is remembered with kindness, both by Mrs. Cooke and Miss Sharpe. Her manners must be very much worsted by your description of them, but I hope they will improve by this visit.

Mrs. Knight finished her letter with, 'Give my best love to Cassandra when you write to her.' I shall like spending a day at the White Friars very much.

We breakfasted in the library this morning for the first time, and most of the party have been complaining all day of the heat; but Louisa and I feel alike as to weather, and are cool and comfortable.

Wednesday.—The Moores came yesterday in their curricle, between one and two o'clock, and immediately after the noonshine which succeeded their arrival a party set off for Buckwell, to see the pond dragged—Mr. Moore, James, Edward, and James; Edward on horseback, John Bridges driving Mary in his gig. The rest of us remained quietly and comfortably at home.

We had a very pleasant dinner, at the lower end of the table at least; the merriment was chiefly between Edward, Louisa, Harriot, and myself. Mr. Moore did not talk so much as I expected, and I understand from Fanny that I did not see him at all as he is in general. Our being strangers made him so much more silent and quiet. Had I had no reason for observing what he said and did, I should scarcely have thought about him. His manners to her want tenderness, and he was a little violent at last about the impossibility of her going to Eastwell. I cannot see any unhappiness in her, however, and as to kind-heartedness, &c., she is quite unaltered. Mary was disappointed in her beauty, and thought him very disagreeable; James admires her, and finds him conversable and pleasant.

I sent my answer by them to Mrs. Knight, my double acceptance of her note and her invitation, which I wrote without much effort, for I was rich, and the rich are always respectable, whatever be their style of writing.

I am to meet Harriot at dinner to-morrow. It is one of the audit days, and Mr. M. dines with the Dean, who is just come to Canterbury. On Tuesday there is to be a family meeting at Mrs. C. Milles's: Lady Bridges and Louisa from Goodnestone, the Moores, and a party from this house—Elizabeth, John Bridges, and myself. It will give me pleasure to see Lady B.; she is now quite well. Louisa goes home on Friday, and John with her, but he returns the next day. These are our engagements; make the most of them.

Mr. Waller is dead, I see. I cannot grieve about it, nor, perhaps, can his widow very much.

Edward began cutting sanfoin on Saturday, and, I hope, is likely to have favourable weather. The crop is good.

There has been a cold and sore-throat prevailing very much in this house lately; the children have almost all been ill with it, and we were afraid Lizzy was going to be very ill one day. She had specks and a great deal of fever. It went off, however, and they are all pretty well now.

I want to hear of your gathering strawberries; we have had them three times here. I suppose you have been obliged to have in some white wine, and must visit the store closet a little oftener than when you were quite by yourselves.

One begins really to expect the St. Albans now, and I wish she may come before Henry goes to Cheltenham, it will be so much more convenient to him. He will be very glad if Frank can come to him in London, as his own time is likely to be very precious, but does not depend on it. I shall not forget Charles next week.

So much did I write before breakfast, and now, to my agreeable surprise, I have to acknowledge another letter from you. I had not the least notion of hearing before to-morrow, and heard of Russell's being about to pass the windows without any anxiety. You are very amiable and very clever to write such long letters; every page of yours has more lines than this, and every line more words than the average of mine. I am quite ashamed; but you have certainly more little events than we have. Mr. Lyford supplies you with a great deal of interesting matter (matter intellectual, not physical), but I have nothing to say of Mr. Scudamore.

And now, that is such a sad, stupid attempt at wit about matter that nobody can smile at it, and I am quite out of heart. I am sick of myself and my bad pens. I have no other complaint, however; my languor is entirely removed.

Ought I to be very much pleased with 'Marmion'? As yet I am not. James reads it aloud in the evening—the short evening, beginning at about 10, and broken by supper.

Happy Mrs. Harrison and Miss Austen! You seem to be always calling on them. I am glad your various civilities have turned out so well, and most heartily wish you success and pleasure in your present engagement. I shall think of you to-night as at Netley, and to-morrow too, that I may be quite sure of being right, and therefore I guess you will not go to Netley at all.

This is a sad story about Mrs. P. I should not have suspected her of such a thing. She stayed the Sacrament, I remember, the last time that you and I did. A hint of it, with initials, was in yesterday's 'Courier,' and Mr. Moore guessed it to be Lord S., believing there was no other Viscount S. in the peerage, and so it proved, Lord Viscount S. not being there.

Yes, I enjoy my apartment very much, and always spend two or three hours in it after breakfast. The change from Brompton quarters to these is material as to space. I catch myself going on to the hall chamber now and then.

Little Caroline looks very plain among her cousins; and though she is not so headstrong or humoursome as they are, I do not think her at all more engaging. Her brother is to go with us to Canterbury to-morrow, and Fanny completes the party. I fancy Mrs. K. feels less interest in that branch of the family than any other. I dare say she will do her duty, however, by the boy. His uncle Edward talks nonsense to him delightfully; more than he can always understand. The two Morrises are come to dine and spend the day with him.

Mary wishes my mother to buy whatever she thinks necessary for Anna's shifts, and hopes to see her at Steventon soon after the 9th of July, if that time is as convenient to my mother as any other. I have hardly done justice to what she means on the subject, as her intention is that my mother should come at whatever time she likes best. They will be at home on the 9th.

I always come in for a morning visit from Crundale, and Mr. and Mrs. Filmer have just given me my due. He and I talked away gaily of Southampton, the Harrisons, Wallers, &c.

Fanny sends her best love to you all, and will write to Anna very soon.

Yours very affectionately, JANE.

I want some news from Paragon.

I am almost sorry that Rose Hill Cottage should be so near suiting us, as it does not quite.

Miss Austen, Castle Square, Southampton.

Godmersham: Monday [June 20, 1808].

This morning brought me a letter from Mrs. Knight, containing the usual fee, and all the usual kindness. She asks me to spend a day or two with her this week, to meet Mrs. C. Knatchbull, who, with her husband, comes to the White Friars to-day, and I believe I shall go. I have consulted Edward, and think it will be arranged for Mrs. J. A.'s going with me one morning, my staying the night, and Edward driving me home the next evening. Her very agreeable present will make my circumstances quite easy. I shall reserve half for my pelisse.

Wednesday.—I sent my answer by them [the Moores] to Mrs. Knight; my double acceptance of her note and her invitation, which I wrote without effort, for I am rich, and the rich are always respectable, whatever be their style of writing.

Ought I to be very much pleased with Marmion? As yet I am not. James reads it aloud every evening—the short evening, beginning at about ten, and broken by supper.

Godmersham: Sunday (June 26).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,

I am very much obliged to you for writing to me on Thursday, and very glad that I owe the pleasure of hearing from you again so soon to such an agreeable cause; but you will not be surprised, nor perhaps so angry as I should be, to find that Frank's history had reached me before in a letter from Henry. We are all very happy to hear of his health and safety; he wants nothing but a good prize to be a perfect character.

This scheme to the island is an admirable thing for his wife; she will not feel the delay of his return in such variety. How very kind of Mrs. Craven to ask her! I think I quite understand the whole island arrangements, and shall be very ready to perform my part in them. I hope my mother will go, and I trust it is certain that there will be Martha's bed for Edward when he brings me home. What can you do with Anna? for her bed will probably be wanted for young Edward. His father writes to Dr. Goddard to-day to ask leave, and we have the pupil's authority for thinking it will be granted.

I have been so kindly pressed to stay longer here, in consequence of an offer of Henry's to take me back some time in September, that, not being able to detail all my objections to such a plan, I have felt myself obliged to give Edward and Elizabeth one private reason for my wishing to be at home in July. They feel the strength of it and say no more, and one can rely on their secrecy. After this I hope we shall not be disappointed of our friend's visit; my honour as well as my affection will be concerned in it.

Elizabeth has a very sweet scheme of our accompanying Edward into Kent next Christmas. A legacy might make it very feasible—a legacy is our sovereign good. In the meanwhile, let me remember that I have now some money to spare, and that I wish to have my name put down as a subscriber to Mr. Jefferson's works. My last letter was closed before it occurred to me how possible, how right, and how gratifying such a measure would be.

Your account of your visitors' good journey, voyage, and satisfaction in everything gave me the greatest pleasure. They have nice weather for their introduction to the island, and I hope, with such a disposition to be pleased, their general enjoyment is as certain as it will be just. Anna's being interested in the embarkation shows a taste that one values. Mary Jane's delight in the water is quite ridiculous. Elizabeth supposes Mrs. Hall will account for it by the child's knowledge of her father's being at sea.

Mrs. J. A. hopes, as I said in my last, to see my mother soon after her return home, and will meet her at Winchester on any day she will appoint.

And now I believe I have made all the needful replies and communications, and may disport myself as I can on my Canterbury visit.

It was a very agreeable visit. There was everything to make it so—kindness, conversation, variety, without care or cost. Mr. Knatchbull, from Provender, was at the W. Friars when we arrived, and stayed dinner, which, with Harriot, who came, as you may suppose, in a great hurry, ten minutes after the time, made our number six. Mr. K. went away early; Mr. Moore succeeded him, and we sat quietly working and talking till 10, when he ordered his wife away, and we adjourned to the dressing-room to eat our tart and jelly. Mr. M. was not unagreeable, though nothing seemed to go right with him. He is a sensible man and tells a story well.

Mrs. C. Knatchbull and I breakfasted tête-à-tête the next day, for her husband was gone to Mr. Toke's, and Mrs. Knight had a sad headache which kept her in bed. She had had too much company the day before. After my coming, which was not till past two, she had Mrs. Milles, of Nackington, a Mrs. and Miss Gregory, and Charles Graham; and she told me it had been so all the morning.

Very soon after breakfast on Friday, Mrs. C. K., who is just what we have always seen her, went with me to Mrs. Brydges, and Mrs. Moore's, paid some other visits while I remained with the latter, and we finished with Mrs. C. Milles, who luckily was not at home, and whose new house is a very convenient short cut from the Oaks to the W. Friars.

We found Mrs. Knight up and better; but early as it was—only 12 o'clock—we had scarcely taken off our bonnets before company came—Ly. Knatchbull and her mother; and after them succeeded Mrs. White, Mrs. Hughes and her two children, Mr. Moore, Harriot and Louisa, and John Bridges, with such short intervals between any as to make it a matter of wonder to me that Mrs. K. and I should ever have been ten minutes alone or have had any leisure for comfortable talk, yet we had time to say a little of everything. Edward came to dinner, and at 8 o'clock he and I got into the chair, and the pleasures of my visit concluded with a delightful drive home.

Mrs. and Miss Brydges seemed very glad to see me. The poor old lady looks much as she did three years ago, and was very particular in her enquiries after my mother. And from her and from the Knatchbulls I have all manner of kind compliments to give you both.

As Fanny writes to Anna by this post I had intended to keep my letter for another day, but, recollecting that I must keep it two, I have resolved rather to finish and send it now. The two letters will not interfere, I dare say; on the contrary, they may throw light on each other.

Mary begins to fancy, because she has received no message on the subject, that Anna does not mean to answer her letter, but it must be for the pleasure of fancying it. I think Elizabeth better and looking better than when we came.

Yesterday I introduced James to Mrs. Inman; in the evening John Bridges returned from Goodnestone, and this morning, before we had left the breakfast table, we had a visit from Mr. Whitfield, whose object, I imagine, was principally to thank my eldest brother for his assistance. Poor man! he has now a little intermission of his excessive solicitude on his wife's account, as she is rather better. James does duty at Godmersham to-day.

The Knatchbulls had intended coming here next week, but the rent-day makes it impossible for them to be received, and I do not think there will be any spare time afterwards. They return into Somersetshire by way of Sussex and Hants, and are to be at Fareham and, perhaps, may be in Southampton, on which possibility I said all that I thought right, and, if they are in the place, Mrs. K. has promised to call in Castle Square; it will be about the end of July. She seems to have a prospect, however, of being in that county again in the spring for a longer period, and will spend a day with us if she is.

You and I need not tell each other how glad we shall be to receive attention from, or pay it to anyone connected with, Mrs. Knight. I cannot help regretting that now, when I feel enough her equal to relish her society, I see so little of the latter.

The Milles of Nackington dine here on Friday, and perhaps the Hattons. It is a compliment as much due to me as a call from the Filmers.

When you write to the island, Mary will be glad to have Mrs. Craven informed, with her love, that she is now sure it will not be in her power to visit Mrs. Craven during her stay there, but that if Mrs. Craven can take Steventon in her way back it will be giving my brother and herself great pleasure. She also congratulates her namesake on hearing from her husband. That said namesake is rising in the world; she was thought excessively improved in her late visit. Mrs. Knight thought her so last year. Henry sends us the welcome information of his having had no face-ache since I left them.

You are very kind in mentioning old Mrs. Williams so often. Poor creature! I cannot help hoping that each letter may tell of her sufferings being over. If she wants sugar I should like to supply her with it.

The Moores went yesterday to Goodnestone, but return to-morrow. After Tuesday we shall see them no more, though Harriot is very earnest with Edward to take Wrotham in his journey, but we shall be in too great a hurry to get nearer to it than Wrotham Gate. He wishes to reach Guildford on Friday night, that we may have a couple of hours to spare for Alton. I shall be sorry to pass the door at Seale without calling, but it must be so; and I shall be nearer to Bookham than I could wish in going from Dorking to Guildford; but till I have a travelling purse of my own I must submit to such things.

The Moores leave Canterbury on Friday, and go for a day or two to Sandling. I really hope Harriot is altogether very happy, but she cannot feel quite so much at her ease with her husband as the wives she has been used to.

Good-bye. I hope you have been long recovered from your worry on Thursday morning, and that you do not much mind not going to the Newbury races. I am withstanding those of Canterbury. Let that strengthen you.

Yours very sincerely, JANE.

Miss Austen, Castle Square, Southampton.

Godmersham: Sunday [June 26, 1808].

I am very much obliged to you for writing to me on Thursday, and very glad that I owe the pleasure of hearing from you again so soon to such an agreeable cause; but you will not be surprised, nor perhaps so angry as I should be, to find that Frank's history had reached me before in a letter from Henry. We are all very happy to hear of his health and safety; he wants nothing but a good prize to be a perfect character.

They [the Knatchbulls] return into Somersetshire by way of Sussex and Hants, and are to be at Fareham, and, perhaps, may be in Southampton, on which possibility I said all that I thought right, and, if they are in the place Mrs. K. has promised to call in Castle Square; it will be about the end of July. . . . You and I need not tell each other how glad we shall be to receive attention from, or pay it to anyone connected with Mrs. Knight. I cannot help regretting that now, when I feel enough her equal to relish her society, I see so little of the latter.

Godmersham: Thursday (June 20).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,

I give you all joy of Frank's return, which happens in the true sailor way, just after our being told not to expect him for some weeks. The wind has been very much against him, but I suppose he must be in our neighbourhood by this time. Fanny is in hourly expectation of him here.

Mary's visit in the island is probably shortened by this event. Make our kind love and congratulations to her.

What cold disagreeable weather, ever since Sunday! I dare say you have fires every day. My kerseymere spencer is quite the comfort of our evening walks.

Mary thanks Anna for her letter, and wishes her to buy enough of her new coloured frock to make a shirt handkerchief. I am glad to hear of her Aunt Maitland's kind present. We want you to send us Anna's height, that we may know whether she is as tall as Fanny; and pray can you tell me of any little thing that would be probably acceptable to Mrs. F. A.? I wish to bring her something: has she a silver knife, or would you recommend a brooch? I shall not spend more than half a guinea about it.

Our Tuesday's engagement went off very pleasantly; we called first on Mrs. Knight, and found her very well; and at dinner had only the Milles' of Nackington, in addition to Goodnestone and Godmersham, and Mrs. Moore. Lady Bridges looked very well, and would have been very agreeable, I am sure, had there been time enough for her to talk to me; but as it was, she could only be kind and amiable, give one good-humoured smiles, and make friendly enquiries. Her son Edward was also looking very well, and with manners as unaltered as hers. In the evening came Mr. Moore, Mr. Toke, Dr. and Mrs. Walsby, and others. One card-table was formed, the rest of us sat and talked, and at half after nine we came away.

Yesterday my two brothers went to Canterbury, and J. Bridges left us for London in his way to Cambridge, where he is to take his master's degree.

Edward and Caroline and their mamma have all had the Godmersham cold, the former with sore-throat and fever, which his looks are still suffering from. He is very happy here, however, but I believe the little girl will be glad to go home; her cousins are too much for her. We are to have Edward, I find, at Southampton, while his mother is in Berkshire for the races, and are very likely to have his father too. If circumstances are favourable, that will be a good time for our scheme to Beaulieu.

Lady E. Hatton called here a few mornings ago, her daughter Elizth. with her, who says as little as ever, but holds up her head and smiles, and is to be at the races. Annamaria was there with Mrs. Hope, but we are to see her here to-morrow.

So much was written before breakfast; it is now half-past twelve, and, having heard Lizzy read, I am moved down into the library for the sake of fire, which agreeably surprised us when we assembled at ten, and here in warm and happy solitude proceed to acknowledge this day's letter.

We give you credit for your spirited voyage, and are very glad it was accomplished so pleasantly, and that Anna enjoyed it so much. I hope you are not the worse for the fatigue; but to embark at four you must have got up at three, and most likely had no sleep at all. Mary's not choosing to be at home occasions a general small surprise. As to Martha, she has not the least chance in the world of hearing from me again, and I wonder at her impudence in proposing it. I assure you I am as tired of writing long letters as you can be. What a pity that one should still be so fond of receiving them!

Fanny Austen's match is quite news, and I am sorry she has behaved so ill. There is some comfort to us in her misconduct, that we have not a congratulatory letter to write.

James and Edward are gone to Sandling to-day—a nice scheme for James, as it will show him a new and fine country. Edward certainly excels in doing the honours to his visitors, and providing for their amusement. They come back this evening.

Elizabeth talks of going with her three girls to Wrotham while her husband is in Hampshire; she is improved in looks since we first came, and, excepting a cold, does not seem at all unwell. She is considered, indeed, as more than usually active for her situation and size. I have tried to give James pleasure by telling him of his daughter's taste, but if he felt he did not express it. I rejoice in it very sincerely.

Henry talks, or rather writes, of going to the Downes, if the 'St. Albans' continues there, but I hope it will be settled otherwise. I had everybody's congratulations on her arrival at Canterbury. It is pleasant to be among people who know one's connections and care about them, and it amuses me to hear John Bridges talk of 'Frank.' I have thought a little of writing to the Downs, but I shall not, it is so very certain that he would be somewhere else when my letter got there.

Mr. Tho. Leigh is again in town, or was very lately. Henry met with him last Sunday in St. James's Church. He owned being come up unexpectedly on business, which we of course think can be only one business, and he came post from Adlestrop in one day, which, if it could be doubted before, convinces Henry that he will live for ever.

Mrs. Knight is kindly anxious for our good, and thinks Mr. L. P. must be desirous for his family's sake to have everything settled. Indeed I do not know where we are to get our legacy, but we will keep a sharp look-out. Lady B. was all in prosperous black the other day.

A letter from Jenny Smalbone to her daughter brings intelligence which is to be forwarded to my mother—the calving of a cow at Steventon. I am also to give her mamma's love to Anna, and say that as her papa talks of writing her a letter of comfort she will not write, because she knows it would certainly prevent his doing so.

When are calculations ever right? I could have sworn that Mary must have heard of the 'St. Albans' ' return, and would have been wild to come home or to be doing something. Nobody ever feels or acts, suffers or enjoys, as one expects.

I do not at all regard Martha's disappointment in the island; she will like it the better in the end. I cannot help thinking and re-thinking of your going to the island so heroically. It puts me in mind of Mrs. Hastings' voyage down the Ganges, and, if we had but a room to retire into to eat our fruit, we would have a picture of it hung there.

Friday, July 1.—The weather is mended, which I attribute to my writing about it; and I am in hopes, as you make no complaint, though on the water and at four in the morning, that it has not been so cold with you.

It will be two years to-morrow since we left Bath for Clifton, with what happy feelings of escape!

This post has brought me a few lines from the amiable Frank, but he gives us no hope of seeing him here. We are not unlikely to have a peep at Henry, who, unless the 'St. Albans' moves quickly, will be going to the Downs, and who will not be able to be in Kent without giving a day or two to Godmersham.

James has heard this morning from Mrs. Cooke, in reply to his offer of taking Bookham in his way home, which is kindly accepted; and Edwd. has had a less agreeable answer from Dr. Goddard, who actually refuses the petition. Being once fool enough to make a rule of never letting a boy go away an hour before the breaking-up hour, he is now fool enough to keep it. We are all disappointed. His letter brings a double disappointment, for he has no room for George this summer.

My brothers returned last night at ten, having spent a very agreeable day in the usual routine. They found Mrs. D. at home, and Mr. D. returned from business abroad to dinner. James admires the place very much, and thinks the two eldest girls handsome, but Mary's beauty has the preference. The number of children struck him a good deal, for not only are their own eleven all at home, but the three little Bridgeses are also with them.

James means to go once more to Canty. to see his friend Dr. Marlowe, who is coming about this time. I shall hardly have another opportunity of going there. In another week I shall be at home, and there, my having been at Godmersham will seem like a dream, as my visit at Brompton seems already.

The orange wine will want our care soon. But in the meantime, for elegance and ease and luxury, the Hattons and Milles' dine here to-day, and I shall eat ice and drink French wine, and be above vulgar economy. Luckily the pleasures of friendship, of unreserved conversation, of similarity of taste and opinions, will make good amends for orange wine.

Little Edwd. is quite well again.

Yours affectionately, with love from all,

J. A.

Miss Austen, Castle Square, Southampton.

Godmersham: Thursday [June 30, 1808].

You are very kind in mentioning old Mrs. Williams so often. Poor creature! I cannot help hoping that each letter may tell of her suffering being over. If she wants sugar I should like to supply her with it.

I give you all joy of Frank's return, which happens in the true sailor way, just after our being told not to expect him for some weeks. The wind has been very much against him, but I suppose he must be in our neighbourhood by this time. Fanny is in hourly expectation of him here. Mary's visit in the island is probably shortened by this event. Make our kind love and congratulations to her.

James and Edward are gone to Sandling to-day—a nice scheme for James, as it will show him a new and fine country. Edward certainly excels in doing the honours to his visitors, and providing for their amusement. They come back this evening.

It is pleasant to be among people who know one's connections and care about them, and it amuses me to hear John Bridges talk of 'Frank.' I have thought a little of writing to the Downs, but I shall not, it is so very certain that he would be somewhere else when my letter got there.

Friday, July 1.—It will be two years to-morrow since we left Bath for Clifton, with what happy feelings of escape!

In another week I shall be at home, and there, my having been at Godmersham will seem like a dream, as my visit to Brompton seems already.

The orange wine will want our care soon. But in the meantime, for elegance and ease and luxury, the Hattons and the Milles' dine here to-day, and I shall eat ice and drink French wine, and be above vulgar economy. Luckily the pleasures of friendship, of unreserved conversation, of similarity of taste and opinions, will make good amends for orange wine.

Little Edward is quite well again.

Yours affectionately, with love from all, J. A.

“I give you all joy of Frank’s return, which happens in the true sailor way, just after our being told not to expect him for some weeks. The wind had been very much against him, but I suppose he must be in our neighbourhood now by this time. Fanny is in hourly expectation of him here. Mary’s visit in the island is probably shortened by this event. Make our kind love and congratulations to her.”

Castle Square: Saturday (October 1).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,

Your letter this morning was quite unexpected, and it is well that it brings such good news to counterbalance the disappointment to me of losing my first sentence, which I had arranged full of proper hopes about your journey, intending to commit them to paper to-day, and not looking for certainty till to-morrow.

We are extremely glad to hear of the birth of the child, and trust everything will proceed as well as it begins. His mamma has our best wishes, and he our second best for health and comfort—though I suppose, unless he has our best too, we do nothing for her. We are glad it was all over before your arrival, and I am most happy to find who the godmother is to be. My mother was some time guessing the names.

Henry's present to you gives me great pleasure, and I shall watch the weather for him at this time with redoubled interest.

We have had four brace of birds lately, in equal lots, from Shalden and Neatham.

Our party at Mrs. Duer's produced the novelties of two old Mrs. Pollens and Mrs. Heywood, with whom my mother made a quadrille table; and of Mrs. Maitland and Caroline, and Mr. Booth without his sisters, at commerce. I have got a husband for each of the Miss Maitlands; Colonel Powlett and his brother have taken Argyle's inner house, and the consequence is so natural that I have no ingenuity in planning it. If the brother should luckily be a little sillier than the Colonel, what a treasure for Eliza!

Mr. Lyford called on Tuesday to say that he was disappointed of his son and daughter's coming, and must go home himself the following morning; and as I was determined that he should not lose every pleasure, I consulted him on my complaint. He recommended cotton, moistened with oil of sweet almonds, and it has done me good. I hope, therefore, to have nothing more to do with Eliza's receipt than to feel obliged to her for giving it, as I very sincerely do.

Mrs. Tilson's remembrance gratifies me, and I will use her patterns if I can.

I have just finished a handkerchief for Mrs. James Austen, which I expect her husband to give me an opportunity of sending to her ere long. Some fine day in October will certainly bring him to us in the garden, between three and four o'clock. She hears that Miss Bigg is to be married in a fortnight. I wish it may be so.

About an hour and a-half after your toils on Wednesday ended, ours began. At seven o'clock Mrs. Harrison, her two daughters and two visitors, with Mr. Debary and his eldest sister, walked in.

A second pool of commerce, and all the longer by the addition of the two girls, who during the first had one corner of the table and spillikens to themselves, was the ruin of us; it completed the prosperity of Mr. Debary, however, for he won them both.

Mr. Harrison came in late, and sat by the fire, for which I envied him, as we had our usual luck of having a very cold evening. It rained when our company came, but was dry again before they left us.

The Miss Ballards are said to be remarkably well-informed; their manners are unaffected and pleasing, but they do not talk quite freely enough to be agreeable, nor can I discover any right they had by taste or feeling to go their late tour.

Miss Austen and her nephew are returned, but Mr. Choles is still absent. 'Still absent,' say you, 'I did not know that he was gone anywhere;' neither did I know that Lady Bridges was at Godmersham at all, till I was told of her being still there, which I take, therefore, to be the most approved method of announcing arrivals and departures.

Mr. Choles is gone to drive a cow to Brentford, and his place is supplied to us by a man who lives in the same sort of way by odd jobs, and among other capabilities has that of working in a garden, which my mother will not forget if we ever have another garden here. In general, however, she thinks much more of Alton, and really expects to move there.

Mrs. Lyell's 130 guineas rent have made a great impression. To the purchase of furniture, whether here or there, she is quite reconciled, and talks of the trouble as the only evil. I depended upon Henry's liking the Alton plan, and expect to hear of something perfectly unexceptionable there, through him.

Our Yarmouth division seem to have got nice lodgings; and, with fish almost for nothing and plenty of engagements and plenty of each other, must be very happy.

My mother has undertaken to cure six hams for Frank; at first it was a distress, but now it is a pleasure. She desires me to say that she does not doubt your making out the star pattern very well, as you have the breakfast-room rug to look at.

We have got the second volume of ' Espriella's Letters,' and I read it aloud by candlelight. The man describes well, but is horribly anti-English. He deserves to be the foreigner he assumes.

Mr. Debary went away yesterday, and I, being gone with some partridges to St. Maries, lost his parting visit.

I have heard to-day from Miss Sharpe, and find that she returns with Miss B. to Hinckley, and will continue there at least till about Christmas, when she thinks they may both travel southward. Miss B., however, is probably to make only a temporary absence from Mr. Chessyre, and I should not wonder if Miss Sharpe were to continue with her; unless anything more eligible offer she certainly will. She describes Miss B. as very anxious that she should do so.

Sunday.—I had not expected to hear from you again so soon, and am much obliged to you for writing as you did; but now, as you must have a great deal of the business upon your hands, do not trouble yourself with me for the present; I shall consider silence as good news, and not expect another letter from you till Friday or Saturday.

You must have had a great deal more rain than has fallen here; cold enough it has been, but not wet, except for a few hours on Wednesday evening, and I could have found nothing more plastic than dust to stick in; now, indeed, we are likely to have a wet day, and, though Sunday, my mother begins it without any ailment.

Your plants were taken in one very cold, blustering day, and placed in the dining-room, and there was a frost the very same night. If we have warm weather again they are to be put out of doors; if not, my mother will have them conveyed to their winter quarters. I gather some currants every now and then, when I want either fruit or employment.

Pray tell my little goddaughter that I am delighted to hear of her saying her lesson so well.

You have used me ill: you have been writing to Martha without telling me of it, and a letter which I sent her on Wednesday to give her information of you must have been good for nothing. I do not know how to think that something will not still happen to prevent her returning by the 10th; and if it does, I shall not much regard it on my own account, for I am now got into such a way of being alone that I do not wish even for her.

The Marquis has put off being cured for another year; after waiting some weeks in vain for the return of the vessel he had agreed for, he is gone into Cornwall to order a vessel built for himself by a famous man in that country, in which he means to go abroad a twelvemonth hence.

Everybody who comes to Southampton finds it either their duty or pleasure to call upon us; yesterday we were visited by the eldest Miss Cotterel, just arrived from Waltham. Adieu! With love to all,

Yours affectionately, J. A.

We had two pheasants last night from Neatham. To-morrow evening is to be given to the Maitlands. We are just asked to meet Mrs. Heywood and Mrs. Duer.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq. Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square: Saturday [October 1, 1808]. My dear Cassandra,—Your letter this morning was quite unexpected, and it is well that it brings such good news to counterbalance the disappointment to me of losing my first sentence, which I had arranged full of proper hopes about your journey, intending to commit them to paper to-day, and not looking for certainty till to-morrow. We are extremely glad to hear of the birth of the child, and trust everything will proceed as well as it begins. His mamma has our best wishes, and he our second best for health and comfort—though I suppose, unless he has our best too, we do nothing for her. We are glad it was all over before your arrival, and I am most happy to find who the godmother is to be. My mother was some time guessing the names. About an hour and a half after your toils on Wednesday ended, ours began. At seven o'clock Mrs. Harrison, her two daughters and two visitors, with Mr. Debary and his eldest sister, walked in. A second pool of commerce, and all the longer by the addition of the two girls, who during the first had one corner of the table and spillikins to themselves, was the ruin of us; it completed the prosperity of Mr. Debary, however, for he won them both. Mr. Harrison came in late, and sat by the fire, for which I envied him, as we had our usual luck of having a very cold evening. It rained when our company came, but was dry again before they left us. The Miss Ballards are said to be remarkably well-informed; their manners are unaffected and pleasing, but they do not talk quite freely enough to be agreeable, nor can I discover any right they had by taste or feeling to go their late tour. We have got the second volume of Espriella's Letters, and I read it aloud by candlelight. The man describes well, but is horribly anti-English. He deserves to be the foreigner he assumes. The Marquis has put off being cured for another year; after waiting some weeks in vain for the return of the vessel he had agreed for, he is gone into Cornwall to order a vessel built for himself by a famous man in that country, in which he means to go abroad a twelvemonth hence. With love to all, Yours affectionately, J. A.

Castle Square: Friday (October 7).

MY DEAR CASSANDRA,

Your letter on Tuesday gave us great pleasure, and we congratulate you all upon Elizabeth's hitherto happy recovery; to-morrow, or Sunday, I hope to hear of its advancing in the same style. We are also very glad to know that you are so well yourself, and pray you to continue so.

I was rather surprised on Monday by the arrival of a letter for you, from your Winchester correspondent, who seemed perfectly unsuspicious of your being likely to be at Godmersham. I took complete possession of the letter by reading, paying for, and answering it; and he will have the biscuits to-day—a very proper day for the purpose, though I did not think of it at the time.

I wish my brother joy of completing his thirtieth year, and hope the day will be remembered better than it was six years ago.

The masons are now repairing the chimney, which they found in such a state as to make it wonderful that it should have stood so long, and next to impossible that another violent wind should not blow it down. We may, therefore, thank you perhaps for saving us from being thumped with old bricks. You are also to be thanked by Eliza's desire for your present to her of dyed satin, which is made into a bonnet, and I fancy surprises her by its good appearance.

My mother is preparing mourning for Mrs. E. K.; she has picked her old silk pelisse to pieces, and means to have it dyed black for a gown—a very interesting scheme, though just now a little injured by finding that it must be placed in Mr. Wren's hands, for Mr. Chambers is gone. As for Mr. Floor, he is at present rather low in our estimation. How is your blue gown? Mine is all to pieces. I think there must have been something wrong in the dye, for in places it divided with a touch. There was four shillings thrown away, to be added to my subjects of never-failing regret.

We found ourselves tricked into a thorough party at Mrs. Maitland's, a quadrille and a commerce table, and music in the other room. There were two pools at commerce, but I would not play more than one, for the stake was three shillings, and I cannot afford to lose that twice in an evening. The Miss M.'s were as civil and as silly as usual.

You know of course that Martha comes to-day, yesterday brought us notice of it, and the spruce beer is brewed in consequence.

On Wednesday I had a letter from Yarmouth, to desire me to send Mary's flannels and furs, &c.; and, as there was a packing case at hand, I could do it without any trouble.

On Tuesday evening Southampton was in a good deal of alarm for about an hour: a fire broke out soon after nine at Webb's, the pastrycook, and burnt for some time with great fury. I cannot learn exactly how it originated; at the time it was said to be their bakehouse, but now I hear it was in the back of their dwelling-house, and that one room was consumed.

The flames were considerable: they seemed about as near to us as those at Lyme, and to reach higher. One could not but feel uncomfortable, and I began to think of what I should do if it came to the worst; happily, however, the night was perfectly still, the engines were immediately in use, and before ten the fire was nearly extinguished, though it was twelve before everything was considered safe, and a guard was kept the whole night. Our friends the Duers were alarmed, but not out of their good sense or benevolence.

I am afraid the Webbes have lost a great deal, more perhaps from ignorance or plunder than the fire; they had a large stock of valuable china, and, in order to save it, it was taken from the house and thrown down anywhere.

The adjoining house, a toyshop, was almost equally injured, and Hibbs, whose house comes next, was so scared from his senses that he was giving away all his goods, valuable laces, &c., to anybody who would take them.

The crowd in the High Street, I understand, was immense; Mrs. Harrison, who was drinking tea with a lady at Millar's, could not leave at twelve o'clock. Such are the prominent features of our fire. Thank God they were not worse!

Saturday.—Thank you for your letter, which found me at the breakfast table with my two companions.

I am greatly pleased with your account of Fanny; I found her in the summer just what you describe, almost another sister; and could not have supposed that a niece would ever have been so much to me. She is quite after one's own heart; give her my best love, and tell her that I always think of her with pleasure.

I am much obliged to you for inquiring about my ear, and am happy to say that Mr. Lyford's prescription has entirely cured me. I feel it a great blessing to hear again.

Your gown shall be unpicked, but I do not remember its being settled so before.

Martha was here by half-past six, attended by Lyddy; they had some rain at last, but a very good journey on the whole; and if looks and words may be trusted Martha is very happy to be returned. We receive her with Castle Square weather; it has blown a gale from the N.W. ever since she came, and we feel ourselves in luck that the chimney was mended yesterday.

She brings several good things for the larder, which is now very rich: we had a pheasant and hare the other day from the Mr. Grays of Alton. Is this to entice us to Alton, or to keep us away? Henry had probably some share in the two last baskets from that neighbourhood, but we have not seen so much of his hand-writing, even as a direction to either.

Martha was an hour and a-half in Winchester, walking about with the three boys and at the pastrycook's. She thought Edward grown, and speaks with the same admiration as before of his manners; she saw in George a little likeness to his uncle Henry.

I am glad you are to see Harriot; give my love to her. I wish you may be able to accept Lady Bridges' invitation, though I could not her son Edward's; she is a nice woman and honours me by her remembrance.

Do you recollect whether the Manydown family sent about their wedding cake? Mrs. Dundas has set her heart upon having a piece from her friend Catherine, and Martha, who knows what importance she attaches to this sort of thing, is anxious for the sake of both that there should not be a disappointment.

Our weather, I fancy, has been just like yours; we have had some very delightful days, our 5th and 6th were what the 5th and 6th of October should always be, but we have always wanted a fire within doors, at least except for just the middle of the day.

Martha does not find the key which you left in my charge for her suit the keyhole, and wants to know whether you think you can have mistaken it. It should open the interior of her high drawers, but she is in no hurry about it.

Sunday.—It is cold enough now for us to prefer dining upstairs to dining below without a fire, and being only three we manage it very well, and to-day with two more we shall do just as well, I dare say. Miss Foote and Miss Wethered are coming.

My mother is much pleased with Elizabeth's admiration of the rug; and pray tell Elizabeth that the new mourning gown is to be made double only in the body and sleeves.

Martha thanks you for your message, and desires you may be told, with her best love, that your wishes are answered, and that she is full of peace and comfort here. I do not think, however, that here she will remain a great while; she does not herself expect that Mrs. Dundas will be able to do with her long. She wishes to stay with us till Christmas, if possible. Lyddy goes home to-morrow: she seems well, but does not mean to go to service at present.

The Wallops are returned. Mr. John Harrison has paid his visit of duty and is gone. We have got a new physician, a Dr. Percival, the son of a famous Dr. Percival, of Manchester, who wrote moral tales for Edward to give to me.

When you write again to Catherine, thank her on my part for her very kind and welcome mark of friendship; I shall value such a brooch very much.

Good-bye, my dearest Cassandra.

Yours very affectionately, J. A.

Have you written to Mrs. E. Leigh? Martha will be glad to find Anne in work at present, and I am as glad to have her so found. We must turn our black pelisses into new, for velvet is to be very much worn this winter.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq. Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square: Friday [October 7, 1808].

My dear Cassandra,—Your letter on Tuesday gave us great pleasure, and we congratulate you all upon Elizabeth's hitherto happy recovery; to-morrow, or Sunday, I hope to hear of its advancing in the same style. We are also very glad to know that you are so well yourself, and pray you to continue so.

We found ourselves tricked into a thorough party at Mrs. M.'s, a quadrille and a commerce table, and music in the other room. There were two pools at commerce, but I would not play more than one, for the stake was three shillings, and I cannot afford to lose that twice in an evening. The Miss M.'s were as civil and as silly as usual.

Saturday.—Thank you for your letter, which found me at the breakfast table with my two companions.

I am greatly pleased with your account of Fanny; I found her in the summer just what you describe, almost another sister; and could not have supposed that a niece would ever have been so much to me. She is quite after one's own heart; give her my best love, and tell her that I always think of her with pleasure.

Martha was an hour and a half in Winchester, walking about with the three boys and at the pastry-cook's. She thought Edward grown, and speaks with the same admiration as before of his manners; she saw in George a little likeness to his uncle Henry.

Castle Square, October 13.

My dearest Cassandra,—I have received your letter, and with most melancholy anxiety was it expected, for the sad news reached us last night, but without any particulars. It came in a short letter to Martha from her sister, begun at Steventon and finished in Winchester.

We have felt, we do feel, for you all, as you will not need to be told,—for you, for Fanny, for Henry, for Lady Bridges, and for dearest Edward, whose loss and whose sufferings seem to make those of every other person nothing. God be praised that you can say what you do of him: that he has a religious mind to bear him up, and a disposition that will gradually lead him to comfort.

My dear, dear Fanny, I am so thankful that she has you with her! You will be everything to her; you will give her all the consolation that human aid can give. May the Almighty sustain you all, and keep you, my dearest Cassandra, well; but for the present I dare say you are equal to everything.

You will know that the poor boys are at Steventon. Perhaps it is best for them, as they will have more means of exercise and amusement there than they could have with us, but I own myself disappointed by the arrangement. I should have loved to have them with me at such a time. I shall write to Edward by this post.

We shall, of course, hear from you again very soon, and as often as you can write. We will write as you desire, and I shall add Bookham. Hamstall, I suppose, you write to yourselves, as you do not mention it.

What a comfort that Mrs. Deedes is saved from present misery and alarm! But it will fall heavy upon poor Harriot; and as for Lady B., but that her fortitude does seem truly great, I should fear the effect of such a blow, and so unlooked for. I long to hear more of you all. Of Henry's anguish I think with grief and solicitude; but he will exert himself to be of use and comfort.

With what true sympathy our feelings are shared by Martha you need not be told; she is the friend and sister under every circumstance.

We need not enter into a panegyric on the departed, but it is sweet to think of her great worth, of her solid principles, of her true devotion, her excellence in every relation of life. It is also consolatory to reflect on the shortness of the sufferings which led her from this world to a better.

Farewell for the present, my dearest sister. Tell Edward that we feel for him and pray for him.

Yours affectionately, J. Austen.

I will write to Catherine.

Perhaps you can give me some directions about mourning.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square, Saturday night (October 15).

My dear Cassandra,—Your accounts make us as comfortable as we can expect to be at such a time. Edward's loss is terrible, and must be felt as such, and these are too early days indeed to think of moderation in grief, either in him or his afflicted daughter, but soon we may hope that our dear Fanny's sense of duty to that beloved father will rouse her to exertion. For his sake, and as the most acceptable proof of love to the spirit of her departed mother, she will try to be tranquil and resigned. Does she feel you to be a comfort to her, or is she too much overpowered for anything but solitude?

Your account of Lizzy is very interesting. Poor child! One must hope the impression will be strong, and yet one's heart aches for a dejected mind of eight years old.

I suppose you see the corpse? How does it appear? We are anxious to be assured that Edward will not attend the funeral, but when it comes to the point I think he must feel it impossible.

Your parcel shall set off on Monday, and I hope the shoes will fit; Martha and I both tried them on. I shall send you such of your mourning as I think most likely to be useful, reserving for myself your stockings and half the velvet, in which selfish arrangement I know I am doing what you wish.

I am to be in bombazeen and crape, according to what we are told is universal here, and which agrees with Martha's previous observation. My mourning, however, will not impoverish me, for by having my velvet pelisse fresh lined and made up, I am sure I shall have no occasion this winter for anything new of that sort. I take my cloak for the lining, and shall send yours on the chance of its doing something of the same for you, though I believe your pelisse is in better repair than mine. One Miss Baker makes my gown and the other my bonnet, which is to be silk covered with crape.

I have written to Edward Cooper, and hope he will not send one of his letters of cruel comfort to my poor brother: and yesterday I wrote to Alethea Bigg, in reply to a letter from her. She tells us in confidence that Catherine is to be married on Tuesday se'nnight. Mr. Hill is expected at Manydown in the course of the ensuing week.

We are desired by Mrs. Harrison and Miss Austen to say everything proper for them to yourself and Edward on this sad occasion, especially that nothing but a wish of not giving additional trouble where so much is inevitable prevents their writing themselves to express their concern. They seem truly to feel concern.

I am glad you can say what you do of Mrs. Knight and of Goodnestone in general. It is a great relief to me to know that the shock did not make any of them ill. But what a task was yours to announce it! Now I hope you are not overpowered with letter-writing, as Henry and John can ease you of many of your correspondents.

Was Mr. Scudamore in the house at the time, was any application attempted, and is the seizure at all accounted for?

Sunday.—As Edward's letter to his son is not come here, we know that you must have been informed as early as Friday of the boys being at Steventon, which I am glad of.

Upon your letter to Dr. Goddard's being forwarded to them, Mary wrote to ask whether my mother wished to have her grandsons sent to her. We decided on their remaining where they were, which I hope my brother will approve of. I am sure he will do us the justice of believing that in such a decision we sacrificed inclination to what we thought best.

I shall write by the coach to-morrow to Mrs. J. A., and to Edward, about their mourning, though this day's post will probably bring directions to them on that subject from yourselves. I shall certainly make use of the opportunity of addressing our nephew on the most serious of all concerns, as I naturally did in my letter to him before. The poor boys are, perhaps, more comfortable at Steventon than they could be here, but you will understand my feelings with respect to it.

To-morrow will be a dreadful day for you all. Mr. Whitfield's will be a severe duty. Glad shall I be to hear that it is over.

That you are forever in our thoughts you will not doubt. I see your mournful party in my mind's eye under every varying circumstance of the day; and in the evening especially figure to myself its sad gloom: the efforts to talk, the frequent summons to melancholy orders and cares, and poor Edward, restless in misery, going from one room to another, and perhaps not seldom upstairs, to see all that remains of his Elizabeth. Dearest Fanny must now look upon herself as his prime source of comfort, his dearest friend; as the being who is gradually to supply to him, to the extent that is possible, what he has lost. This consideration will elevate and cheer her.

Adieu. You cannot write too often, as I said before. We are heartily rejoiced that the poor baby gives you no particular anxiety. Kiss dear Lizzy for us. Tell Fanny that I shall write in a day or two to Miss Sharpe.

My mother is not ill.

Yours most truly, J. Austen.

Tell Henry that a hamper of apples is gone to him from Kintbury, and that Mr. Fowle intended writing on Friday (supposing him in London) to beg that the charts, etc., may be consigned to the care of the Palmers. Mrs. Fowle has also written to Miss Palmer to beg she will send for them.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square, Monday (October 24).

My dear Cassandra,—Edward and George came to us soon after seven on Saturday, very well, but very cold, having by choice travelled on the outside, and with no greatcoat but what Mr. Wise, the coachman, good-naturedly spared them of his, as they sat by his side. They were so much chilled when they arrived, that I was afraid they must have taken cold; but it does not seem at all the case: I never saw them looking better.

They behave extremely well in every respect, showing quite as much feeling as one wishes to see, and on every occasion speaking of their father with the liveliest affection. His letter was read over by each of them yesterday, and with many tears; George sobbed aloud, Edward's tears do not flow so easily; but as far as I can judge they are both very properly impressed by what has happened. Miss Lloyd, who is a more impartial judge than I can be, is exceedingly pleased with them.

George is almost a new acquaintance to me, and I find him in a different way as engaging as Edward.

We do not want amusement: bilbocatch, at which George is indefatigable, spillikins, paper ships, riddles, conundrums, and cards, with watching the flow and ebb of the river, and now and then a stroll out, keep us well employed; and we mean to avail ourselves of our kind papa's consideration, by not returning to Winchester till quite the evening of Wednesday.

Mrs. J. A. had not time to get them more than one suit of clothes; their others are making here, and though I do not believe Southampton is famous for tailoring, I hope it will prove itself better than Basingstoke. Edward has an old black coat, which will save his having a second new one; but I find that black pantaloons are considered by them as necessary, and of course one would not have them made uncomfortable by the want of what is usual on such occasions.

Fanny's letter was received with great pleasure yesterday, and her brother sends his thanks and will answer it soon. We all saw what she wrote, and were very much pleased with it.

To-morrow I hope to hear from you, and to-morrow we must think of poor Catherine. To-day Lady Bridges is the heroine of our thoughts, and glad shall we be when we can fancy the meeting over. There will then be nothing so very bad for Edward to undergo.

The "St. Albans," I find, sailed on the very day of my letters reaching Yarmouth, so that we must not expect an answer at present; we scarcely feel, however, to be in suspense, or only enough to keep our plans to ourselves. We have been obliged to explain them to our young visitors, in consequence of Fanny's letter, but we have not yet mentioned them to Steventon. We are all quite familiarized to the idea ourselves; my mother only wants Mrs. Seward to go out at midsummer.

What sort of a kitchen garden is there? Mrs. J. A. expresses her fear of our settling in Kent, and, till this proposal was made, we began to look forward to it here; my mother was actually talking of a house at Wye. It will be best, however, as it is.

Anne has just given her mistress warning; she is going to be married; I wish she would stay her year.

On the subject of matrimony, I must notice a wedding in the Salisbury paper, which has amused me very much, Dr. Phillot to Lady Frances St. Lawrence. She wanted to have a husband, I suppose, once in her life, and he a Lady Frances.

I hope your sorrowing party were at church yesterday, and have no longer that to dread. Martha was kept at home by a cold, but I went with my two nephews, and I saw Edward was much affected by the sermon, which, indeed, I could have supposed purposely addressed to the afflicted, if the text had not naturally come in the course of Dr. Mant's observations on the Litany: 'All that are in danger, necessity, or tribulation,' was the subject of it. The weather did not allow us afterwards to get farther than the quay, where George was very happy as long as we could stay, flying about from one side to the other, and skipping on board a collier immediately.

In the evening we had the Psalms and Lessons, and a sermon at home, to which they were very attentive; but you will not expect to hear that they did not return to conundrums the moment it was over. Their aunt has written pleasantly of them, which was more than I hoped.

While I write now, George is most industriously making and naming paper ships, at which he afterwards shoots with horse-chestnuts, brought from Steventon on purpose; and Edward equally intent over the "Lake of Killarney," twisting himself about in one of our great chairs.

Tuesday.—Your close-written letter makes me quite ashamed of my wide lines; you have sent me a great deal of matter, most of it very welcome. As to your lengthened stay, it is no more than I expected, and what must be, but you cannot suppose I like it.

All that you say of Edward is truly comfortable; I began to fear that when the bustle of the first week was over, his spirits might for a time be more depressed; and perhaps one must still expect something of the kind. If you escape a bilious attack, I shall wonder almost as much as rejoice. I am glad you mentioned where Catherine goes to-day; it is a good plan, but sensible people may generally be trusted to form such.

The day began cheerfully, but it is not likely to continue what it should, for them or for us. We had a little water-party yesterday; I and my two nephews went from the Itchen Ferry up to Northam, where we landed, looked into the 74, and walked home, and it was so much enjoyed that I had intended to take them to Netley to-day; the tide is just right for our going immediately after moonshine, but I am afraid there will be rain; if we cannot get so far, however, we may perhaps go round from the ferry to the quay.

I had not proposed doing more than cross the Itchen yesterday, but it proved so pleasant, and so much to the satisfaction of all, that when we reached the middle of the stream we agreed to be rowed up the river; both the boys rowed great part of the way, and their questions and remarks, as well as their enjoyment, were very amusing; George's inquiries were endless, and his eagerness in everything reminds me often of his uncle Henry.

Our evening was equally agreeable in its way: I introduced speculation, and it was so much approved that we hardly knew how to leave off.

Your idea of an early dinner to-morrow is exactly what we propose, for, after writing the first part of this letter, it came into my head that at this time of year we have not summer evenings. We shall watch the light to-day, that we may not give them a dark drive to-morrow.

They send their best love to papa and everybody, with George's thanks for the letter brought by this post. Martha begs my brother may be assured of her interest in everything relating to him and his family, and of her sincerely partaking our pleasure in the receipt of every good account from Godmersham.

Of Chawton I think I can have nothing more to say, but that everything you say about it in the letter now before me will, I am sure, as soon as I am able to read it to her, make my mother consider the plan with more and more pleasure. We had formed the same views on H. Digweed's farm.

A very kind and feeling letter is arrived to-day from Kintbury. Mrs. Fowle's sympathy and solicitude on such an occasion you will be able to do justice to, and to express it as she wishes to my brother. Concerning you, she says: "Cassandra will, I know, excuse my writing to her; it is not to save myself but her that I omit so doing. Give my best, my kindest love to her, and tell her I feel for her as I know she would for me on the same occasion, and that I most sincerely hope her health will not suffer."

We have just had two hampers of apples from Kintbury, and the floor of our little garret is almost covered. Love to all.

Yours very affectionately, J. A.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square, Sunday (November 21).

Your letter, my dear Cassandra, obliges me to write immediately, that you may have the earliest notice of Frank's intending, if possible, to go to Godmersham exactly at the time now fixed for your visit to Goodnestone.

He resolved, almost directly on the receipt of your former letter, to try for an extension of his leave of absence, that he might be able to go down to you for two days, but charged me not to give you any notice of it, on account of the uncertainty of success. Now, however, I must give it, and now perhaps he may be giving it himself; for I am just in the hateful predicament of being obliged to write what I know will somehow or other be of no use.

He meant to ask for five days more, and if they were granted, to go down by Thursday night's mail, and spend Friday and Saturday with you; and he considered his chance of succeeding by no means bad. I hope it will take place as he planned, and that your arrangements with Goodnestone may admit of suitable alteration.

Your news of Edward Bridges was quite news, for I have had no letter from Wrotham. I wish him happy with all my heart, and hope his choice may turn out according to his own expectations, and beyond those of his family; and I dare say it will. Marriage is a great improver, and in a similar situation Harriet may be as amiable as Eleanor. As to money, that will come, you may be sure, because they cannot do without it. When you see him again, pray give him our congratulations and best wishes. This match will certainly set John and Lucy going.

There are six bedchambers at Chawton; Henry wrote to my mother the other day, and luckily mentioned the number, which is just what we wanted to be assured of. He speaks also of garrets for store-places, one of which she immediately planned fitting up for Edward's man-servant; and now perhaps it must be for our own; for she is already quite reconciled to our keeping one. The difficulty of doing without one had been thought of before. His name shall be Robert, if you please.

Before I can tell you of it, you will have heard that Miss Sawbridge is married. It took place, I believe, on Thursday. Mrs. Fowle has for some time been in the secret, but the neighborhood in general were quite unsuspicious. Mr. Maxwell was tutor to the young Gregorys,—consequently, they must be one of the happiest couples in the world, and either of them worthy of envy, for she must be excessively in love, and he mounts from nothing to a comfortable home. Martha has heard him very highly spoken of. They continue for the present at Speen Hill.

I have a Southampton match to return for your Kentish one, Captain G. Heathcote and Miss A. Lyell. I have it from Alethea, and like it, because I had made it before.

Yes, the Stoneleigh business is concluded, but it was not till yesterday that my mother was regularly informed of it, though the news had reached us on Monday evening by way of Steventon. My aunt says as little as may be on the subject by way of information, and nothing at all by way of satisfaction. She reflects on Mr. T. Leigh's dilatoriness, and looks about with great diligence and success for inconvenience and evil, among which she ingeniously places the danger of her new housemaids catching cold on the outside of the coach, when she goes down to Bath, for a carriage makes her sick.

John Binns has been offered their place, but declines it; as she supposes, because he will not wear a livery. Whatever be the cause, I like the effect.

In spite of all my mother's long and intimate knowledge of the writer, she was not up to the expectation of such a letter as this; the discontentedness of it shocked and surprised her—but I see nothing in it out of nature, though a sad nature.

She does not forget to wish for Chambers, you may be sure. No particulars are given, not a word of arrears mentioned, though in her letter to James they were in a general way spoken of. The amount of them is a matter of conjecture, and to my mother a most interesting one; she cannot fix any time for their beginning with any satisfaction to herself but Mrs. Leigh's death, and Henry's two thousand pounds neither agrees with that period nor any other. I did not like to own our previous information of what was intended last July, and have therefore only said that if we could see Henry we might hear many particulars, as I had understood that some confidential conversation had passed between him and Mr. T. L. at Stoneleigh.

We have been as quiet as usual since Frank and Mary left us; Mr. Criswick called on Martha that very morning on his way home again from Portsmouth, and we have had no visitor since.

We called on the Miss Lyells one day, and heard a good account of Mr. Heathcote's canvass, the success of which, of course, exceeds his expectations. Alethea in her letter hopes for my interest, which I conclude means Edward's, and I take this opportunity, therefore, of requesting that he will bring in Mr. Heathcote. Mr. Lane told us yesterday that Mr. H. had behaved very handsomely, and waited on Mr. Thistlethwaite, to say that if he (Mr. T.) would stand, he (Mr. H.) would not oppose him; but Mr. T. declined it, acknowledging himself still smarting under the payment of late electioneering costs.

The Mrs. Hulberts, we learn from Kintbury, come to Steventon this week, and bring Mary Jane Fowle with them on her way to Mrs. Nune's; she returns at Christmas with her brother.

Our brother we may perhaps see in the course of a few days, and we mean to take the opportunity of his help to go one night to the play. Martha ought to see the inside of the theatre once while she lives in Southampton, and I think she will hardly wish to take a second view.

The furniture of Bellevue is to be sold to-morrow, and we shall take it in our usual walk, if the weather be favorable.

How could you have a wet day on Thursday? With us it was a prince of days, the most delightful we have had for weeks; soft, bright, with a brisk wind from the southwest; everybody was out and talking of spring, and Martha and I did not know how to turn back. On Friday evening we had some very blowing weather,—from six to nine; I think we never heard it worse, even here. And one night we had so much rain that it forced its way again into the store-closet; and though the evil was comparatively slight and the mischief nothing, I had some employment the next day in drying parcels, etc. I have now moved still more out of the way.

Martha sends her best love, and thanks you for admitting her to the knowledge of the pros and cons about Harriet Foote; she has an interest in all such matters. I am also to say that she wants to see you. Mary Jane missed her papa and mamma a good deal at first, but now does very well without them. I am glad to hear of little John's being better, and hope your accounts of Mrs. Knight will also improve. Adieu! remember me affectionately to everybody, and believe me,

Ever yours, J. A.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

It was the same room in which we danced fifteen years ago; I thought it all over, and in spite of the shame of being so much older, felt with thankfulness that I was quite as happy now as then. . . . You will not expect to hear that I was asked to dance, but I was.

Castle Square, Friday (December 9).

Many thanks, my dear Cassandra, to you and Mr. Deedes for your joint and agreeable composition, which took me by surprise this morning. He has certainly great merit as a writer; he does ample justice to his subject, and without being diffuse is clear and correct; and though I do not mean to compare his epistolary powers with yours, or to give him the same portion of my gratitude, he certainly has a very pleasing way of winding up a whole, and speeding truth into the world.

"But all this," as my dear Mrs. Piozzi says, "is flight and fancy and nonsense, for my master has his great casks to mind and I have my little children." It is you, however, in this instance, that have the little children, and I that have the great cask, for we are brewing spruce beer again; but my meaning really is, that I am extremely foolish in writing all this unnecessary stuff when I have so many matters to write about that my paper will hardly hold it all. Little matters they are, to be sure, but highly important.

In the first place, Miss Curling is actually at Portsmouth, which I was always in hopes would not happen. I wish her no worse, however, than a long and happy abode there. Here she would probably be dull, and I am sure she would be troublesome.

The bracelets are in my possession, and everything I could wish them to be. They came with Martha's pelisse, which likewise gives great satisfaction.

Soon after I had closed my last letter to you we were visited by Mrs. Dickens and her sister-in-law, Mrs. Bertie, the wife of a lately made Admiral. Mrs. F. A., I believe, was their first object, but they put up with us very kindly, and Mrs. D., finding in Miss Lloyd a friend of Mrs. Dundas, had another motive for the acquaintance. She seems a really agreeable woman,—that is, her manners are gentle, and she knows a great many of our connections in West Kent. Mrs. Bertie lives in the Polygon, and was out when we returned her visit, which are her two virtues.

A larger circle of acquaintance, and an increase of amusement, is quite in character with our approaching removal. Yes, I mean to go to as many balls as possible, that I may have a good bargain. Everybody is very much concerned at our going away, and everybody is acquainted with Chawton, and speaks of it as a remarkably pretty village, and everybody knows the house we describe, but nobody fixes on the right.

I am very much obliged to Mrs. Knight for such a proof of the interest she takes in me, and she may depend upon it that I will marry Mr. Papillon, whatever may be his reluctance or my own. I owe her much more than such a trifling sacrifice.

Our ball was rather more amusing than I expected. Martha liked it very much, and I did not gape till the last quarter of an hour. It was past nine before we were sent for, and not twelve when we returned. The room was tolerably full, and there were, perhaps, thirty couple of dancers. The melancholy part was to see so many dozen young women standing by without partners, and each of them with two ugly naked shoulders.

It was the same room in which we danced fifteen years ago. I thought it all over, and in spite of the shame of being so much older, felt with thankfulness that I was quite as happy now as then. We paid an additional shilling for our tea, which we took as we chose in an adjoining and very comfortable room.

There were only four dances, and it went to my heart that the Miss Lances (one of them, too, named Emma) should have partners only for two. You will not expect to hear that I was asked to dance, but I was—by the gentleman whom we met that Sunday with Captain D'Auvergne. We have always kept up a bowing acquaintance since, and, being pleased with his black eyes, I spoke to him at the ball, which brought on me this civility; but I do not know his name, and he seems so little at home in the English language that I believe his black eyes may be the best of him. Captain D'Auvergne has got a ship.

Martha and I made use of the very favorable state of yesterday for walking, to pay our duty at Chiswell. We found Mrs. Lance at home and alone, and sat out three other ladies who soon came in. We went by the ferry, and returned by the bridge, and were scarcely at all fatigued.

Edward must have enjoyed the last two days. You, I presume, had a cool drive to Canterbury. Kitty Foote came on Wednesday; and her evening visit began early enough for the last part, the apple-pie, of our dinner, for we never dine now till five.

Yesterday I—or rather, you—had a letter from Nanny Hilliard, the object of which is that she would be very much obliged to us if we would get Hannah a place. I am sorry that I cannot assist her; if you can, let me know, as I shall not answer the letter immediately. Mr. Sloper is married again, not much to Nanny's, or anybody's satisfaction. The lady was governess to Sir Robert's natural children, and seems to have nothing to recommend her. I do not find, however, that Nanny is likely to lose her place in consequence. She says not a word of what service she wishes for Hannah, or what Hannah can do; but a nursery, I suppose, or something of that kind, must be the thing.

Having now cleared away my smaller articles of news, I come to a communication of some weight; no less than that my uncle and aunt are going to allow James 100l. a year. We hear of it through Steventon. Mary sent us the other day an extract from my aunt's letter on the subject, in which the donation is made with the greatest kindness, and intended as a compensation for his loss in the conscientious refusal of Hampstead living; 100l. a year being all that he had at the time called its worth, as I find it was always intended at Steventon to divide the real income with Kintbury.

Nothing can be more affectionate than my aunt's language in making the present, and likewise in expressing her hope of their being much more together in future than, to her great regret, they have of late years been. My expectations for my mother do not rise with this event. We will allow a little more time, however, before we fly out.

If not prevented by parish business, James comes to us on Monday. The Mrs. Hulberts and Miss Murden are their guests at present, and likely to continue such till Christmas. Anna comes home on the 19th. The hundred a year begins next Lady-day.

I am glad you are to have Henry with you again; with him and the boys you cannot but have a cheerful, and at times even a merry, Christmas. Martha is so [MSS. torn]. . . . We want to be settled at Chawton in time for Henry to come to us for some shooting in October, at least, or a little earlier, and Edward may visit us after taking his boys back to Winchester. Suppose we name the 4th of September. Will not that do?

I have but one thing more to tell you. Mrs. Hill called on my mother yesterday while we were gone to Chiswell, and in the course of the visit asked her whether she knew anything of a clergyman's family of the name of Alford, who had resided in our part of Hampshire. Mrs. Hill had been applied to as likely to give some information of them on account of their probable vicinity to Dr. Hill's living by a lady, or for a lady, who had known Mrs. and the two Miss Alfords in Bath, whither they had removed it seems from Hampshire, and who now wishes to convey to the Miss Alfords some work or trimming which she has been doing for them; but the mother and daughters have left Bath, and the lady cannot learn where they are gone to. While my mother gave us the account, the probability of its being ourselves occurred to us, and it had previously struck herself ... what makes it more likely, and even indispensably to be us, is that she mentioned Mr. Hammond as now having the living or curacy which the father had had. I cannot think who our kind lady can be, but I dare say we shall not like the work.

Distribute the affectionate love of a heart not so tired as the right hand belonging to it.

Yours ever sincerely, J. A.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.

Castle Square, Tuesday (December 27).

My dear Cassandra,—I can now write at leisure and make the most of my subjects, which is lucky, as they are not numerous this week.

Our house was cleared by half-past eleven on Saturday, and we had the satisfaction of hearing yesterday that the party reached home in safety soon after five.

I was very glad of your letter this morning; for, my mother taking medicine, Eliza keeping her bed with a cold, and Choles not coming, made us rather dull and dependent on the post. You tell me much that gives me pleasure, but I think not much to answer. I wish I could help you in your needlework. I have two hands and a new thimble that lead a very easy life.

Lady Sondes' match surprises, but does not offend me; had her first marriage been of affection, or had there been a grown-up single daughter, I should not have forgiven her; but I consider everybody as having a right to marry once in their lives for love, if they can, and provided she will now leave off having bad headaches and being pathetic, I can allow her, I can wish her, to be happy.

Do not imagine that your picture of your tête-à-tête with Sir B. makes any change in our expectations here; he could not be really reading, though he held the newspaper in his hand; he was making up his mind to the deed, and the manner of it. I think you will have a letter from him soon.

I heard from Portsmouth yesterday, and as I am to send them more clothes, they cannot be expecting a very early return to us. Mary's face is pretty well, but she must have suffered a great deal with it; an abscess was formed and opened.

Our evening party on Thursday produced nothing more remarkable than Miss Murden's coming too, though she had declined it absolutely in the morning, and sitting very ungracious and very silent with us from seven o'clock till half after eleven, for so late was it, owing to the chairmen, before we got rid of them.

The last hour, spent in yawning and shivering in a wide circle round the fire, was dull enough, but the tray had admirable success. The widgeon and the preserved ginger were as delicious as one could wish. But as to our black butter, do not decoy anybody to Southampton by such a lure, for it is all gone. The first pot was opened when Frank and Mary were here, and proved not at all what it ought to be; it was neither solid nor entirely sweet, and on seeing it, Eliza remembered that Miss Austen had said she did not think it had been boiled enough. It was made, you know, when we were absent. Such being the event of the first pot, I would not save the second, and we therefore ate it in unpretending privacy; and though not what it ought to be, part of it was very good.

James means to keep three horses on this increase of income; at present he has but one. Mary wishes the other two to be fit to carry women, and in the purchase of one Edward will probably be called upon to fulfil his promise to his godson. We have now pretty well ascertained James's income to be eleven hundred pounds, curate paid, which makes us very happy,—the ascertainment as well as the income.

Mary does not talk of the garden; it may well be a disagreeable subject to her, but her husband is persuaded that nothing is wanting to make the first new one good but trenching, which is to be done by his own servants and John Bond, by degrees, not at the expense which trenching the other amounted to.

I was happy to hear, chiefly for Anna's sake, that a ball at Manydown was once more in agitation; it is called a child's ball, and given by Mrs. Heathcote to Wm. Such was its beginning at least, but it will probably swell into something more. Edward was invited during his stay at Manydown, and it is to take place between this and Twelfth-day. Mrs. Hulbert has taken Anna a pair of white shoes on the occasion.

I forgot in my last to tell you that we hear, by way of Kintbury and the Palmers, that they were all well at Bermuda in the beginning of Nov.

Wednesday.—Yesterday must have been a day of sad remembrance at Gm. I am glad it is over. We spent Friday evening with our friends at the boarding-house, and our curiosity was gratified by the sight of their fellow-inmates, Mrs. Drew and Miss Hook, Mr. Wynne and Mr. Fitzhugh; the latter is brother to Mrs. Lance, and very much the gentleman. He has lived in that house more than twenty years, and, poor man! is so totally deaf that they say he could not hear a cannon, were it fired close to him; having no cannon at hand to make the experiment, I took it for granted, and talked to him a little with my fingers, which was funny enough. I recommended him to read "Corinna."

Miss Hook is a well-behaved, genteelish woman; Mrs. Drew well behaved, without being at all genteel. Mr. Wynne seems a chatty and rather familiar young man. Miss Murden was quite a different creature this last evening from what she had been before, owing to her having with Martha's help found a situation in the morning, which bids very fair for comfort. When she leaves Steventon, she comes to board and lodge with Mrs. Hookey, the chemist—for there is no Mr. Hookey. I cannot say that I am in any hurry for the conclusion of her present visit, but I was truly glad to see her comfortable in mind and spirits; at her age, perhaps, one may be as friendless oneself, and in similar circumstances quite as captious.

My mother has been lately adding to her possessions in plate,—a whole tablespoon and a whole dessert-spoon, and six whole teaspoons,—which makes our sideboard border on the magnificent. They were mostly the produce of old or useless silver. I have turned the 11s. in the list into 12s., and the card looks all the better; a silver tea-ladle is also added, which will at least answer the purpose of making us sometimes think of John Warren.

I have laid Lady Sondes' case before Martha, who does not make the least objection to it, and is particularly pleased with the name of Montresor. I do not agree with her there, but I like his rank very much, and always affix the ideas of strong sense and highly elegant manners to a general.

I must write to Charles next week. You may guess in what extravagant terms of praise Earle Harwood speaks of him. He is looked up to by everybody in all America.

I shall not tell you anything more of Wm. Digweed's china, as your silence on the subject makes you unworthy of it. Mrs. H. Digweed looks forward with great satisfaction to our being her neighbors. I would have her enjoy the idea to the utmost, as I suspect there will not be much in the reality. With equal pleasure we anticipate an intimacy with her husband's bailiff and his wife, who live close by us, and are said to be remarkably good sort of people.

Yes, yes, we will have a pianoforte, as good a one as can be got for thirty guineas, and I will practise country dances, that we may have some amusement for our nephews and nieces, when we have the pleasure of their company.

Martha sends her love to Henry, and tells him that he will soon have a bill of Miss Chaplin's, about 14l., to pay on her account; but the bill shall not be sent in till his return to town. I hope he comes to you in good health, and in spirits as good as a first return to Godmersham can allow. With his nephews he will force himself to be cheerful, till he really is so. Send me some intelligence of Eliza; it is a long while since I have heard of her.

We have had snow on the ground here almost a week; it is now going, but Southampton must boast no longer. We all send our love to Edward junior and his brothers, and I hope Speculation is generally liked.

Fare you well.

Yours affectionately, J. Austen.

My mother has not been out of doors this week, but she keeps pretty well. We have received through Bookham an indifferent account of your godmother.

Miss Austen, Edward Austen's, Esq., Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.