They are returned from the Continent, it seems, and are now
at Torquay. The first note touched me a little by what I thought its
subdued tone; I trusted her character might be greatly improved.
There were, indeed, traces of the "old Adam," but such as I was
willing to overlook. I answered her soon and kindly. In reply I
received to-day a longish letter, full of clap-trap sentiment and
humbugging attempts at fine writing. In each production the old
trading spirit peeps out; she asks for autographs. It seems she had
read in some paper that I was staying with Miss Martineau; thereupon
she applies for specimens of her handwriting, and Wordsworth's, and
Southey's, and my own. The account of her health, if given by any
one else, would grieve and alarm me. She talks of fearing that her
constitution is almost broken by repeated trials, and intimates a
doubt as to whether she shall live long: but, remembering her of old,
I have good hopes that this may be a mistake. Her "beloved papa and
mama" and her "precious sister," she says, are living, and "gradely."
(That last is my word. I don't know whether they use it in Birstall
as they do here--it means in a middling way.)
'You are to say no more about "Jupiter" and "Venus"--what do you mean
by such heathen trash? The fact is, no fallacy can be wilder, and I
won't have it hinted at even in jest, because my common sense laughs
it to scorn.
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