Classic Audiobook Collection - The Letters of Jane Austen by Jane Austen ~ Full Audiobook [biography]

Episode Date: June 17, 2023

The Letters of Jane Austen by Jane Austen audiobook. Genre: biography This recording includes a selection of Jane Austen's letters, edited by Susan Coolidge and chosen from the collection of Austen's great-nephew, Edward, Lord Brabourne. The letters are mostly addressed to Austen's sister Cassandra, with whom she was very close. There are also some letters written to two of her nieces, Anna Austen Lefroy and Fanny Knight. They include some references to her published work, including Sense and Sensibility (abbreviated 'S and S'), Pride and Prejudice (also called First Impressions, or P and P), Mansfield Park ('MP') and Emma. They are also replete with details about her family life, including the extended families and careers of her brothers, James, Edward, Frank, Henry, and Charles. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 00 (00:11:43) Chapter 01 (00:21:07) Chapter 02 (00:30:48) Chapter 03 (00:41:58) Chapter 04 (00:56:49) Chapter 05 (01:07:45) Chapter 06 (01:21:55) Chapter 07 (01:33:27) Chapter 08 (01:45:01) Chapter 09 (01:55:08) Chapter 10 (02:11:41) Chapter 11 (02:26:31) Chapter 12 (02:42:34) Chapter 13 (02:59:15) Chapter 14 (03:15:01) Chapter 15 (03:28:55) Chapter 16 (03:47:28) Chapter 17 (04:04:26) Chapter 18 (04:15:33) Chapter 19 (04:35:20) Chapter 20 (04:44:17) Chapter 21 (05:08:54) Chapter 22 (05:24:07) Chapter 23 (05:39:30) Chapter 24 (05:50:51) Chapter 25 (06:04:00) Chapter 26 (06:15:14) Chapter 27 (06:28:39) Chapter 28 (06:40:16) Chapter 29 (06:51:32) Chapter 30 (07:02:57) Chapter 31 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Letters of Jane Austen, selected from the compilation of her great-nephew, Edward Lord Brabairn, by Sarah Chauncey Wolsey. Preface The recent cult for Miss Austin, which has resulted in no less than ten new editions of her novels within a decade, and three memoirs by different hands within as many years, have made the facts of her life familiar to most readers. It was a short life. and an uneventful one as viewed from the standpoint of our modern times, when steam and electricity have linked together the ends of the earth, and the very air seems teeming with news, agitations, discussions. We have barely time to recover our breath between post and post,

and the morning paper with its statements of disaster, and its hints of still greater evils to be, is scarcely outlived, when low, in comes the evening issue, contradicting the news of the morning to be sure, but full of omens and auguries of its own to strew our pillows with the seed of wakefulness. To us publications come hot and hot from the press. Telegraphic wires like the intricate and incalculable zigzags of the lightning ramify above our heads. And who can tell at what moment their darts may strike? In Miss Austen's day, the tranquil, drowsy, decorous English day of

a century since, all was different. News travelled then from hand to hand, carried in creaking post-wagons, or in cases of extreme urgency by men on horseback. When a gentleman journeying in his own shes took three days in going from Exeter to London, a distance now covered in three hours of railroad, there was little chance of frequent surprises. Love, sorrow, and death were in the world then as now, and worked their will upon the sons of men. But, people did not expect happenings every day or even every year. No doubt they lived the longer for this exemption from excitement, and kept their nerves in a state of wholesome repair, but it goes without saying that the events of which they knew so little did not stir them deeply.

Miss Austin's life coincided with two of the most momentous epochs of history, the American struggle for independence, and the French Revolution. But there is scarcely an allusion to either in her letters. She was interested in the fleet and its victories, because two of her brothers were in the Navy, and had promotion and prize money to look forward to. In this connection she mentions Trafalgar and the Egyptian expedition, and generously remarks that she would read Southie's Life of Nelson if there was anything in it about her brother Frank. She honours Sir John Moore by remarking after his death that if his mother would perhaps have preferred to have him less distinguished and still alive. Further than that, the making of the goose-breed jam and a good

recipe for orange wine interests her more than all the marchings and counter-marchings, the manoeuvres and diplomacies going on the world over. In the midst of the universal vortex of fear and hope, triumph and defeat, while the fate of Britain and British liberty hung trembling in the balance, she sits writing her letters, trimming her caps, and discussing small beer with her sister, in a lively and unruffled fashion wonderful to contemplate. The Society of Rural England in those days, as Mr. Goldman Smith happily puts it, enjoyed a calm of its own in the midst of the European tempest, like the windless centre of a circular storm. The point of view of a woman with such an environment must naturally be circumscribed and narrow, and in this Miss Austen's

charm consists. Seeing little, she painted what she saw with an absolute. fidelity, and a dexterity and perfection unequalled. On her was bestowed, though in a humble form, the gift which had been bestowed on Homer, Shakespeare, Servantes, Scott, and a few others, the gift of creative power. Endowed with the keenest and most delicate insight and a vivid sense of humor, she depicted with exactitude which she observed, and what she understood, giving to each fact and emotion its precise shade and value. The thing she did not see she did not attempt, affectation was impossible to her, most of all affectation of knowledge or feeling not justly her own. She held the mirror up to her time, with an exquisite sincerity and fidelity, and the

closeness of her study brought her intimately near to those hidden springs which underlie all human nature. This is the reason why, for all their skimp skirts, leg of mutton sleeves, and bygone impossible bonnets, her characters do not seem to us old-fashioned. Minds and hearts are made pretty much after the same pattern from century to century, and given a modern dress and speech, Emma or Elizabeth, or dear Anne Elliot, could enter a drawing-room today, and excite no surprise, except by so closely resembling the people whom they would find there. Miss Austin's novels are dateless things, Mr. Augustine Borell tells us. Nobody in his senses would speak of them as old novels. John Inglisant is an old novel, so is Ginks's baby.

But Emma is quite new, and like a wise woman, affords few clues to her age. We allude with a special touch of affection to Anne Elliott. Persuasion, which was written during the last two years of Miss Austen's life, when the refining touch of eternity was already upon her, has always seemed to us the most perfect of her novels. And Anne, with her exquisite breeding and unselfish straightforwardness, just touched with the tender reserve of memory and regret, one of her best portraitures. But this is a matter of individual taste. doubtless Elizabeth Bennett is better fun, as the modern girl would say.

Miss Austin herself preferred her. She had a droll and pretty way of talking about her characters, which showed how real they were to her own mind, and made them equally real to other people. In 1813 she had the good luck to light upon a portrait of Jane Bennett at an exhibition. "'I was very well pleased,' prayed Hal Fanny, with a small portrait of Mrs. Bingley, excessively like her. I went in hopes of seeing one of her sister, but there was no Mrs. Darcy.

Perhaps I may find her in the great exhibition, which we shall go to if we have time. Mrs. Bingley's is exactly like herself, size, shaped face, features, and sweetness. There never was a greater likeness. She is dressed in a white gown with green ornaments, which convinces me of what I had always supposed, that green was a favourite colour with her. I dare say Mrs. D. will be in yellow. And later. We have been both to the exhibition and Sir J. Reynolds's,

and I am disappointed, for there was nothing like Mrs. D. either. I can only imagine that Mr. D. prizes any picture of her too much to like it, should it be exposed to the public eye. I can imagine he would have that sort of feeling, that mixture of love, pride, and delicacy. The letters included in this series comprise about three-quarters of the collection, in two volumes, published in 1884 by her great-nephew, Lord Brabairn. The lightness, almost friskiness of their tone cannot fail to strike the reader. Modern letters written by women are filled more or less with hints and queries. Questionings as to the why and the wherefore occur. Allusions to the various fads of the day, literary or artistic. Ibson, Tolstoy, Brown, reasoning, esoteric Buddhism, Wagner's music, the mind cure, social science, causes, and reforms. But Cowper and Crab were the poetical sensations in Miss Austen's time—scott and Byron its phenomenal novelties. It took months to get most books printed, and years to persuade anybody

to read them. Furthermore, the letters, in all probability, are carefully chosen to reveal only the more superficial side of their writer. There are wide gaps of omission. covering important events such as Mr. Austin's death, the long illness through which Jane nursed her brother Henry, and the anxieties and worries which his failure in business caused to the whole family. What is vouchsafed us is a glimpse of the girlish and untroubled moments of Miss Austin's life, and the glimpse is a sweet and friendly one. We are glad to have it, in spite of our suspicion that another and even more interesting part of her personality is withheld from us. A good daughter, a delightful sister, the most perfect of aunts!

What better record could there be of a single woman? Her literary work never stood in the way of her home duties, any more than her quiet, limpid, unimpassioned style stood between her thought and her readers. Her fame may justly be said to be almost entirely posthumous. She was read and praised to a moderate degree during her lifetime, but all her novels together bought her no more than seven hundred pounds, and her reputation, as it were, was in its close sheathed bud, when at the early age of forty-one she died. It would have excited in her an amused incredulity, no doubt, had anyone predicted that two generations after her death the

real recognition of her powers was to come. Time, which, like Desert Sands has effaced the footprints of so many promising authors, has with her served as the desert wind to blow aside those dusts of the commonplace, which for a while concealed her true proportions. She is loved more than she ever hoped to be, and far more widely known. Mrs. Ritchie tells somewhere an anecdote of a party of seven assembled at a dinner-table, where the question arose of the locality of one of Miss Austen's places—Mapel Grove—the residence of Mr. Suckling, if we are not mistaken, and six of the persons present at once recognized the illusion, and had a formed opinion on the subject. The seventh was a Frenchman who did not read English.

Scott, Macaulay, Sir James Macintosh, Miss Martinoe, Mrs. Ritchie, Miss Mitford, and a host of others have vied in their generous tributes of admiration. But most striking of all to our thinking is that paid to Miss Austin by Lord Tennyson, when, in some visit to Lyme not many years since, those with him pointed out this and the other feature of the place, only to be interrupted with. Never mind all that. Show me the exact spot where Louisa Musgrove fell. Could non-historical verisimilitude go farther or mean more? SCW. Newport, June 1892.

End of Preface. Section 1 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clatt. The letters of Jane Austen Letter 1 Stephenton Thursday, January 16th, 1796

I have just received yours and Mary's letter, and I thank you both, though their contents might have been more agreeable. I do not at all expect to see you on Tuesday, since matters have fallen out so unpleasantly, and if you are not able to return till after that day, it will hardly be possible for us to send for you before Saturday, though for my own part I care so little about the ball that it would be no sacrifice to me to give it up for the sake of seeing you two days earlier.

We are extremely sorry for poor Eliza's illness. I trust, however, that she has continued to recover since you wrote, and that you will none of you be the worse for your attendance on her. What a good-for-nothing fellow, Charles, is to bespeak the stockings. I hope he will be too hot all the rest of his life for it. I sent you a letter yesterday to Ibbthorpe, which I suppose you will not receive at Kintbury. It was not very long, or very witty, and, therefore, if you never receive it, it does not much signify. I wrote principally to tell you that the Coopers were arrived and in good health.

The little boy is very like Dr. Cooper, and the little girl is to resemble Jane, they say. Our party to Ash to-morrow night will consist of Edward Cooper, James, for a ball is nothing. without him, Bulla, who is now staying with us, and I. I look forward with great impatience to it, as I rather expect to receive an offer from my friend in the course of the evening. I shall refuse him, however, unless he promises to give away his white coat. I am very much flattered by your commendation of my last letter, for I write only for fame, and without any view to pecuniary emolument. Edward has gone to spend the day with his friend John Lifford, and is not returned till to-morrow.

Anna is now here. She came up in her shares to spend the day with her young cousins, but she does not much take to them, or to anything about them, except Caroline's spinning-wheel. I am very glad to find from Mary that Mr. and Mrs. Fowl are pleased with you. I hope you will continue to give satisfaction. How impertinent you are to write to me about Tom,

as if I had not opportunities of hearing from him myself. The last letter that I received from him was dated, on Friday the 8th, and he told me that if the wind should be favourable on Sunday, which it proved to be, they were to sail from Falmouth on that day. By this time, therefore, they are at Barbados, I suppose. The rivers are still at many down, and are to be at Ash to-morrow. I intended to call on the Miss Biggs yesterday, had the weather been tolerable. Caroline, Anna, and I have just been devouring some cold sous, and it would be difficult to say which enjoyed it most.

"'Tell Mary that I make over Mr. Hartley and all his estate to her for her sole use and benefit in future, and not only him, but all my other admirers into the bargain, wherever she can find them. Even the kiss which C. Powlett wanted to give me, as I mean to confine myself in future to Mr. Tom Lefroy, for whom I don't care sixpence. Assure her also as a last and indubitable proof of Warren's indifference to me, that he actually drew that gentleman's picture for me, and delivered her. it to me without a sigh. Friday. At length the day is come on which I am to flirt my last with Tom Lefroy, and when you receive this it will be over. My tears flow as I write at the melancholy idea. William Schute called here yesterday. I wonder what he means by being so civil. There is a report that Tom is going to be married to a Litchfield, Lass. John Lifford and his sister bring Edward home today, dine with us, and we shall all go together to Ash. I understand that we are to draw for partners. I shall be extremely impatient to hear from you again, that I may know how Eliza is, and when you are to return. With best love, etc., I am affectionately yours, J. Austin.

To Miss Austin, the Reverend Mr. Fowles, Kintbury, Newbury. Letter two. Cork Street, Tuesday morn, August 1796. My dear Cassandra, here I am once more in this scene of dissipation and vice, and I begin already to find my morals corrupted. We reached stains yesterday, I do not know when, without suffering so much from the heat as I had hoped to do. We set off again this morning at seven o'clock, and had a very pleasant drive, as the morning was cloudy and perfectly cool. I came all the way in the sheds from Hartford Bridge. Edward and Frank are both gone out to seek their fortunes. The latter is to return soon, and help us seek ours.

The former we shall never see again. We are to be at Astley's tonight, which I am glad of. Edward has heard from Henry this morning. He has not been at the races at all, unless his driving Miss Pearson over to Rowling one day can be so called. We shall find him there on Thursday. I hope you're all alone. after a melancholy parting yesterday, and that you pursued your intended avocation with

success. God bless you. I must leave off, for we are going out. Yours very affectionately, J. Austin. Everybody's love. Letter 3. Rowling, Monday, September 5th. My dear Cassandra, I shall be extremely anxious to hear the event of your ball, and shall hope to receive so long and my Newton account of every particular, that I shall be tired of reading it. Let me know how many, besides their fourteen selves, and Mr. and Mrs. Wright, Michael will contrive a place about their coach, and how many of the gentlemen, musicians, and waiters he will have persuaded to come in their shooting jackets. I hope John Lovett's accident will not prevent his attending the ball,

as you will otherwise be obliged to dance with Mr. Tington the whole evening. Let me know how Jay Harwood deports himself. without the Miss Biggs, and which of the Marys will carry the day with my brother James. We were at a ball on Saturday, I assure you. We dined at Goodnaston, and in the evening danced two country dances and the boulangerie. I opened the ball with Edward Bridges. The other couples were Louis Cage and Harriet, Frank and Louisa, Fanny and George. Elizabeth played one country dance, Lady Bridges the other, which she made Henry dance with her, and Miss Finch played the boulangerie.

In reading over the last three or four lines, I am aware of my having expressed myself in so doubtful a manner that if I did not tell you to the contrary, you might imagine it was Lady Bridges who made Henry dance with her at the same time that she was playing, which, if not impossible, must appear a very improbable event to you. But it was Elizabeth who danced. We supped there, and walked home at night under the shade of two umbrellas.

Today the Goodnestown Party begins to disperse and spread itself abroad. Mr. and Mrs. Cage and George repair to hive. Lady Waltham, Miss Bridges and Miss Mary Finch to Dover, for the health of the two former. I have never seen Marianne at all. On Thursday Mr. and Mrs. Bridges returned to Danbury. Miss Harriet Hales accompanies them to London on her way to Dorsetshire. Farmer Claring-Bould died this morning, and I fancy Edward needs to get some of his farm. If he can cheat Sir Brooke enough in the agreement.

We have just got some venison from Godmisham, which the two Mr. Harvey's are to dine on tomorrow, and on Friday or Saturday the goodness in people are to finish their scraps. Henry went away on Friday, as he purposed, without fail. You will hear from him soon, I imagine, as he talked of writing to Steventon shortly. Mr. Richard Harvey is going to be married, but as it is a great secret, and only known to half the neighbourhood,

you must not mention it. The lady's name is Musgrave. I am in great distress. I cannot determine whether I shall give Rishi half a guinea or only five shillings when I go away. Counsel me, amiable, Miss Austen, and tell me which will be the most. We walked Frank last night to Crixel Ruff, and he appeared much edified. Little Edward was breached yesterday for good and all, and was whipped into the bargain. in. Pray remember me to everybody who does not inquire after me. Those who do remember me without bidding. Give my love to Mary Harrison, and tell her I wish, whenever she is attached to a young man, some respectable Dr. Marchmont may keep them apart for five volumes.

End of Section 1. Section 2 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clutt Letter 4 Rowling Thursday September 15th My dear Cassandra

We've been very gay since I wrote last Dining at Nackington Returning by Moonlight And everything quite in style Not to mention Mr. Claringbold's funeral Which we saw go by on Sunday I believe I told you in a former letter That Edward had some idea of taking the name of Claringbold

But that scheme is over. Though it would be a very eligible as well as a very pleasant plan, would anyone advance him money enough to begin on? We rather expected Mr. Miles to have done so on Tuesday, but to our great surprise nothing was said on the subject, and unless it is in your power to assist your brother with five or six hundred pounds, he must entirely give up the idea. At Nackington we met Lady Sond's picture over the mantelpiece in the dining-room, and the pictures of her three children in an ante-room, besides Mr. Scott, Miss Fletcher, Mr. Toke, Mr. J. Toke, and the Archdeacon Lynch. Miss Fletcher and I were very thick, but I am the thinnest of the two. She wore her purple muslin, which is pretty enough, though it does not become her complexion.

There are two traits in her character which are pleasing, namely she admires Camilla, and drinks no cream in her tea. If you should ever see Lucy, you may tell her that I scolded Miss Fletcher for her negligence in writing, as she desired me to do, but without being able to bring her to any proper sense of shame. That Miss Fletcher says in her defence, that as everybody whom Lucy knew when she was in Canterbury has now left it, she has nothing at all to write to her about. By everybody I suppose Miss Fletcher means that a new set of officers have arrived there. But this is a note of my own. Mrs. Miles, Mr. John Toke, and in short everybody of any sensibility inquired and tender strains after you, and I took an opportunity of assuring Mr. J. T. that neither he nor his father need longer keep themselves single for you.

We went in our two carriages to Nackington, but how divided I shall leave to you to surmise! merely observing that, as Elizabeth and I were without either hat or bonnet, it would not have been very convenient, for us to go in the shares. We went by Bifference, and I contemplated with a melancholy pleasure the abode of him on whom I once fondly doated. We dined to-day at Goodneson, to meet my aunt Fielding from Margaret, and a Mr. Clayton, her professed admirer, at least so I imagine. Lady Bridges has received very good accounts of Marianne, who was already certainly the

better for her bathing. So, his royal highness Sir Thomas Williams, has been a very good account. at length sailed, the papers say, on a cruise. But I hope they are gone to Cork, or I shall have written in vain. Give my love to Jane, as she arrived at Steventon yesterday, I dare say. I sent a message to Mr. Digweed from Edward, in a letter to Mary Lloyd which she ought to receive to-day. But as I know that the Harwoods are not very exact as to their letters, I may as well repeat it to you. Mr. Dig-weed is to be informed that illness has prevented

sewers coming over to look at the repairs and tended at the farm, but that he will come as soon as he can. Mr. Digweed may also be informed, if you think proper, that Mr. and Mrs. Miles are to dine here to-morrow, and that Mrs. Joan Natchpaws to be asked to meet them. Mr. Richard Harvey's match is put off till he has got a better Christian name, of which he has great hopes. Mr. Children's two sons are both going to be married, John and George. They are to have one wife between them, a Miss Holwell, who belongs to the black hole at Calcutta. I depend on hearing from James very soon. He promised me in account of the ball, and by this time he must have collected his ideas

enough after the fatigue of dancing to give me one." Edward and Fly went out yesterday very early, in a couple of shooting-jackets, and came home like a couple of bad shots, for they killed nothing at all. They are out again to-day, and are not yet to-day. turned. Delightful sport. They had just come home, Edward with his two brace, Frank with his two and a half. What amiable young men! Friday. Your letter and one from Henry had just come, and the contents of both are accord with my scheme more than I dared expect. In one particular I could wish it otherwise,

for Henry is very indifferent indeed. You must not expect us quite so early, however, as Wednesday the twentieth. On that day, sun-night, according to our present plan, we may be with you. Frank had never any idea of going away before Monday the 26th. I shall write to Miss Mason immediately, and press her returning with us, which Henry thinks very likely, and particularly eligible. Buy Mary Harrison's gown by all means. You shall have mine for ever so much money. Though if I am tolerably rich when I get home, I shall like it very much. much myself." As to the mode of our travelling to town, I want to go in a stage-coach, but Frank will not let me.

As you are likely to have the Williams and Lloyds with you next week, you would hardly find room for us then. If anyone wants anything in town, they must send their commissions to Frank, as I shall merely pass through it. The tallow Chandler is Penlington, at the Crown and Beehive, Charles Street, Covent Garden. Letter 5. Rowling, Sunday, September 18th.

My dear Cassandra, this morning has been spent in doubt and deliberation, informing plans and removing difficulties, for it ushered in the day with an event which I had not intended should take place so soon by a week. Frank has received his appointment on board the Captain John Gore, commanded by the Triton, and will therefore be obliged to be in town on Wednesday. And though I have every disposition the world to accompany him on that day, I cannot go, on the uncertainty of the Pearson's being at home, as I should not have a place to go to in case they were from home." I wrote to Miss P. on Friday, and hoped to receive an answer from her this morning, which

would have rendered everything smooth and easy, and would have enabled us to leave this place to-morrow, as Frank, on first receiving his appointment, intended to do. He remained till Wednesday merely to accommodate me. I have written to her again today, and desired her to answer it by return of post. On Tuesday, therefore, I shall positively know whether they can receive me on Wednesday. If they cannot, Edward has been so good as to promise to take me to Greenwich on the Monday following, which was the day before fixed on, if that suits them better. If I have no answer at all on Tuesday, I must suppose Mary is not at home, and mustn't wait till I do here, as after having invited her to go to steventon with me, it will not quite do to go home and say no more about it.

My father will be so good as to fetch home his prodigal daughter from town, I hope, unless he wishes me to walk the hospitals, enter at the temple, or Mount Gard at St. James's. It will hardly be in Frank's power to take me home. Nay, it certainly will not. I shall write again as soon as I get to Greenwich. What dreadful hot weather we have! it keeps one in a continual state of inelegance. If Miss Pearson should return with me, pray be careful not to expect too much beauty.

I will not pretend to say that on a first view she quite answered the opinion I had formed of her. My mother, I am sure, will be disappointed if she does not take great care. From what I remember of her picture, it is no great resemblance. I am very glad that the idea of returning with Frank occurred to me, for as to Henry's coming into Kent again. The time of its taking place is so very uncertain that I should be waiting for dead men's shoes. I had once determined to go with Frank to-morrow and take my chance, etc., but they dissuaded me from so rash a step, as I really think on consideration it would have been. For if the Pearsons were not at home, I should inevitably fall a sacrifice to the arts of some fat woman who would make me drunk with small beer."

Mary is brought to bed of a boy, both doing very well. I shall leave you to guess what Mary I mean. Adieu, with best love to all your agreeable inmates. Don't let the Lloyds go on any account before I return, unless Miss P. is of the party. How ill I have written! I begin to hate myself. Yours ever, Jay Austin. The Triton is a new 32 frigate, just launch at Deptford.

Frank is much pleased with the prospect of having Captain Gore under his command. End of Section 2. Section 3 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clett Letter 6 Boland George, Dartford Wednesday, October 24th, 1798.

My dear Cassandra, You have already heard from Daniel, I conclude, In what excellent time we reached and quitted sitting-boy. and how very well my mother bore her journey thither. I am now able to send you a continuation of the same good account of her. She was very little fatigued on her arrival at this place, has been refreshed by a comfortable dinner, and now seems quite stout. It wanted five minutes of twelve when we left Sittingbourne, from whence we had a famous pair

of horses, which took us to Rochester in an hour and a quarter. The post-boy seemed determined to show my mother that Kentish drivers were not always tedious, and really drove as fast as cacks. Our next stage was not quite so expeditiously performed. The road was heavy, and our horses very indifferent. However, we were in such good time, and my mother bore her journey so well, that expedition was of little importance to us, and as it was, we were very little more than two hours and a half coming hither, and it was scarcely passed four when we stopped at the inn.

My mother took some of her bitters at Ospring, and some more at Rochester, and she ate some some bread several times. We have got apartments up to two pair of stairs, as we could not be otherwise accommodated with a sitting-room and bed-chambers on the same floor which we wished to be. We have one double-bedded and one single-bedded room. In the former my mother and I are to sleep. I shall leave you to guess who is to occupy the other. We sat down to dinner a little after five, and had some beef-steaks, and a

boiled fowl, but no oyster sauce. I should have become my letter soon after our arrival, but for a little adventure which prevented me. After we had been here a quarter of an hour, it was discovered that my writing and dressing-boxes had been by accident put into a chaise, which was just packing off as we came in, and were driven away toward Gravesend and in their way to the West Indies. No part of my property could have been such a prize before, for in my writing-box was all my worldly wealth, seven pounds, and my dear Harry's deputation. Mr. Notley immediately dispatched a man and horse after the shes, and in a half an hour's time I had the pleasure of being as rich as ever. They were got about two or three miles off.

My day's journey has been pleasanter in every respect than I expected. I've been very little crowded, and by no means unhappy. Your watchfulness with regard to the weather on our accounts was very kind and very effectual. We had one heavy shower on leaving sitting-born, but afterwards the clouds cleared away, and we had a very bright crystal afternoon. My father is now reading the midnight bell, which he has got from the library, and my mother sitting by the fire. Our route to-morrow is not determined. We have none of us much inclination for London. And if Mr. Notley will give us leave, I think we shall go to Stain's through Croydon and Kingston. It will be much more.

pleasanter than any other way, but he is decidedly for Clapham and Battersea. God bless you all. Yours affectionately, J.A. I flatter myself that Itty-Dawdy will not forget me, at least under a week. Kiss him for me. Letter 7. Steventon, Saturday, October 27th. My dear Cassandra.

Your letter was a most agreeable surprise to me to-day, and I have taken a lot of long sheet of paper to show my gratitude. We arrived here yesterday between four and five, but I cannot send you quite so triumphant in account of our last day's journey as of the first and second. Soon after I had finished my letter from Staines, my mother began to suffer from the exercise or fatigue of travelling, and she was a good deal and disposed. She had not a very good night at Staines, but bore her journey better than I had expected, and at Basingstoke, where we stopped more than half an hour, received much a very good night. comfort from a mess of broth, and the sight of Mr. Lyford, who recommended her to take twelve

drops of Lordenum when she went to bed as a composer, which she accordingly did. James called on us just as we were going to tea, and my mother was well enough to talk very cheerfully to him before she went to bed. James, it seems to have taken to his old trick of coming to Stephen-in, in spite of Mary's reproaches, for he was here before breakfast, and is now paying us a second visit. They were to have dined here to-day. But the weather is too bad. I have had the pleasure of hearing that Martha is with them. James fetched her from Ibbthorpe on Thursday,

and she will stay with them till she removes to Kintbury. We met with no adventures at all in our journey yesterday, except that our trunk had once nearly slipped off, and we were obliged to stop it Hartley to have our wheels greased. Whilst my mother and Mr. Leiford were together, I went to Mrs. Riders, and bought what I intended to buy, but not in much perfection. There were no narrow braces for children, and scarcely any knotting silk, but Miss Wood, as usual,

is going to town very soon, and will lay in a fresh stock. I gave two shillings threepence a yard for my flannel, and I fancy it is not very good, but it is so disgraceful and contemptible an article in itself that it's been comparatively good or bad as of little importance. I bought some Japan ink likewise, and next week shall begin my old. operations on my hat, on which you know my principal hopes of happiness depend. I am very grand indeed. I had the dignity of dropping out my mother's lord-num last night. I carry about the keys of the wine and closet, and twice since I began this letter have

had orders to give in to the kitchen. Our dinner was very good yesterday, and the chicken boiled perfectly tender. Therefore I shall not be obliged to dismiss Nanny on that account. Almost everything was unpacked and put away last night. Nanny chose to do it, and I was not sorry to be busy. I have unpacked the gloves, and placed yours in your drawer. Their colour is light and pretty, and I believe exactly what we fixed on. Your letter was chaperoned here by one from Mrs. Cook, in which she says that,

Battle Ridge is not to come out before January, and she is so little satisfied with Cawthorn's dilettoriness, that she never means to employ him again. mrs hall of sherburbon was brought to bed yesterday of a dead child some weeks before she expected owing to a fright i suppose she happened unawares to look at her husband there has been a great deal of rain here for this last fortnight much more than in kent and indeed we found the roads all the way from stains most disgracefully dirty stephinton lane has its full share of it and i don't know when i shall be able to get to dean I hear that Martha is in better looks and spirits than she has enjoyed for a long time, and I flatter myself she will now be able to jest openly about Mr. W. The spectacles which Molly found are my mother's, the scissors my father's.

We are very glad to hear such a good account of your patience, little and great. My dear Itty-Dordy's remembrance of me is very pleasing to me—Foolishly pleasing, because I know it will be over so soon. My attachment to him will be more durable. I shall think with tenderness and delight on his beautiful and smiling countenance and interesting manner, until a few years have turned him into an ungovernable, ungracious fellow. The books from Winton are all unpacked and put away. The binding has compressed them most conveniently,

and there is now very good room in the bookcase for all that we wish to have there. I believe the servants were very glad to see us. Nanny was, I am sure. She confesses that it was very dull, and yet she had her child with her till last Sunday. I understand that there are some grapes left, but I believe not many. They must be gathered as soon as possible, or the rain will entirely rot them. I am quite angry with myself for not writing closer. Why is my alphabet so much more sprawly than yours?

Dame Tilbury's daughter has lain in. Shall I give her any of your baby clothes? The lace-man was here only a few days ago. How unfortunate for both of us that he came so soon! Dame Bushell washes for us only one week more, as Suki has got a place. John Stephen's wife undertakes our purification. She does not look as if anything she touch would ever be clean, but who knows? We do not seem likely to have any other maid-servant at present, but Dame's staples

will supply the place of one. Mary has hired a young girl from Ash, who has never been out to service, to be her scrub. But James fears her not being strong enough for the place. Earl Harwood has been to Dean lately, as I think Mary wrote his word, and his family then told him that they would receive his wife, if she continued to behave well for another year. He was very grateful, as well he might. Their behaviour throughout the whole affair has been particularly kind. Earl and his wife live in the most private manner imaginable at Portsmouth, without keeping

a servant of any kind. What a prodigious innate love of virtue she must have, to marry under such circumstances. It is now Saturday evening, but I wrote the chief of this in the morning. My mother is not be down at all to-day. The Lorden am made her sleep a good deal, and upon the whole I think she is better. My father and I dined by ourselves. How strange! He and John Bond are now very happy together, for I have just had the heavy step of the latter

along the passage. James Digweed called today, and I gave him his brother's deputation. Charles Harwood, too, is just called to ask how we are, in his way from Duma, where he's been conveying Miss Garrett, who's going to return to her former residence in Kent. I will leave off, or I shall not have room to add a word to-morrow. Sunday My mother has had a very good night, and feels much better to-day. I have received my aunt's letter, and thank you for your scrow. I will write to Charles soon.

Pray give Fanny and Edward a kiss from me, and ask George if he has got a new song for me. Tis really very kind of my aunt to ask us to Bath again, a kindness that deserves a better return than to profit by it." Yours ever. J.A. End of Section 3. Section 4 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clette.

Letter 8 Stephenton, December 1st My dear Cassandra I am so good as to write to you again thus speedily To let you know that I have just heard from Frank He was at Cadiz, alive and well on October 18th, And had then very lately received a letter from you, written as long ago as when the London was at St. Helens.

But his rarely latest intelligence of us was in one of me of September 1st. which I sent soon after we had got to Godmisham. He had written a packet full for his dearest friends in England, early in October, to go by the excellent. But the excellent was not sailed, nor likely to sail, when he dispatched this to me. It comprehended letters for both of us, for Lord Spencer, Mr. Daesh, and the East India directors.

Lord St. Vincent had left the fleet when he wrote, and was gone to Gibraltar. It was said to superintendale. the fitting out of a private expedition from thence against some of the enemy's ports. Manorca or Malta were conjectured to be the objects. Frank writes in good spirits, but says that our correspondence cannot be so easily carried on in future as it has been, as the communication between Cadiz and Lisbon is less frequent than formerly. You and my mother, therefore, must not alarm yourselves at the long intervals that may divide his letters.

I address this advice to you, too, as being the most tender-hearted of the family. My mother made her entree into the dressing-room through crowds of admiring spectators yesterday afternoon, and we all drank tea together for the first time these five weeks. She has had a tolerable night, and bids fair for a continuance in the same brilliant course of action to-day. Mr. Leifford was here yesterday.

He came while we were at dinner, and partook of our elegant entertainment. I was not ashamed of asking him to sit down to table, for we had some pea-soup, a spare rib, and a pudding. He wants my mother to look yellow and to throw out a rash, but she will do neither. I was at Dean yesterday morning. Mary was very well, but does not gain bodily strength very fast. When I saw her so stout on the third and sixth days, I expected to have seen her as well as ever by the end of a fortnight.

James went to Ibbthorpe yesterday to see his mother and child. Letty is with Mary at present. of course exceedingly happy, and in raptures with the child. Mary does not manage matters in such a way as to make me want to lay in myself. She is not tidy enough in her appearance. She has no dressing-gown to sit up in. Her curtains are all too thin, and things are not in that comfort and style about her,

which are necessary to make such a situation an enviable one. Elizabeth was really a pretty object with her nice, clean cap, put on so tidily, and a dress so uniformly white, and orderly. We live entirely in the dressing-room now, which I like very much. I always feel so much more elegant in it than in the parlour. No news from Kintbury yet. Eliza sports with our impatience. She was very well last Thursday. Who is Miss Mariah Montresor going to marry, and what has to become of Miss Malkaster? I find great comfort in my stuff gown, but I hope you do not wear yours too often. I've made myself two or three caps to wear of evening since I came home,

and they save me a world of torment as to hairdressing, which at present gives me no trouble beyond washing and brushing, for my long hair as is always plaited up out of sight, and my short hair curls well enough to want no papering. I have had it cut lately by Mr. Butler. There is no reason to suppose that Miss Morgan is dead, after all. Mr. Lyford gratified us very much yesterday by his praises of my father's mutton, which they all think the finest that ever was ate. John Bond begins to find himself grow old, which John Bond's ought not to do, and unequal to much hard work. A man is therefore hired to supply his place as to labour, and John himself is to have the care of the sheep. There are not more people engaged than before, I believe, only men instead

of boys. I fancy so at least, but you know my stupidity as to such matters. Lizzie Bond is just apprentice to Miss Small, so we may hope to see her able to spoil gowns in a few years. My father has applied to Mr. May for an alehouse for Robert, at his request, and to Mr. Dean of Winchester, likewise. This was my mother's idea, who thought he would be proud to oblige a relation of Edward, in return for Edwards accepting his money. He sent a very civil answer, indeed, but has no vacant house at present. May expects to have an empty one soon at Farnham, so perhaps Nanny may have the honour of drawing ale for the bishop. I shall write to Frank to-morrow. Charles Powlick gave a dance on Thursday to the great disturbance of all his neighbours. Of course, who you know, take a most lively interest in the state of his finances, and live in hopes of his being soon ruined. We are very much disposed to like our new maid. She knows nothing of a dairy, to be sure, which in our family is rather against. against her, but she is to be taught at all. In short, we have felt the inconvenience of being without a maid so long, that we are determined to like her, and she will find it a hard

matter to displease us. As yet she seems to cook very well, is uncommonly stout, and says she can work well at her needle. Sunday. My father is glad to hear so good an account of Edward's pigs, and desires he may be told, as encouragement to his taste for them, that Lord Bolton is particularly curious in his pigs, has had pig-stires of a most elegant construction built for them, and visits them every morning as soon as he rises. Affectionately yours, J. A. Letter 9 Steventon, Tuesday, December 18th

My dear Cassandra, Your letter came quite as soon as I expected, and so your letters will always do, because I have made it a rule not to expect them till they come, in which I think I consult the ease of us both. It is a great satisfaction to us to hear that your business is in a way to be settled, and so settle as to give you as little inconvenience as possible. You are very welcome to my father's name, and to his services, if they are ever required in it. I shall keep my ten pounds, too, to wrap myself up in next winter. I took the liberty a few days ago of asking your black velvet bonnet to lend me its call, which it very readily did, and by which I have been enabled to,

give a considerable improvement of dignity to cap, which was before too niggity to please me. I shall wear it on Thursday, but I hope you'll not be offended with me, for following your advice as to its ornaments only in part. I still venture to retain the narrow silver round it, put twice round without any bow, and instead of the black military feather, shall put in the collico one as being smarter. And besides, cocklico is to be all the fashion this winter. After the ball I shall probably make it entirely black. I am sorry that our dear Charles begins to feel the dignity of ill-usage. My father will write to Admiral Gambier.

He must have already received so much satisfaction for his acquaintance and patronage of Frank that he will be delighted, I dare say, to have another of the family introduced to him. I think it would be very right in Charles to address Sir Thomas on the occasion, though I cannot approve of your scheme of writing to him, which you communicated to me a few nights ago, to request him to come home and convey you to Stephenton. To do you justice, however, you had some doubts of the propriety of such a measure yourself. I am very much obliged, my dear little George for his message, for his love, at least.

His duty, I suppose, is only in consequence of some hint of my favourable intentions toward him from his father or mother. I am sincerely rejoiced, however, that I ever was born, since it has been the means of procuring him a dish of tea. Give my best love to him Wednesday I have changed my mind And changed the trimmings of my cap this morning They are now such as you suggested

I felt as if I should not prosper If I strayed from your directions And I think it makes me look more like Lady Coiningham Now than it ever did before Which is all that one lives for now I believe I shall make my new gown like my robe But the back of the latter is all in a piece with the tail and will seven yards enable me to copy it in that respect?

I have just heard from Martha and Frank, his letter was written on November 12. All well, and nothing particular. J.A. Letter 10 Stephenton, Monday night, December 24. My dear Cassandra, I have got some pleasant news for you, which I am eager to communicate, and therefore begin my letter sooner, though I shall not send it sooner. than usual. Admiral Gambier, in reply to my father's application, writes as follows.

As it is usual to keep young officers and small vessels, it being most proper on account of their inexperience, and it being also a situation where they are more in the way of learning their duty, your son has been continued in the Scorpion. But I have mentioned to the Board of Admiralty his wish to be in a frigate, and when a proper opportunity offers, and it is judged that he has taken his turn in a small ship, I hope he will be removed. With regard to your son now in the London, I am glad I can give you the assurance that his promotion is likely to take place very soon, as Lord Spencer has been so good as to say he would include him, in an arrangement that he proposes making in short time, relative to some

promotions in that quarter. There, I may now finish my letter, and go and hang myself, for I am sure I can neither write nor do anything, which will not appear insipid to you after this. Now I really think he will soon be made, and only wish we could communicate our foreknowledge of the event to him, whom it principally concerns. My father has written to date to desire that he will inform us, if he can, when the commission is sent. Your chief wish is now ready to be accomplished, and, good Lord Spencer give happiness to Martha at the same time, what a joyful heart he would make of yours. I have sent the same extract of the sweets of Gambier to Charles, who, poor fellow, though he sinks into nothing but a humble attendant or the hero of the peace, will, I hope, be contended with the prospect held out to him. By what the Admiral says, it appears as if he had

been designedly kept in the Scorpion. But I will not torment myself with conjectures and suppositions. Facts shall satisfy me. Frank had not heard from any of us for ten weeks, when he wrote to me on November 12, in consequence of Lord St. Vincent being removed to Gibraltar. When his commission is sent, however, it will not be so long on its road as our letters, because all the government dispatches are forwarded by a land to his lordship from Lisbon with great regularity. I returned from Menadown this morning, and found my mother certainly in no respect worse than when I left her. She does not like the cold weather, but that we cannot help. I spend my time very quietly and very pleasantly with Catherine. Miss Blackford is agreeable enough. I do not

want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal. I found only Catherine and her when I got to Menna down on Thursday. We dined together, and went together to Whirting, to seek the protection of Mrs. Clark, with whom were Lady Mildmay, her eldest son, and Mr. and Mrs. Hall. Our ball was very thin, but by no means unpleasant. There were thirty-one people, and only eleven ladies out of the number, and but five single women in the room. Of the gentlemen present you may have some idea for the list of my partners. Mr. Wood, G. Lefroy, Rice, a Mr. Butcher, belonging to the temples, a sailor, and not of the 11th-like dragoons. Mr. Temple, not the horrid one of all, and Mr. William Ord, cousin to

the King's Clare-man, Mr. John Harwood, and Mr. Calland, who appeared as usual with his hat in his hand, and stood every now and then behind Catherine and me to be talked to and abused, and for not dancing. We teased him, however, into it at last. I was very glad to see him again after so long a separation, and he was altogether rather the genius and flirt of the evening. He inquired after you. There were twenty dances, and I danced them all, and without any fatigue. I was glad to find myself capable of dancing so much, and with so much satisfaction as I did. From my slender enjoyment of the Ashford balls, as assemblies for dancing, I had not thought myself equal to it. But in cold weather and with few couples, I fancy I could just as well dance for a week

together as for half an hour. My black cap was openly admired by Mrs. Lafroy, and secretly, I imagined by everybody else in the room. Poor Edward! It is very hard that he, who has said everything else in the world that he can wish for, should not have good health, too. But I hope, with the assistance of stomach complaints, faintnesses, and sicknesses, he will soon be restored to that blessing likewise. If his nervous complaint proceeded from a suppression of something that ought to be thrown out, which does not seem unlikely, the first of these disorders may really be a remedy, and I sincerely wish it may, for I know no one more deserving of happiness without our law than Edward is. The Lords of the Admiralty will have enough of our applications at present, for I hear from Charles that he has written to Lord Spencer himself to be removed. I am afraid his serene highness will be in a passion, and order some of our heads to be cut off. You deserve a longer letter than this, but it is my unhappy fate seldom to treat people so well as they deserve.

God bless you. Yours affectionately, Jane Austen. Wednesday. The snow came to nothing yesterday, so I did go to Dean, and returned home at nine o'clock at night in that little carriage, and without being very cold. End of Section 4. Section 5 of the Letters of Jane Austen This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clette Letter 11

Steventon, Friday, December 28th. My dear Cassandra, Frank is made. He was yesterday raised to the rank of commander, and appointed to the petrol sloop now at Gibraltar. A letter from Dache has just announced this, and as it is confirmed by a very friendly one from Mr. Matthew, to the same effect, transcribing one from Admiral Gambier to the general, we have no reason to suspect the truth of it. As soon as you have cried a little for joy, you may go on,

and learn further that the India House have taken Captain Austen's petition into consideration. This comes from Daesh, and likewise that Lieutenant Charles John Austin is removed to the Tamar frigate. This comes from the Admiral. We cannot find out where the Tamar is, but I hope we shall now see Charles here at all events. This letter is to be dedicated entirely to good news. If you will send my father in account of your washing and letter expenses, etc., he will send you a draft for the amount of it, as well as for your next quarter, and for Edward's rent.

If you don't buy a muslin gown now on the strength of this money and Frank's promotion, I shall never forgive you. Mrs. LeFroy has just sent me word that Lady Dorchester meant to invite me to her ball on January 8th, which, though in humble blessing compared with what the last page records, I do not consider as any calamity. I cannot write any more now, but I have written enough to make you very happy, and therefore may safely conclude. Yours affectionately, Jane. Letter 12 Steventon, Tuesday, January 8th, 1799

My dear Cassandra, you must read your letters over five times. and future before you send them, and then perhaps you may find them as entertaining as I do. I laughed at several parts of the one which I am now answering. Charles has not come yet, but he must come this morning, or he shall never know what I will do to him. The ball at Kempshot is this evening, and I have got him an invitation, though I have not been so considerate as to get him a partner. But the case is a different between him and Eliza Bailey, for he is not in a dying way, and may therefore be equal to getting a partner for himself. I believe I told you that Monday was to be the ball night, for which and for all other

errors into which I may ever have led you, I humbly ask your pardon. Elizabeth is very cruel about my writing music, and as a punishment for her, I should insist upon always writing out all hers for her in future, if I were not punishing myself at the same time. I am tolerably glad to hear that Edward's income is so good a one, as glad as I can be at anybody's being rich except you and me, and I am thoroughly rejoiced to hear of his present to you. I am not to wear my white satin cap to-night, after all. I am to wear a marmalone cap instead, which Charles Fowl sent to Mary, and which she sends me. It is all the fashion now, worn at the opera, and by Lady Mildmay's at Hackwood Balls. I hate describing such things, and I dare say you'll be

able to guess what it is like. I have got over the dreadful epoch of Mantua making much better than I expected. My gown is made very like my blue one, which you always told me sat very well, with only these variations. The sleeves are short, the wrap fuller, the apron comes over it, and a band of the same completes the whole. I assure you that I dread the idea of going to brighten as much as you do, but I am not without hopes that something may happen to prevent it. F. has lost his election at B, and perhaps they may not be able to see company for some time. They talk of going to Bath, too, in the spring, and perhaps they may be overturned in their way down, and all laid up for the summer.

Wednesday I have had a cold and weakness in one of my eyes for some days, which makes writing neither very pleasant nor very profitable, and which will probably prevent my finishing this letter myself. My mother has undertaken to do it for me, and I shall leave the Kemp-shot ball for her. You express so little anxiety about my being murdered under Ash Park cops by Mrs. Hulbert's servant, that I have a great mind not to tell you whether I was or not, and she'll only say that I did not return home that night or the next, as Martha kindly made room for me in her bed, which was the shut-up one in the new nursery.

Nurse and the child slept upon the floor, and there we all were in some confusion and great comfort. The bed did exceedingly well for us, both to lie awake in and talk till two o'clock and to sleep in the rest of the night. I love Martha better than ever, and I mean to go and see her if I can when she gets home. We all dined at the Harwoods on Thursday, and the party broke up the next morning. This complaint in my eye has been a sad bore to me, for I have not been able to read or work in any comfort since Friday.

But one advantage will be derived from it, for I shall be such a proficient in music by the time I have got rid of my cold, that I shall be perfectly qualified in that science, at least to take Mr. Ropes's office at Eastwell next summer, and I am sure of Elizabeth's recommendation, be it only on Harriet's account. Of my talent and drawing I have given specimens in my letters to you, and I have nothing to do but to invent a few hard names for the stars. Mary grows rather more reasonable about her child's beauty. and says that she does not think him really handsome. But I suspect her moderation to be something like that of W-W's, Mama. Perhaps Mary has told you that they are going to enter into more dinner parties. The Biggs and Mr. Holder dined there tomorrow, and I am to meet them. I shall sleep there. Catherine has the honour of giving her name to a set, which will be composed of two withers, two Heathcats, a Blackford, and no big except herself.

She congratulated me last night on Frank's promotion, as if she really felt the joy she talked of. My sweet little George, I am delighted to hear that he is such an inventive genius as to face-making. I admired his yellow wafer very much, and I hope he will choose the wafer for your next letter. I wore my green shoes last night and took my white fan with me. I am very glad he never threw it into the river. Mrs. Knight, giving up the Godmisham mistake to Edward, is no such prodigious act of generosity, after all, it seems, for she has reserved herself an income out of it still. This ought to be known, that her conduct may not be overrated. I rather think Edward shows the most magnanimity of the two

in accepting her resignation with such encumbrances. The more I write, the better my eye gets, so I shall at least keep on till it is quite well, before I give it. up my pen to my mother. Mrs. Bramston's little movable apartment was tolerably filled last night, by herself, Mrs. H. Blackstone, her two daughters, and me. I do not like the Miss Blackstone's. Indeed, I was always determined not to like them, so there is the less merit in it. Mrs. Bramston was very civil, kind, and noisy. I spent a very pleasant evening, chiefly among the many-down party. There is the same kind of supper

as last year, and the same one of chairs. There were more dances than the room could conveniently hold, which is enough to constitute a good ball at any time. I do not think I was very much in request. People were rather apt not to ask me until they could not help it. One's consequence, you know, varies so much at times, without any particular reason. There was one gentleman, an officer of the Cheshire, a very good-looking young man, who, I was told, wanted very much to be introduced to me. But as he did not want it quite enough to take much trouble in affecting it, we never could bring it about. I danced with Mr. John Wood again, twice with a Mr. South, a lad from Winchester, who, I suppose, is as far from being related to the bishop of that

diocese as it is possible to be, with G. Lefroy and Jay Harwood, who, I think, takes to me rather more than he used to do. One of my gayest actions was sitting down two dances, in preference to having Lord Bolton's eldest son for my partner, who danced too ill to be endured. The Miss Charterises were there, and played the parts of the Miss Edens with great spirit. Charles never came. Nauty, Charles. I suppose he could not get superseded in time. Mr. Barry has replaced your two sheets of drawing-paper with two of superior size and quality, so I do not grudge her having taken them at all now. Mr. Ludlow and Miss Pugh of Andover are lately married, and so is Mrs. Skeet of Basingstoke and Mr. French, chemist, of Reading.

I do not wonder at your wanting to read fast impressions again, so seldom as you have gone through it, and that so long ago. I am much obliged to you for meaning to leave my old petticoat behind you. I have long secretly wished it might be done, but had not courage to make the request. Pray mention the name of Mariah Montresor's lover when you write next. My mother wants to know it, and I have not courage to look back into your letters to find it out. I shall not be able to send this till tomorrow, and you will be disappointed on Friday. I am very sorry for it, but I cannot help it. The partnership between Geoffrey's tumour and leg is dissolved. The two latter are melted away into nothing, and it is to be hoped that Jeffreys will soon break,

for the sake of a few heroines whose money he may have. I wish you joy of your birthday twenty times over. I shall be able to send this to the post today, which exalts me to the utmost pinnacle of human felicity, and makes me bask in the sunshine of prosperity, or gives me any other sensation of pleasure in studied language which you may prefer. Do not be angry with me for not filling my sheet, and believe me yours affectionately.

J. A. End of Section 5. Section 6 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elizabeth Clette. Letter 13 Steventon, Monday, January 21st. My dear Cassandra, I will endeavour to make this letter more worthy your acceptance than my last,

which was so shabby a one that I think Mr. Marshall could never charge you with the postage. My eyes have been very indifferent since it was written, but are now getting better once more. Keeping them so many hours open on Thursday night, as well as the dust of the ballroom, injured them a good deal. I used them as little as I can, but you know, and Elizabeth knows, and everybody who has ever had weak eyes knows, how delightful it is to hurt them by employment, against the advice and entreaty of all one's friends. Charles leaves us tonight. The Tamar is in the downs, and Mr. Day she advises him to join her there directly,

as there is no chance of her going to the westward. Charles does not approve of this at all, and will not be much grieved if he should be too late for her before she sails, as he may then hope to get into a better situation. He attempted to go to town last night, and got as far on his road thither as Dean Gate, but both the coaches were full. and we had the pleasure of seeing him back again. He will call on Desh tomorrow, to know whether the Tamar has sailed or not,

and if she is still at the Downs, he'll proceed in one of the night-coaches to deal. I want to go with him, that I may explain the country to him properly between Canterbury and Rowling, but the unpleasantness of returning by myself deters me. I should like to go as far as Ospringe with him very much indeed, that I might surprise you at Godmisham.

Martha writes me word that Charles was very much admired at Kintbury, and Mrs. LaFroy never saw anyone so much improved in her life, and thinks him handsomer than Henry. He appears to far more advantage here than he did at Godmisham, not surrounded by strangers, and neither oppressed by a pain in his face or powder in his hair. James christened Elizabeth Caroline on Saturday morning, and then came home. Mary, Anna and Edward have left us, of course. Before the second went, I took down her answer to her cousin Fanny. Yesterday came a letter to my mother from Edward Cooper, to announce, not the birth of a child, but of a living, for Mrs. Lee has begged his acceptance of the rectory of Hampstall-Ridware

in Staffordshire, vacant by Mr. Johnson's death. We collect from his letter that he means to reside there, in which he shows his wisdom. Staffordshire is a good way off, so we shall see nothing more of them till some fifteen years hence the Miss Cooper's are presented to us, fine, jolly, handsome, ignorant girls. The living is valued at 140 guineas a year, but perhaps it may be improvable. How will they be able to convey the furniture of the dressing-room so far in safety? Our first cousins seem all dropping off very fast. One is incorporated into the family, another dies, and a third goes into Staffordshire. We can learn nothing of the disposal of the other living.

I have not the smallest notions of Fulwer's having it. Lord Craven has probably other connections and more intimate ones in that line than he now has with the Kintbury family. Our ball on Thursday was a very poor one, only eight couple, and but twenty-three people in the room. But it was not the ball's fault, for we were deprived of two or three families by the sudden illness of Mr. Wither, who was seized that morning at Winchester,

with the return of his former alarming complaint. An express was sent off from thence to the family. Catherine and Miss Blackford were dining with Mrs. Russell. Poor Catherine's distress must have been very great. She was prevailed on to wait till the Heathcots could come from Whitney, and then with those two and Harris proceeded directly to Winchester. In such a disorder his danger, I suppose, must always be great. But from this attack he is now rapidly recovering,

and would be well enough to return to many down, I fancy, in a few days. It was a fine thing for conversation at the ball, but it deprived us not only of the Biggs, but of Mrs. Russell, too, and of the Bolton's and John Harwood, who were dining there likewise, and of Mr. Lane, who kept away as related to the family. Poor man! I mean Mr. Wither. His life is so useful, his character so respectable and worthy, that I really believe there was a good deal of sincerity, in the general concern expressed on his account. Arboures was chiefly made up of Gervoises and Terry's, the former of whom were apt to be vulgar, the latter to be noisy. I had an odd set of partners, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Street, Colonel Gervois, James Digweed, Jay Lifford, and Mr. Briggs, a friend of the latter.

I had a very pleasant evening, however, though you will probably find out that there was no particular reason for it, but I do not think it worthwhile to wait for enjoyment until there is some real opportunity for it. Mary behaved very well, and was not at all fidgety. For the history of her adventures at the ball, I refer you to Anna's letter. When you come home, you'll have some shirts to make up for Charles. Mrs. Davies frightened him into buying a piece of Irish when we were in Basingstoke. Mr. Dach supposes that Captain Austen's commission has reached him by this time. Tuesday. Your letter has pleased and amused me very much. Your essay on happy fortnights is highly

ingenious, and the talibut skin made me laugh a good deal. Whenever I fall into misfortune, how many jokes it ought to furnish to my acquaintance in general, or I shall die dreadfully in their debt for entertainment. It began to occur to me before you mentioned it, that I had been somewhat silent as to my mother's health for some time, but I thought you could have no difficulty in divining its exact state, you who have guessed so much stranger things. She is tolerably well, better upon the whole than she was some weeks ago. She would tell you herself that she is a very dreadful cold in her head at present,

but I have not much compassion for cold in the head without fever or sore throat. Our own particular little brother got a place in the coach last night, and is now, I suppose, in town. I have no objection at all to your buying our gowns there, as your imagination has pictured to you exactly such a one as is necessary to make me happy. You quite abash me by your progress in knotting, for I am still without silk. You must get me some in town, or in Canterbury. It should be finer than yours. I thought Edward would not approve of Charles being a crop, and rather wished you to conceal it from him at present, lest it might fall in his spirits and retard his recovery. My father furnishes him with a pig from cheese down. It is already

killed and cut up, but it is not to weigh more than nine stone. The season is too far advanced to get him a larger one. My mother means to pay herself for the salt, and the trouble of ordering it to be cured by the spare ribs, the souse and the lard. We have had one dead lamb. I congratulate you on Mr. E. Hatton's good fortune. I suppose the marriage will now follow out of hand. my compliments to Miss Finch. What time in March may we expect your return in? I begin to be very tired of answering people's questions on that subject, and, independent of that, I shall be very glad to see you at home again.

And then, if we can get Martha and Shirk, who will be so happy as we? I think of going to Ibbthorpe in about a fortnight. My eyes are pretty well, I thank you, if you please. Wednesday the 23rd. I wish my dear Fanny many returns of this day, and that she may on every return enjoy as much pleasure as she is now receiving from her doll's beds. I have just heard from Charles, who is by this time at Deal. He is to be second lieutenant, which pleases him very well. The Indymean has come into the downs, which pleases him likewise. He expects to be ordered to sheerness shortly, as the Tamar has never been refitted. My father and mother made the same match for you last night, and are very much pleased with it.

He is a beauty of my mother's. Yours affectionately, Jane. Letter 14 13 Queen Square, Friday, May 17th. My dearest Cassandra Our journey yesterday went off exceedingly well. Nothing occurred to alarm or delay us. We found the roads in excellent order, had very good horses all the way.

and reached Devises with ease by four o'clock. I suppose John has told you in what manner we were divided when we left Andover, and no alteration was afterwards made. At Devises we had comfortable rooms and a good dinner, to which we sat down about five. Amongst other things we had asparagus and a lobster, which made me wish for you, and some cheesecakes,

on which the children made so delightful a supper as to endear the town of Devises to them for a long time. "'Well, here we are at Bath. We got here about one o'clock, and have been arrived just long enough to go over the house, fix on our rooms, and be very well pleased with the whole of it. Poor Elizabeth has had a dismal ride of it from devises, for it has rained almost all the way, and our first view of Bath has been just as gloomy as it was last November twelvemonth. I have got so many things to say, so many things equally important, that I know not on which to decide at present, and shall therefore. for, go and eat with the children. We stopped in Paragon as we came along, but as it was too wet and dirty for us to get out, we could only see Frank, who told us that his master was very indifferent, but had had a

better night last night than usual. In Paragon we met Mrs. Foley and Mrs. Dowdwell, with a yellow shawl airing out, and at the bottom of the Kingsdown Hill we met a gentleman and a buggy, who, on minute examination, turned out to be Dr. Hall. And Dr. Hall, in very deep mourning that either his mother, his wife, or himself must be dead. These are all of our acquaintance who have yet met our eyes. I have some hopes of being plagued about my trunk. I had a few more hours ago, for it was too heavy to go by the coach, which brought Thomas and Rebecca from devises. There was reason to suppose that it might be too heavy, likewise, for any other coach, and for a long time

we could hear of no wagon to convey it. At last, however, we unluckily discovered that one was just on the point of setting out for this place, but at any rate the trunk cannot be here till tomorrow. So far we are safe, and who knows what may not happen to procure a further delay. I put Mary's letter into the post-office at Andover with my own hand. We are exceedingly pleased with the house. The rooms are quite as large as we expected. Mrs. Bromley is a fat woman in mourning,

and a little black kitten runs about the staircase. Elizabeth has the apartment within the drawing-room. She wanted my mother to have it, but as there was no bed in the inner one, and the stairs are so much easier of ascent, or my mother so much stronger than in Paragon as not to regard the double flight, it is settled for us to be above, where we have two very nice-sized rooms, with dirty quilts and everything comfortable. I have the outward and larger apartment, as I ought to have, which is quite as large as our bedroom at home, and my mother's is not materially less.

The beds are both as large as any at Steventon, and I have very nice chest of drawers and a closet full of shelves, so full indeed that there is nothing else in it, and it should therefore be called a cupboard rather than a closet, I suppose. Tell Mary that there were some carpenters at work in the inn at devises this morning, but as I could not be sure of their being Mrs. W. Fowell's relations, I did not make myself known to them. I hope it will be a very tolerable afternoon. When first we came, all the umbrellas were up, but now the pavements are getting very white again. My mother does not seem at all the worse for her journey, nor any of us, I hope, though Edward seemed rather fagged last night, and not very brisk this morning. But I trust the bustle of sending for tea, coffee and sugar, etc., and going out to taste a cheese himself, will do him good.

There was a very long list of arrivals here in the newspaper yesterday, so that we need not immediately dread absolute solitude, and there is a public breakfast in Sydney Gardens every morning, so that we shall not be wholly starved. Elizabeth has had just a very good account of the three little boys. I hope you are very busy and very comfortable. I find no difficulty in closing my eyes. I like our situation very much. It is far more cheerful than Paragon, and the prospect from the drawing-room window,

at which I now write, is rather picturesque, as it commands a prospective view of the left side of Brock Street, broken by three Lombardy Poplars in the garden of the last house and Queen's Parade. I am rather impatient to know the fate of my best gown, but I suppose it will be some days before Francis can get through the trunk. In the meantime, I am, with many thanks for your trouble in making it, as well as marking my silk stockings. Yours very affectionately, Jane. A great deal of love from everybody. End of Section 6. Section 7 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Libravox recording is in the public domain.

Recording by Elizabeth Clert. Letter 15 13 Queen Square, Sunday, June 2nd. My dear Cassandra, I am obliged to you for two letters, one from yourself and the other from Mary, for of the latter I knew nothing till on the receipt of yours yesterday, when the pigeon-basket was examined and I received my due. As I have written to her since the time which ought to have brought me hers, I suppose she will consider herself, as I choose to consider her, still in my debt. I will lay out all the little judgment I have in endeavouring to get such stockings for Anna as she will approve.

But I do not know that I shall execute Martha's commission at all, for I have. I will lay out of the little judgment I have. I'm not fond of ordering shoes, and at any rate they shall all have flat heels. What must I tell you of Edward? Truth or falsehood? I will try the former, and you may choose for yourself another time. He was better yesterday than he had been for two or three days before, about as well as while he was at Steventon. He drinks at the Hetling pump, is to bathe tomorrow, and try electricity on Tuesday.

He proposed the latter himself to Dr. Fellows, who made no objection to it, but I fancy we're all unanimous in expecting no advantage from it. At present I have no great notion of our staying here beyond the month. I heard from Charles last week. They were to sail on Wednesday. My mother seems remarkably well. My uncle overwalked himself at first, and can now only travel in a chair, but is otherwise very well. My cloak has come home. I like it very much, and can now exclaim with delight, like Jay Bond at Hay Harvest. This is what I have been looking for all these three years. I saw some gauzes in a shop in Bath Street yesterday at only four shillings a yard, but they were not so good or so pretty as mine. Flowers are very much worn, and fruit is still more the thing. Elizabeth has a bunch of strawberries, and I have seen grapes, cherries, and I have seen grapes, cherries, plums and apricots. There are likewise almonds and raisins, French plums and tamarins at the grocer's, but I have never seen any of them in hats. A plum or green gauge would cost three

shillings, cherries and grapes about five, I believe. But this is at some of the dearest shops. My aunt has told me of a very cheap one, near Walcott Church, to which I shall go in quest of something for you. I have never seen an old woman at the pump-room. Elizabeth has given me a hat, and it is not only a pretty hat, but a pretty style of hat, too. It is something like Elizas, only instead of being all straw, half a bit is narrow purple ribbon. I flatter myself, however, that you can understand very little of it from this description. Heaven forbid that I should ever offer such encouragement to explanations as to give a clear one on any occasion myself. But I must write no more of this.

I spent Friday evening with the Mapletons, and was obliged to submit to being pleased in spite of my inclination. We took a very charming walk from six to eight up Beacon Hill and across some fields, to the village of Charlcombe, which is sweetly situated in the Little Green Valley, as a village which such a name ought to be. Marianne is sensible and intelligent, and even Jane, considering how fair she is, is not unpleasant. We had a Miss North and a Mr. Gould of our party. The latter walked home with me after tea. He is a very young man, just entered Oxford, wears spectacles, and has heard that Evelyna was written by Dr. Johnson. I am afraid I cannot undertake to carry Martha's shoes home, for, though we had plenty of room in our trunks when we came, we shall have many more things to take back, and I must allow besides for my packing. There is to be a grand gala on Tuesday evening in Sydney Gardens, a concert with illuminations and fireworks. To the latter Elizabeth and I look forward with pleasure, and even the concert will have more than its usual charm for me, as the gardens are large enough for me to get pretty well beyond the reach of its sound. In the morning Lady Willoughby is to present the colours to some core, or yeomanry, or other, in the crescent, and that such festivities may have a proper commencement, we think of going too. I am quite pleased with Martha and Mrs. LaFroy for wanting the pattern of our caps, but I am not so well pleased with you for giving it to them.

Some wish, some prevailing wish, is necessary to the animation of everybody's mind, and in gratifying this, you leave them to form some other, which will not probably be half so innocent. I shall not forget to write to Frank. Duty and love, etc. Yours affectionately, Jane My uncle is quite surprised at my hearing from you so often, but as long as we can keep the frequency of our correspondence from Martha's uncle, we will not fear our own. Letter 16

13 Queen Square, Tuesday, June 11th. My dear Cassandra, Your letter yesterday made me very happy. I am heartily glad that you have escaped any share of the impurities at Dean, and not sorry as it turns out that our stay here has been lengthened. I feel tolerably secure of our getting away next week, though it is certainly possible that we may remain till Thursday the 27th. I wonder what we shall do with all our intended visits this summer. I should like to make a compromise with Aldersdrop, Harden and Bookham, that Martha's spending the summer at Steventon should be considered as our respective visits to the mall.

Edward has been pretty well for this last week, and as the waters have never disagreed with him in any respect, we are inclined to hope that he will derive advantage from them in the mall. the end. Everybody encourages us in this expectation, for they all say that the effects of the waters cannot be negative, and many are the instances in which their benefit is felt afterwards more than on the spot. He is more comfortable here than I thought he would be, and so is Elizabeth, though they will both, I believe, be very glad to get away, the latter especially, which one can't wonder at somehow. So much for Mrs. Piazzi. I had some thoughts of writing the whole of my letter in her style, but I believe I shall not. Though you have given me unlimited powers concerning your sprig, I cannot determine what to do

about it, and shall therefore in this and in every other future letter continue to ask your further directions. We have been to the cheap shop, and very cheap we found it, but there are only flowers made there, no fruit, and as I could get four or five very pretty sprigs of the former, for the same money which would procure only one aule-en-plum, In short, could get more for three or four shillings than I could have means of bringing home, I cannot decide on the fruit till I hear from you again. Besides, I cannot help thinking that it is more natural to have flowers grow out of the head than fruit. What do you think on that subject?

I would not let Martha read first impressions again upon any account, and I am very glad that I did not leave it in your power. She is very cunning, but I saw through her design. She means to publish it from memory, and one more perusal must enable her to do it. As for Fitzalbini, when I get home, she shall have it, as soon as she ever will own that Mr. Elliot is handsomer than Mr. Lance, that fair men are preferable to black, for I mean to take every opportunity of routing out her prejudices. Benjamin Portal is here.

How charming that is! I do not know exactly why, but the phrase followed so naturally that I could not help putting it down. My mother saw him the other day, but without making herself known to him. I am very glad you liked my lace, and so are you, and so is Martha, and we are all glad together. I have got your cloak-home, which is quite delightful, as delightful at least is half the circumstances which are called so. I do not know what is the matter with me today, but I cannot write quietly. I am always wandering away into some exclamation or other. Fortunately, I have nothing very particular to say.

We walked to Weston one evening last week, and I liked it very much. Liked what very much? Western? No, walking to Weston. I have not expressed myself properly, but I hope you'll understand me. We have not been to any public place lately, nor performed anything out of the common daily routine of No. 13 Queen Square, Bath. but today we were to have dashed away at a very extraordinary rate by dining out had it not so happened that we did not go.

Edward renewed his acquaintance lately with Mr. Evelyn, who lives in the Queen's Parade, and was invited to a family dinner, which I believe at first Elizabeth was rather sorry at his accepting, but yesterday Mrs. Evelyn called on us, and her manners were so pleasing that we liked the idea of going very much. The Biggs would call her a nice woman. But Mr. Evelyn, who is indisposed yesterday, is worse today, and we are put off. It is rather impertinent to suggest any household care to a housekeeper, but I just venture to say that the coffee mill we wanted every day while Edward is at Steventon, as he always drinks coffee for breakfast. Fanny desires her love to you, her love to Grandpapa, her love to Anna, and her love to Hannah. The latter is particularly to be remembered. Edward desires his love to you, to Grandpapa, to Anna, to Little Edward, to Aunt James and Uncle James,

and he hopes all your turkeys and ducks and chicken and guinea fowls are very well, and he wishes you very much to send him a printed letter, and so does Fanny, and they both rather think they shall answer it. Dr. Gardner was married yesterday to Mrs. Percy and her three daughters. Now I will give you the history of Mary's Vale, in the purchase of which I have so considerably involved you, that it is my duty to economise for you in the flowers. I had no difficulty in getting a muslin veil for half a guinea, and not much more in discovering afterwards that the muzzan was thick, dirty, and ragged, and therefore would by no means do for a united gift. I changed it consequently as soon as I could, and considering what a state by imprudence had reduced me to, I thought myself lucky in getting a black lace one for sixteen shillings.

I hope the half of that sum will not exceed greatly what you had intended to offer upon the altar of sister-in-law affection. Yours affectionately, Jane. They do not seem to trouble you much from many down. I have long wanted to quarrel with them, and I believe I shall take this opportunity. There is no denying that they are very capricious, for they like to enjoy their elder sister's company when they can. End of Section 7. Section 8 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 17. Stephenton, Thursday, November 20th, 1800. My dear Cassandra,

Your letter took me quite by surprise this morning. You are very welcome, however, and I am very much obliged to you. I believe I drank too much wine last night at Hurstbourne. I know not else how to account for the shaking of my hand today. You will kindly make allowance, therefore, for any indistinctness of writing, by attributing it to this venial error. Nauty Charles did not come on Tuesday, but good Charles came yesterday morning. About two o'clock he walked in on a gossport hack.

His feeling equal to such a fatigue is a good sign, and his feeling no fatigue in it to better still. He walked down to Dean to dinner. He danced the whole evening, and today is no more tired than a gentleman ought to be. Your desiring to hear from me on Sunday will, perhaps, bring you a more particular account of the ball than you may careful. because one is prone to think much more of such things the morning after they happen than when time has entirely driven them out of one's recollection. It was a pleasant evening. Charles found it remarkably so. But I cannot tell why, unless the absence of Miss Terry,

towards whom his conscience reproaches him with being now perfectly indifferent, was a relief to him. There were only twelve dances, of which I danced nine, and was merely prevented from dancing the rest by the want of a part of. We began at ten, supped at one, and were at Dean before five. There were but fifty people in the room, very few families indeed from our side of the county, and not many more from the other. My partners were the two Syngians, Hooper, Holder, and a very prodigious Mr. Matthew, with whom I called the last, and whom I liked the best of my little stock. There were very few beauties, and such as there were were not very handsome. Miss Iyamonga did not look well, and Mrs. Blount was the only one much admired.

She appeared exactly as she did in September, with the same broad face, diamond bandeau, white shoes, pink husband, and fat neck. The two Miss Coxes were there. I traced in one the remains of the vulgar broad-featured girl who danced at Enum eight years ago. The other is refined into a nice, composed-looking girl, like Catherine Big. I looked at Sir Thomas Champneys and thought of poor Rosalie. I looked at his daughter and thought her a queer animal with a white neck. Mrs. Warren I was constrained to think a very fine young woman, which I much regret. She danced away with great activity.

Her husband is ugly enough, uglier even than his cousin John. But he does not look so very old. The Miss Maitland's are both prettyish, very like Anne, with brown skins, large dark eyes, and a good deal of nose. The general has got the gout, and Mrs. Maitland the jaundice. Mr. Barry, Susan and Sally, all in black but without any statues, made their appearance, and I was as civil to them as circumstances would allow me. Mary said that I looked very well last night. I wore my aunt's gown and handkerchief, and my hair was at least tidy, which was all my ambition.

I will now have done with the ball, and I will, moreover, go and dress for dinner. farewell charles sends you his best love and edward his worst if you think the distinction improper you may take the worst yourself he will write to you when he gets back to his ship and in the meantime desires that you will consider me as your affectionate sister j a "'Friday. I have determined to go on Thursday, but of course not before the post comes in. Charles is in very good looks indeed. I had the comfort of finding out the other evening who all the fat girls with long noses were that disturbed me at the first H. Ball. They all proved to be Miss Atkinsons of N.' I rejoice to say that we have just had another letter from our dear Frank. It is to you, very short, written from Larnaca in Cyprus, and so lately as October 2nd. He came from Alexandria, and was to return there in three or four days, knew nothing of his promotion, and

is not right above twenty lines, from a doubt of the letters ever reaching you, and an idea of all letters being opened at Vienna. He wrote a few days before to you from Alexandria by the Mercury, sent with dispatches to Lord Keith. Another letter must be owing to us besides this, one, if not two, because none of these are to me. Henry comes to-morrow, for one night only. My mother has heard from Mrs. E. Lee. Ladies say and sail, and her daughter are going to remove to Bath. Mrs. Estwick is married again to a Mr. Sloan, a young man underage, without the knowledge of either family. He bears a good character, however. Letter 18. Steventon, Saturday, January 3rd, 1801.

My dear Cassandra, As you have by this time received my last letter, it is fit that I should begin another. and I begin with the hope, which is at present uppermost in my mind, that you often wore a white gown in the morning at the time of all the gay parties being with you. Our visit at Ash Park last Wednesday went off in a commsar way. We met Mr. Lefroy and Tom Schute, played at cards, and came home again. James and Mary dined here on the following day, and at night Henry set off in the mail for London. He was as agreeable as ever during his visit, and has not lost anything in Miss Leyen. Lloyd's estimation.

Yesterday we were quite alone, only our full selves. But today the scene is agreeably varied by Mary's driving Martha to Basingstoke, and Martha's afterwards dining at Dean. My mother looks forward with as much certainty as you can do to our keeping two maids. My father is the only one not in the secret. We plan having a steady cook and a young giddy housemaid, with a sedate, middle-aged man, who is to undertake the double office of husband to the former and sweetheart to the latter. No children, of course, to be allowed on either side.

You feel more for John Bond than John Bond deserves. I am sorry to lower his character, but he is not ashamed to own himself that he is no doubt at all of getting a good place, and that he had even an offer many years ago from a farmer pain of taking him into his service whenever he might quit my father's. There are three parts of Bath which we have thought of is likely to have the houses in them. Westgate buildings, Charles Street, and some of the short streets leading from Laura Place or Pultene Street. Westgate buildings, they're quite in the lower part of the town, are not badly situated themselves. The street is broad, and has rather a good appearance. Charles Street, however, I think is preferable. The buildings are new, and its nearness to

Kingsmead Field would be a pleasant circumstance. Perhaps you may remember, or perhaps you may forget, that Charles Street leads from the Queen Square Chapel to the two Green Park streets. The houses in the streets near Laura Place I should expect to be above our price. Gay Street would be too high, except only the lower house on the left-hand side as you ascend. Towards that, my mother has no disinclination. It used to be lower rented than any other house in the row, from some inferiority in the apartments. But above all others, her wishes are at present fixed on the corner house in Chapel Row, into Prince's Street. Her knowledge of it, however, is confined only to the outside, and therefore she is equally uncertain of its being really desirable, as of its being to be had. In the meantime,

she assures you she will do everything in her power to avoid Trim Street, although you have not expressed the fearful presentiment of it, which was rather expected. We know that Mrs. Perrault will want to get us into Oxford buildings, but we all unite in particular dislike of that part of the town, and therefore hope to escape. Upon all these different situations you and Edward may confer together, and your opinion of each will be expected with eagerness. As to our pictures, the battlepiece, Mr. Nibs, Sir William East, and all the old heterogeneous miscellany, manuscript, scriptual pieces dispersed over the house, are to be given to James. Your own drawings will not cease to be your own, and two paintings on tin will be at your disposal. My mother says that the French agricultural prints in the best

bedroom were given by Edward to his two sisters. Do you or he know anything about it? She has written to my aunt, and we are all impatient for the answer. I do not know how to give up the idea of our both going to Paragon and May. Your going, I consider as indispensably necessary, and I shall not like being left behind. There is no place here or hereabout that I shall want to be staying at, and though to be sure the keep of two will be more than one, I will endeavour to make the difference less by disordering my stomach with bath buns, and as to the trouble of accommodating us, whether there are one or two, it is much the same. According to the first plan, my mother and our two selves are to travel down together, and my father follow us afterwards, in about a fortnight

or three weeks. We have promised to spend a couple of days at Ibbthorpe in our way. We must all meet at Bath, you know, before we sit out for the sea, and everything considered, I think the first plan as good as any. My father and mother, wisely aware of the difficulty of finding in all baths such a bed as their own, have resolved on taking it with them. All the beds indeed that we shall want are to be removed, namely, besides theirs, our own two, the best for a spare one, and two for servants, and these necessary articles will probably be the only material ones that it would answer to send down. I do not think it would be worthwhile to remove any of our chests of drawers. We shall be able to get some of a much more commodious sort.

made of deal and painted to look very neat, and I flatter myself that for little comforts of all kinds, our apartment will be one of the most complete things of the sort all over Bath, Bristol included. We have thought at times of removing the sideboard, or a Pembroke table, or some other piece of furniture. But upon the whole, it has ended in thinking that the trouble and risk of the removal would be more than the advantage of having them at a place where everything may be purchased. Pray, send your opinion. Martha has as good as promised to come to us again in March. Her spirits are better than they were.

My mother bargains for having no trouble at all in furnishing our house in Bath, and I am engaged for your willingly undertaking to do at all. I get more and more reconciled to the idea of our removal. We have lived long enough in this neighbourhood. The basing-stoke balls are certainly on the decline. There is something very interesting in the bustle of going away, and the prospect of spending future summers by the sea, or in Wales, is very delightful. For a time we shall now possess many of the advantages, which I have often thought up with envy in the wives of sailors or soldiers.

It must not be generally known, however, that I am not sacrificing a great deal in quitting the country, or I can expect to inspire no tenderness, no interest in those we leave behind. Yours affectionately, J.A. End of Section 8. Section 9 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 19 Steventon, Thursday, January 8th.

My dear Cassandra The perhaps, which concluded my last letter, being only a perhaps, will not occasion your being overpowered with surprise, I dare say, if you should receive this before Tuesday, which, unless circumstances are very perverse, will be the case. I received yours with much generous. general philanthropy, and still more peculiar good well, two days ago. And I suppose I need not tell you that it was very long, being written on a full scape sheet, and very entertaining, being written by you. Mr. Payne has been dead long enough for Henry to be out of mourning for him before his last

visit, though we knew nothing of it till about that time. Why he died, or of what complaint, or to what nobleman he bequeathed his four daughters in marriage, we have to-heeded to his four daughters in marriage, we have not heard. I am glad that the Wildmans are going to give a ball, and I hope you will not fail to benefit both yourself and me by laying out a few kisses in the purchase of a franc. I believe you are right in proposing to delay the Cambric muslin, and I submit with a kind of voluntary reluctance. Mr. Peter de Barry has declined Dean Curacy. He wishes to be settled near London. A foolish reason. As if Dean were not near London and comparison of Exeter or York. Take the whole world through, and he will find many more places at a

greater distance from London than Dean than he will at a less. What does he think of Glencoe, or Lake Catherine? I feel rather indignant that any possible objection should be raised against so valuable a piece of preferment, so delightful a situation. That Dean should not be universally allowed to be as near the metropolis as any other country villages. As this is the case, however, as Mr. Peter de Barry has shown himself a Peter in the blackest sense of the word, we are obliged to look elsewhere for an air. And my father has thought it a necessary compliment to James Digweed to offer the curacy to him, though without considering it as either a desirable or an eligible situation for him. Unless he is in love with Miss Lyford, I think he

it better not be settled exactly in this neighbourhood, and unless he is very much in love with her indeed, he is not likely to think of salary of fifty pounds, equal in value or efficiency, to one of seventy-five pounds. Where you, indeed, be considered as one of the fixtures of the house, but you were never actually erected in it either by Mr. Egerton Bridges or Mrs. Lloyd. You are very kind in planning presents for me to make, and my mother has shown me exactly the same attention. But, as I do not choose to have generosity dictated to me, I shall not resolve on giving my cabinet to Anna till the first thought of it has been my own. Sidmouth is now talked of as our summer abode. Get all the information, therefore, about it that you can from Mrs. C. Cage.

My father's old ministers are already deserting him to pay their court to his son. The brown mare, which, as well as the black, was to devolve on James at our removal, has not had patience to wait for that, and has settled herself even now at Dean. The death of Hugh Caput, which, like that of Mr. Scipsey, though undesired, was not only unexpected, being purposely affected, has made the immediate possession of the mayor very convenient, and everything else, I suppose, will be seized by degrees in the same manner. Martha and I work at the books every day. Yours affectionately.

J.A. Letter 20 Steventon, Wednesday, January 14th. Poor Miss Austin. It appears to me that I have rather oppressed you of late by the frequency of my letters. You had hoped not to hear from me again before Tuesday. But Sunday showed you with what a merciless sister you had to deal. I cannot recall the past. But you shall not hear from me quite so often in future.

Your letter to Mary was duly received before she left Dean with Martha yesterday morning, and it gives us great pleasure to know that the Chillam Ball was so agreeable, and that you danced four dances with Mr. Kemble. Desirable, however, as the latter circumstance was, I cannot help but wonder at its taking place. Why did you dance four dances with so stupid a man? Why not rather dance two of them with some, elegant brother officer, who was struck with your appearance as soon as you entered the room.

Martha left you her best love. She will write to you herself in a short time. But trusting to my memory, rather than her own, she has nevertheless desired me to ask you to purchase for her two bottles of steel's lavender water when you are in town, provided you should go to the shop on your own account, otherwise you may be sure that she would not have you recollect the request. James dined with us yesterday, wrote to Edward in the evening, filled three sides of paper, every line inclining too much towards the northeast, and the very first line of all scratched out, and this morning he joins his lady in the fields of Elysium and Ibthorpe. Last Friday was a very busy day with us. We were visited by Miss Leiford and Mr. Bale.

The latter began his operations in the house, but had only time to finish the four sitting-rooms. The rest is deferred till the spring is more advanced. and the days longer. He took his paper of appraisment away with him, and therefore we only know the estimate he is made of one or two articles of furniture, which my father particularly inquired into. I understand, however, that he was of opinion that the whole would amount to more than two hundred pounds, and it is not imagined that this will comprehend the brew-house and many other, etc., etc. Miss Lyford was very pleasant, and gave my mother such an account of the houses in Westgate buildings, where Mrs. Lyford lodged four years ago, as made you think of a situation there with

great pleasure. But your opposition will be without difficulty decisive, and my father, in particular, who was very well inclined towards the row before, has now ceased to think of it entirely. At present, the environs of Laura Place seemed to be his choice. His views on the subject are much advanced since I came home. He goes quite ambitious, and actually requires now comfortable and a creditable-looking house. On Saturday, Miss Leifford went to her long home, that is to say, it was a long way off, and soon afterwards a party of fine ladies issuing from a well-known commodious green vehicle, their heads full of bantam cocks and gallonies, entered the house. Mrs. Heathcote, Mrs. Harwood, Mrs. James Austin, Miss Big, Miss Jane Blackford.

Hardly a day passes in which we do not have some visitor or other. Yesterday came Mrs. Bramston, who is very sorry that she is to lose us, and afterwards Mr. Holder, who was shut up for an hour with my father and James in a most awful manner. John Bond et al-Louis Letter 21 Stephenton, Wednesday, January 21st. Expect a most agreeable letter, for not being overburdened with subject, having nothing at all to say. have no check to my genius from beginning to end. Well, and so Prank's letter has made you very happy, but you are afraid he would not have patience

to stay for the Harlem, which you wished him to have done as being safer than the merchantman. Poor fellow! To wait from the middle of November to the end of December, and perhaps even longer. It must be sad work, especially in a place where the ink is so abominably pale. What a surprise to him it must have been on October 20th to be visited, collared, and thrust out of the petrol by Captain Inglis. He kindly passes over the poignancy of his feelings in quitting his ship, his officers, and his men. What a pity it is that he should not be in England at the time of his promotion, because he certainly would have had an appointment, so everybody says,

and therefore it must be right for me to say it too. Had he really been here, the certainty of the appointment, I dare say, would not have been half so great. But as it could not be brought to the proof, his absence will, always be a lucky source of regret. Eliza talks of having read in a newspaper that all the first-lieutenants of the frigates, whose captains were to be sent into line of battleships, were to be promoted to the ranks of commanders. If it be true, Mr. Valentine may afford himself a fine Valentine's knot,

and Charles may perhaps become first of the Indymion, though I suppose Captain Durham is too likely to bring a villain with him under that denomination. The neighbourhood has quite recovered the death of Mrs. Ryder, so much so, that I think they are rather rejoiced at it now. Her things were so very dear, and Mrs. Rogers is to be all that is desirable. Not even death itself can fix the friendship of the world. The Wilmots being robbed must be an amusing thing to their acquaintance, and I hope it is as much their pleasure as it seems their avocation to be subjects of general entertainment. I have a great mind not to acknowledge the receipt of your letter, which I have just had the

pleasure of reading, because I am so ashamed to compare the sprawling lines of this with it. But if I say all that I have to say, I hope I have no reason to hang myself. Why did not J.D. make his proposals to you? I suppose he went to see the cathedral, that he might know how he should like to be married in it. End of Section 9. Section 10. Of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 22 Southampton Wednesday, January 7th, 1807

My dear Cassandra You are mistaken in supposing I should expect your letter on Sunday. I had no idea of hearing from you before Tuesday, and my pleasure yesterday was therefore unheard by any previous disappointment. I thank you for writing so much. You must really have sent me the value of two letters and one. We are extremely glad to hear that Elizabeth is so much better, and hope you'll be sensible of still further amendment in her when you return from Canterbury.

Of your visit there I must now speak incessantly. It surprises but pleases me more, and I consider it as a very just and honourable distinction of you, and not less to the credit of Mrs. Knight. I have no doubt if you're spending your time with her most pleasantly in quiet and rational conversation, and am so far from thinking her expectations of you will be deceived, that my only fear is of your being so agreeable, and so much to her taste, as to make a wish to keep you with her forever. If that should be the case, we must remove to Canterbury, which I should not like so well as Southampton. When you receive this, our guests will be all gone,

or going, and I shall be left to the comfortable disposal of my time, to ease of mind from the torments of rice puddings and apple dumplings, and probably to regret that I did not take more pains to please them all. Mrs. J. Austin has asked me to return with her to Steventon. I need not give my answer, and she has invited my mother to spend there the time of Mrs. F.A.'s confinement, which she seems half inclined to do. A few days ago I had to have a few days ago I have to had a letter from Miss Irvine, and as I was in her debt, you will guess it to be a remonstrance, not a very severe one, however. The first page is in her usual retrospective, jealous, inconsistent style, but the remainder is chatty and harmless. She supposes my silence may have

proceeded from resentment of her not having written to inquire particularly after my whooping cough, etc. She is a funny one. I have answered her letter. and have endeavoured to give something like the truth, with as little insavility as I could, by placing my silence to the want of subject in the very quiet way in which we live. Phoebe has repented and stays. I have also written to Charles, and I answered Miss Buller's letter by return of post, as I intended to tell you in my last. Two or three things I recollected when it was too late that I might have told you. One is that the well-bees have lost their eldest son by a putrid fever at Eton, and another that Tom Shoot is going to settle in Norfolk.

You have scarcely ever mentioned Lizzie since your being at Godmisham. I hope it is not because she is altered for the worse. I cannot yet satisfy Fanny as to Mrs. Futt's baby's name, and I must not encourage her to expect a good one, as Captain Foote is a professed adversary to all but the plainest. He likes only Mary, Elizabeth, Anne, etc. Our best chance is of Caroline, which, in compliment to a sister, seems the only exception. He dined with us on Friday, and I fear will not soon venture again, for the strength of our dinner was a boiled leg of mutton, underdone even for James, and Captain Foote has a particular dislike to underdone mutton. But he was so good-humoured and pleasant that I did not.

not much mind his being starved. He gives us all the most cordial invitation to his house in the country, saying just what the Williams ought to say to make us welcome. Of them we have seen nothing since you left us, and we hear that they are just gone to bath again to be out of the way of further alterations at Brooklyn's. Mrs. F. A. has had a very agreeable letter from Mrs. Dixon, who is delighted with the purse, and desires her not to provide herself with a christening dress, which is exactly what her young correspondent wanted, and she means to defer making any of the caps as long as she can,

in hope of having Mrs. Dee's present in time to be serviceable as a pattern. She desires me to tell you that the gowns were cut out before your letter arrived, but that they are long enough for Caroline. The beds, as I believe they are called, have fallen to Frankshire to continue, and, of course, are cut out to admiration. Alfonzine did not do. We were disgusted in twenty pages. as, independent of a bad translation, it has indelicacies which disgrace a pen hitherto so pure,

and we changed it for the female Quixote, which now makes our evening amusement, to me a very high one, as I find the work quite equal to what I remembered it. Mrs. F. A., to whom it is new, enjoys it as one could wish. The other Mary, I believe, has little pleasure from that, or any book. My mother does not seem at all more disappointed than ourselves at the termination of the family treaty. She thinks less of that just now than of the comfortable state of her own finances, which she finds on closing her year's accounts beyond her expectation, as she now begins the new year with a balance of £30 in her favour.

And when she has written her answer to my aunt, which you know always hangs a little upon her mind, she will be above the world entirely. You will have a great deal of unreserved discourse with Mrs. Kay, I dare say, upon this subject, as well as upon many other of our family matters. Abuse everybody, but me. Thursday We expected James yesterday, but he did not come. If he comes at all now, his visit will be a very short one, as he must return to-morrow, that Ajax and the chair may be sent to Winchester on Saturday. Caroline's new police depended upon her mother's being able or not to come so far in the chair.

How the guinea that will be saved by the same means of return is to be spent, I know not. Mrs. J.A. does not talk much of poverty now, though she has no hope of my brothers being able to buy another horse next summer. Their scheme against Warwickshire continues, but I doubt the family's being at Stonley so early as James says he must go, which is May. My mother is afraid I have not been explicit enough on the subject of her wealth. She began 1806 with 68 pounds. She begins 1807 with 99 pounds, and this after 32 pounds purchase of stock. Frank, too, has been settling his accounts and making calculations, and each party feels quite equal to our present expenses.

But much increase of house rent would not do for either. Frank limits himself, I believe, to 400 a year. You will be surprised to hear that Jenny is not yet come back. We have heard nothing of her since her reaching itchings well, and I can only suppose that she must be detained by illness in somebody or other, and that she has been each day expecting to be able to come on the morrow. I am glad I did not know beforehand that she was to be absent during the whole, or almost the whole of our friends being with us. For though the inconvenience has not been nothing, I should have feared still more. Our dinners have certainly suffered not a little by having only Molly's head and Molly's hands to conduct them. She fries better than she did, but not like Jenny. We did not take our walk on Friday. It was too dirty, nor have we yet done it. We may perhaps do something like it today, as after seeing Frank's skate, which she hopes to do in the meadows by the beach, we are to treat ourselves with a passage over the ferry. It is one of the pleasantest frosts I ever knew, so very quiet. I hope it will last some of the

last some time longer for Frank's sake, who is quite anxious to get some skating. He tried yesterday, but it would not do. Our acquaintance increased too fast. He was recognised lately by Admiral Bertie, and a few days since arrived the Admiral and his daughter Catherine to wait upon us. There was nothing to like or dislike in either. To the Berties are to be added the lances, with whose cards we have been endowed, and whose visit Frank and I have returned yesterday. They live, and live, and about a mile and three quarters from S to the right of the new road to Portsmouth, and I believe their house is one of those which are to be seen almost anywhere among the woods on the other side of the itchen. It is a handsome building, stands high, and in a very beautiful situation.

We found only Mrs. Lance at home, and whether she boasts any offspring besides a grand pianoforte did not appear. She was civil and chatty enough, and offered to introduce us to some acquaintance in Southampton, which we gratefully declined. I suppose they must be acting by the orders of Mr. Lance of Netherton in this civility, as there seems no other reason for their coming near us. They will not come often, I dare say. They live in a handsome style, and are rich, and she seemed to like to be rich, and we gave her to understand that we were far from being so. She will soon fear, therefore, that we are not worth her acquaintance. You must have heard from Martha by this time, We have had no accounts of Kindbury since her letter to me.

Mrs. F. A. has had one fainting fit lately. It came on as usual after eating a hearty dinner, but did not last long. I can recollect nothing more to say. When my letter is gone, I suppose I shall. Yours affectionately, J.A. I have just asked Caroline if I should send her love to her god-mama, to which she answered, Yes. Letter 23. Southampton, February 8th. Our garden is putting in order by a man who bears a remarkably good character, but has a very fine complexion, and asks something less than the first. The shrubs which border the gravel walk, he says, are only sweet briar and roses, and the latter of an indifferent sort.

We mean to get a few of a better kind, therefore, and at my own particular desire he procures us some syringas. I could not do without a syringa for the sake of Cowper's line. We talk also of a laburnum. The border under the terrace wall is clearing away to receive currants and goose-free bushes, and a spot is found very proper for raspberries. The alterations and improvements within doors, too, advance very properly, and the offices will be made very convenient indeed. Our dressing-table is constructing on the spot,

out of a large kitchen table belonging to the house, for doing which we have permission of Mr. Huskett, Lord Landstown's painter. Domestic painter, I should call him, for he lives in the castle. Domestic chaplains have given way to this more necessary office, and I suppose whenever the walls want no touching up, he is employed about my lady's face. The morning was so wet that I was afraid we should not be able to see our little visitor, but Frank, who alone could go to church, called for her after service,

and she is now talking away at my side and examining the treasures of my writing-desk drawers. Very happy, I believe. Not at all shy, of course. Her name is Catherine and her sister's Caroline. She is something like a brother, and as short for her age, but not so well-looking.

What has become of all the shyness in the world? Moral as well as natural diseases disappear in the progress of time, and new ones take their place. shyness and the sweating sickness have given way to confidence and paralytic complaints. Evening Our little visitor has just left us, and left us highly pleased with her. She is a nice, natural, open-hearted, affectionate girl, with all the ready civility which one sees in the best children in the present day,

so unlike anything that I was myself at her age, and I am often all astonishment and shame. Half a time was spent at Spillikins, which I consider as a very valuable part of our household furniture, and is not the least important benefaction from the family of Knight to that of Austin. But I must tell you a story. Mary has for some time had notice from Mrs. Dixon of the intended arrival of a certain Miss Fowler in this place. Miss F. is an intimate friend of Mrs. D., and a good deal known as such to Mary. On Thursday last she called here while we were out. Mary found, on our return, her card with only her name on it, and she had left word that

she would call again. The particularity of this made us talk, and among our other conjectures, Frank said in joke, I dare say she is staying with the Pearson's. The connection of the name struck Mary, and she immediately recollected Miss Fowler's having been very intimate with persons so called, and, upon putting everything together, we have have scarcely a doubt of her being actually staying with the only family in the place whom we cannot visit. What a contra-tant, in the language of France.

What an unluckiness, in that of Madame Duvall. The black gentleman has certainly employed one of his menial imps to bring about this complete, though trifling mischief. Miss F. has never called again, but we are in daily expectation of it. Miss P has, of course, given her a proper understanding of the business. evident that Miss F. did not expect or wish to have the visit returned, and Frank is quite as much on his guard for his wife as we could desire for her sake, or our own. We shall rejoice in being so near Winchester when Edward belongs to it, and can never have our spare bed filled

more to our satisfaction than by him. Thus he leave Elton at Easter. We are reading at Clarentine, and are surprised to find how foolish it is. I remember liking it much less on a second reading than at the first, and it does not bear a third at all. It is full of unnatural conduct and forced difficulties, without striking merit of any kind. Miss Harrison is going into Devonshire to attend Mrs. Dunstanoy, as usual. Miss Jay is married to young Mr. G. and is to be very unhappy. He swears, drinks, is cross, jealous, selfish and brutal. The match makes a family miserable, and has occasioned his being disinherited. The Browns are added to our list of acquaintance. He commands the sea-fensibles here under Sir Thomas, and was introduced at his own desire by the latter when we saw him last week.

As yet the gentleman only have visited, as Mrs. B. is ill, but she is a nice-looking woman, and wears one of the prettiest straw bonnets in the place. Monday The garret beds are made, and ours will be finished to-day. I had hoped it would be finished on Saturday, but neither missed. Hall nor Jenny was able to give help enough for that, and I have as yet done very little, and Mary nothing at all. This week we shall do more, and I should like to have all the five beds completed by the end of it. There will then be the window curtains, sofa cover, and a carpet to be altered. I should not be surprised if we were to be visited by James again this week. He gave us reason to expect him soon, and if they go to Eversley, he cannot come next week.

There, I flatter myself I have constructed you a smartish letter, considering my want of materials, but like my dear Dr. Johnson, I believe I have dealt more in notions than facts. I hope your cough is gone, and that you are otherwise well, and remain with love. Yours affectionately, J.A. End of Section 10. Section 11 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevax recording is in the podcast. Public Domain.

Letter 24 Godmisham, Wednesday, June 15th, 1808. My dear Cassandra, where shall I begin? Which of all my important nothing 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

14 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 sitting-born 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 some sitting-born, and so off we drove, drove, drove, and by six o'clock were at Godmisham.

Our two brothers were walking before the house as we approached, as natural as life. Fanny and Lizzie met us in the hall with a great deal of pleasant joy. We went for a few minutes into the breakfast parlour, and then proceeded to our rooms. Mary has the hall-chamber. I am in the yellow room, very literally, for I'm writing in it at this moment. It's a very seems odd to me to have such a place all to myself, and to be at Godmisham 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 a Medward 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 is 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 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 is struck ten. I must go to breakfast. Since breakfast I have had a tete-a-tete with Edward in his room. He wanted to know James's plans and mine, and from what his own now are, I think it's 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 is 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 encumbrance 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 Stoneley. The brewery scheme is quite 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. Letter 25 Castle Square October 13th. 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 suffering 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 poem. We shall, of course, hear from you very soon, and as often as you can write. We will write as you desire, and I shall add Bookham. Hamstrel, I suppose, you write to yourselves, as you do not mention it. What a comfort that Mrs. Deeds is saved from present misery and alarm! But it will fall heavy upon poor Harriet.

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 longed 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, Jay Austin. I will write to Catherine. Perhaps you can give me some directions about mourning. Letter 26. Castle Square, Saturday night, October 15th. 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 and 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 debaunted 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 Lizzie 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 Bombazine and Crape, according to what we are told is universal here,

and which agrees with Martha's previous observation. My morning, however, will not impoverish me, for by having my velvet police 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 police 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 Big, in reply to a letter from her. She tells us in confidence that Catherine is to be married on Tuesday, Sunnight,

Mr. Hill is expected it many down in the course of the ensuing week. We are desired by Mrs. Harrison and Miss Austin 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 Goodiston 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 correspondence. 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 has 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 grandson 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. Tomorrow will be a dreadful day for you all. Mr. Whitfields 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 to gradually supply to him, to the extent that is possible, what he has lost. This consideration will elevate and cheer her.

Adia, you cannot write too often, as I said before. We are heartily rejoiced that the poor baby gives you no particular anxiety. Kiss, dear Lizzie for us. Tell Fanny that I shall write in a day or two to Miss Sharp. My mother is not ill. Yours most truly, Jay Austin. Tell Henry that a hamper of apples is gone to him from Kintbury, and that Mr. Fowell intended writing on Friday, supposing him in London, to beg that the charts, etc, may be consigned to the care of the Palmas. Mrs. Fowl has also written to Miss Palmer to beg she will send for them. End of Section 11.

Section 12 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Letter 27 Castle Square, Monday, October 24th. 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 great coat 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 effect. 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. Bilbo-catch, 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 far 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. Tomorrow I hope to hear from you, and tomorrow we must think of poor Catherine. Today 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 have to have. 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 familiarised 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.

Until this proposal was made, we began to look forward to it here. My mother was actually talking of a house at Y. 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. Philpot, to Lady Francis St. Lawrence. She wanted to have a husband, I suppose, once in her life, and he a Lady Francis. 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 key, 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 that 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 today. 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 for what it should, for them or for us. We had a little water party yesterday. I and my two nephews were, 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 today. The tide is just right for our going immediately after moonshine, but I'm afraid there will be rain. If we cannot get so far, however, we may perhaps go round from the ferry to the key. I had not proposed doing more than cross the Itchon 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

rode 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 and 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 tomorrow 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 today, that we may not give them a dark drive tomorrow. 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 Godmisham. Of Chorton, 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 today from Kintbury. Mrs. Fowell'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 Garrett is almost covered. Love to all. Yours very affectionately. J.A. Letter 28. Castle Square

Sunday, November 21st. 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 Godmisham exactly at the time now fixed for your visit to Goodnessstone. 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 Goodnesdon may admit of suitable alteration. Your news of Edward Bridges was quite news, for I have had no letter from Rotham. 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, Harry, it 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 Chorton. Henry wrote to my first. 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 storeplaces, 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 while 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. Fowl has for some time been in on

the secret, but the neighbourhood in general were quite unsuspicious. Mr. Maxwell was tutored of the young Gregories. 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 Spine Hill. I have a Southampton match to return for your Kentish one, Captain G. Heathcote and Miss A. Lyle. I have it from Alethea, and like it, because I had made it before. Yes, the stonly 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. Lee's deleterious, 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. Lee's death, and Henry's two thousand pounds neither agrees with that period, nor any other. I do 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

Stonley. 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 to the Miss Liles one day, and had a good account of Mr. Heathcote's canvas, the success of which, of course, exceeds his expectations. Alethea in her letter hopes for my interest, which I conclude means Edwards, 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. Thistleweight, 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. Holberts, we learned from Kinbury, come to Stephenton this week, and bring Mary Jane Fowl with them on her way to Mrs. Noons. 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 for you. The furniture of Bellevue is to be sold tomorrow, and we shall take it in our usual walk, if the weather be favourable.

How could you have had a wet day on Thursday? With us it was the Prince of Days, the most delightful we have had for weeks, soft, bright, with a brisk wind from the south-west. Everybody was out and talking of spring, and Martha and I did not know how to turn back. On Friday evening we had 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 to 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 prose 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 Mama, 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. End of Section 12. Section 13 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Letter 29 Castle Square, Friday, December 9th

Many thanks, my dear Cassandra, to you and Mr. Deeds 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 hole and speeding truth into the world.

But all this, as my dear Mrs. Piazzi 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 police, 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., in finding in Miss Lloyd a friend of Mrs. Dunders, had another motive for the acquaintance. She seems a really agreeable woman. That is, her man is a gentle, and she knows a great many of our connections in West Kent.

Mrs. Bertie lives in the polygon, and is 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 Chorton, 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 proof of the interest she takes in me, and he 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 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 Doven. 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 Doven has got a ship. Martha and I made use of the very favourable state of yesterday for walking, to pay our due 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 was 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 Hiliad, 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 nannies 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 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 a hundred pounds a year. We hear a bit 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 greatest kindness, and intended as a compensation for his loss in the conscientious refusal of Hampstead living, a hundred pounds 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 Mirden 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 to have to have a little.

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—manuscript 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 Fourth 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 Alford's and Bath, whether they'd removed, it seems, from Hampshire, and who now wishes to convey to the Miss Alford's 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. Letter 30 Castle Square, Tuesday, December 27th. 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 Chowell's 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 Sond's 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 is 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 Tet Artet with Sir B makes any change in our expectations here. He could not really be 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 able 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's 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 chairman, before we got 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 whiggin and 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 that 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' income to be eleven hundred pounds, curate paid, which makes us very happy.

The ascertainment as well as the income. Mary does not want to 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 many down was once more in agitation. It is called a child's ball, and given by Mrs. Heathcote to William. Such was its beginning, at least, but it will probably swell into something more. Edward was invited during his stay at Many Down, and it is to take place between this and twelfth day. Mrs. Holbert 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 Palmer's, that they were all well at Bermuda in the beginning of November. Wednesday Yesterday must have been a day, of sad remembrance at Godmisham. 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. Wyn 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 are so totally deaf that they say he could not hear a cannon, writ-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. Wynn 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 was very fair for comfort. When she leaves Steventon, she comes to board and lodge with Mrs. Hooky, the chemist,

for there is no Mr. Hooky. 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 lately been adding to her possessions in plate, a whole tablespoon and a whole dessert spoon, and six whole teaspoon. which makes our sideboard border on the magnificent.

They are mostly the produce of old or useless silver. I have turned with the eleven S in the list into twelve-s, 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 Sond's 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 affixed 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 Earl Harwood speaks of him. He is looked up to by everybody in all America.

I shall not tell you anything more of William 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 neighbours. I would have or 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 piano forte, as good a oneness can be got for 30 guineas, and I will practice 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 Chaplains about £14,000 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 Godmisham 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 Jr. and his brothers, and I hope speculation is generally liked. Fair you well. Yours affectionately, Jay Austin

My mother has not been out of doors this week, but she keeps pretty well. We have received through Bookham in a different account of your godmother. End of Section 13. Section 14 of the letters of Jane Austen This Librovac's recording is in the public domain. Letter 31 Castle Square, Tuesday, January 10, 1809 I am not surprised, my dear Cassandra, that you did not find my last letter very full of matter,

and I wish this may not have the same deficiency, but we are doing nothing ourselves to write about, and I am therefore quite dependent upon the communications of our friends, or my own wits. This post brought me two interesting letters, yours, and one from Bookham, in answer to an inquiry of mine about your good godmother, of whom we had lately received a very alarming account from Paragon. Miss Arnold was the informant then, and she spoke of Mrs. E. L. having been very dangerously ill, and attended by a physician from Oxford. Your letter to Adelstrop may perhaps bring you

information from the spot. But in case it should not, I must tell you that she is better. Though Dr. Bourne cannot yet call her out of danger, such was the case last Wednesday, and Mrs. Cook's having had no later account as a favourable sign. I am to hear again from the latter next week, but not this, if everything goes on well. Her disorder is an inflammation on the lungs, arising from a severe chill taken in church last Sunday three weeks. Her mind all part, highest composure, as may be supposed. George Cook was there when her illness began. His brother has now taken his place.

Her rage and feebleness considered, one's fears cannot but preponderate. One's fears cannot but preponderate, though her amendment has already surpassed the expectation of the physician at the beginning. I am sorry to add that Becky is laid up with a complaint of the same kind. I am very glad to have a time of your return at all fixed. We all rejoice in it, and it will not be later than I had expected. I dare not hope that Mary and Miss Curling may be detained at Portsmouth so long, or half so long, but it would be worth tuppence to have it so.

The St. Albans perhaps may soon be off to help bring home what may remain by this time of our poor army, whose state seems dreadfully critical. The Regency seems to have been heard of only here. My most political correspondence make no mention of it. unlucky that I should have wasted so much reflection on the subject. I can now answer your question to my mother more at large, and likewise more at small, with equal perspicuity and minuteness. For the very day of our leaving Southampton is fixed, and if the knowledge is of no use to Edward, I am sure it will give him pleasure.

Easter Monday, April 3rd is the day. We are to sleep that night at Alton, and be with our friends at Bookham the next, if they are then at home. There we shall remain till the following Monday, and on Tuesday, April 11th, hoped to be at Godmisham. If the cooks are absent, we shall finish our journey on the fifth. These plans depend, of course, upon the weather, but I hope there will be no settled cold to delay us materially. To make you amends for being at Bookham, it is in contemplation to spend a few days at Baton Lodge in our way out of Kent. The hint of such a visit is most affectionately welcomed by Mrs. Birch, in one of her odd pleasant letters lately, in which she speaks of her.

us with the usual distinguished kindness, declaring that she shall not be at all satisfied, unless a very handsome present is made us immediately from one quarter. Fanny's not coming with you is no more than we expected, and as we have not the hope of a bed for her, and she'll see her so soon afterwards at Godmisham, we cannot wish it otherwise. William will be quite recovered, I trust, by the time you receive this. What a comfort his cross-stitch must have been! Pray tell him that I should like to see his work very much. I hope our answers this morning have given satisfaction.

We had great pleasure in Uncle Deeds's packet, and pray let Marianne know, in private, that I think she is quite right to work a rug for Uncle John's coffee earn, and that I am sure it must give great pleasure to herself now, and to him when he receives it. The preference of brag over speculation does not greatly surprise me, I believe, because I feel the same myself. But it mortifies me deeply, because speculation was under my patronage, and after all,

what is there so delightful in a pair royal of braggers? It is but three nines, or three knaves, or a mixture of them. When one comes to reason upon it, it cannot stand its ground against speculation, of which I hope Edward is now convinced. Give my love to him, if he is. The letter from Paragon before mentioned was much like those which had preceded it, as to the felicity of its writer. They found their house so dirty and so damp that they were obliged to be a week at an inn. John Binns had behaved most unhandsomely, and engaged himself elsewhere. They have a man, however, on the same footing, which my aunt does not like, and she finds both him and the new maid-servant very, very inferior to Robert and Martha. Whether they mean to have

any other domestics does not appear, nor whether they are to have a carriage while they are in Bath. The holders are as usual, though I believe it is not very usual for them to be happy, which they now are at a great rate, in Hooper's marriage. The Irvines are not mentioned. The American lady improved as we went on, but still the same faults in part occurred. We are now in Marjiana, and like it very well indeed. We are just going to set off for Northumberland, to be shut up in Whedrington Tower, where there must be two or three sets of victims already amurred,

under a very fine villain. Wednesday. Your report of Elias's health gives me great pleasure, and the progress of the bank is a constant source of satisfaction. With such increasing profits, tell Henry that I hope he will not work poor high-diddle so hard as he used to do. Has your newspaper given a sad story of a Mrs. Middleton, wife of a farmer in Yorkshire, her sister and servant,

being almost frozen to death in the late weather, her little child quite so? I hope the sister is not our friend, Miss Wood, and I rather think her brother-in-law had moved into Lincolnshire, but their name and station accord too well. Mrs. M. and the maid are said to be tolerably recovered, but the sister is likely to lose the use of her limbs. Charles's rug will be finished today, and sent to-morrow to Frank, to be consigned by him to Mr. Turner's care, and I am going to send Marmy and out with it. Very generous in me,

I think. As we have no letter from Olderstrop, we may suppose the good woman was alive on Monday, but I cannot help expecting bad news from Vents or book them in a few days. Do you continue quite well? Have you nothing to say of your little namesake? We join in love and many happy returns. Yours affectionately, Jay Austin. The men are down ball was a smaller thing than I expected, but it seems to have made Anna very happy. At her age, it would not have been a very happy. At her age, it would not done for me. Letter 32. Castle Square, Tuesday, January 17th. My dear Cassandra, I am happy to say that we had no second letter from Bookham last week.

Yours has brought its usual measure of satisfaction and amusement, and I beg your acceptance of all the thanks do on the occasion. Your offer of cravats is very kind, and happens to be particularly adapted to my wants, but it was an odd thing to occur to you. Yes, we have got another fall of snow and a very dreadful. Everything seems to turn to snow this winter. I hope you have had no more illness among you, and that William will be soon as well as ever. His working a footstool for Chorton is a most agreeable surprise to me, and I am sure his grandmamma will value it very much as a proof of his affection and industry,

but we shall never have the heart to put our feet upon it. I believe I must work a muslin cover in satin stitch to keep it from the dirt. I longed to know what his colours are. I guess greens and purples. Edward and Henry have started a difficulty respecting our journey, which I must own with some confusion, had never been thought of by us. But if the form were expected by it to prevent our travelling into Kent entirely, he will be disappointed, for we have already determined to go to the Croydon Road on leaving Bookham and sleep at Dartford.

Will not that do? There certainly does seem no convenient resting-place. on the other road. Anna went to Clanville last Friday, and I have hopes of her new aunt's being really worth her knowing. Perhaps you may never have heard that James and Mary paid a morning visit there in form some weeks ago, and Mary, though by no means disposed to like her, was very much pleased with her indeed. Her praise, to be sure, proves nothing more than Mrs. M's being civil and attentive to them, but her being so is in favour of her having good sense. Mary writes of Anna as improved in person, but gives her no other commendation.

I'm afraid her absence now may deprive her of one pleasure, for that silly Mr. Hammond is actually to give his ball on Friday. We had some reason to expect a visit from Earl Harwood and James this week, but they do not come. Miss Murden arrived last night at Mrs. Hookies, as a message and a basket announced to us. You will therefore return to an enlarged and, of course, improved society here, especially as the Miss Williams is a come back.

We were agreeably surprised the other day by a visit from your beauty and mine, each in a new cloth mantle and bonnet, and I dare say you will value yourself much on the modest propriety of Miss W.'s taste, hers being purple, and Miss Grace's scarlet. I can easily suppose that your six weeks hair will be fully occupied, were it only in lengthening the wastes of your gowns. I have pretty well arranged my spring and summer plans of that kind, and mean to wear out my spotted muslin before I go.

You will exclaim at this, but mine really has signs of feebleness, which with a little care may come to something. Martha and Dr. Mant are as bad as ever. He runs after her in the street to apologise for having spoken to a gentleman which he was near him the day before. Poor Mrs. Mant can stand it no longer. She is retired to one of her married daughters. When William returns to Winchester,

Mary Jane is to go to Mrs. Noons for a month, and then to Steventon for a fortnight, and it seems likely that she and her aunt Martha may travel into Berkshire together. We shall not have a month of Martha after your return, and that month will be a very interrupted and broken one, but we shall enjoy ourselves the more when we can get a quiet half-hour together. To set against your new novel, of which nobody ever heard before, and perhaps never may again, we have got Ida of Athens by Miss Owenson, which must be very clever, because it was written, as the authoress says, in three months. We've only read the preface yet, but her Irish girl does not make me expect much.

If the warmth of her language could affect the body, it might be worth reading in this weather. Adieu, I must leave off to stir the fire and cool on Miss Murden. Evening I've done them both, the first very often. We find our friend is. as comfortable as she can ever allow herself to be in cold weather. There is a very neat parlor behind the shop for her to sit in, not very light indeed, being a la Southampton, the middle of three deep, but very lively from the frequent sound of the pestle and mortar. We afterwards called on the

Miss Williams's, Who Lodge at Durnatoys. Who Lodge at Durantoy's. Miss Mary only was at home, and she is in very indifferent health. Dr. Hackett came in while we were there, and said that he never remembered such a severe winter as this in Southampton before? It is bad, but who do not suffer as we did last year, because the wind has been more northeast than northwest. For a day or two last week, my mother was very poorly, with return of one of her old complaints, but it did not last long, and seems to have left nothing bad behind it. She began to talk of a serious illness, her two last, having been preceded by the same symptoms, but, thank heaven she is now quite as well as one can expect her to be, in weather which deprives her of exercise.

Miss M. conveys to us a third volume of sermons, from Hamstall, just published, and which we are to like better than the two others. They are professedly practical, and for the use of country congregations. I have just received some verses in an unknown hand, and am desired to forward them to my nephew Edward at Godmisham. Alas, poor brag, thou boastful game, What now avails thine empty name? Where now is thy more distinguished fame? My day is o'er, and thine the same. For thou like me art thrown aside, at Godmisham this Christmas-tide.

And now across the table wide, each game save brag or speck is tried. Such is the mild ejaculation of tender-hearted speculation. Wednesday I expected to have a letter from somebody today, but I have not. Twice every day I think of a letter from Portsmouth. Miss Murden has been sitting with us this morning. As yet, she seems very well pleased with her situation. The worst part of her being in Southampton will be the necessity of one walking with her now and then, because she talks so loud that one is quite ashamed, but our dining hours are

luckily very different, which we shall take all reasonable advantage of. The Queen's birthday moves the assembly to this night instead of last, and as it is always fully attended, Martha and I expect an amusing show. We were in hopes of being independent of other companions by having the attendance of Mr. Austin and Captain Harwood, but as they fail us, we are obliged to look out for other help, and affixed on the wallops, as least likely to be troublesome. I have called on them this morning, and found them very willing, and I am sorry that you must wait a whole week for the particulars of the evening. I propose being asked to dance by our acquaintance, Mr. Smith, now Captain Smith, who has lately reappeared in Southampton. But I shall decline it. He saw Charles last August.

What an alarming bride, Mrs. Blank must have been. Such a parade is one of the most immodest pieces of modesty that one can imagine. To attract notice could have been her only wish. It augurs ill for her family. It announces not great sense, and though, therefore ensures boundless influence. I hope Fanny's visit is now taking place. You have said scarcely anything of her lately, but I trust you are as good friends as ever. Martha sends her love,

and hopes to have the pleasure of seeing you when you return to Southampton. You are to understand this message as being merely for the sake of a message to oblige me. Yours affectionately, Jay Austin. Henry never sent his love to me in your last, but I sent him mine. End of Section 14 Section 15

of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librivax recording is in the public domain. Letter 33 Castle Square, Tuesday, January 24th. My dear Cassandra I will give you the indulgence of a letter on Thursday this week instead of Friday, but I do not require you to write again before Sunday,

provided I may believe you and your finger going on quite well. Take care of your precious self. Do not work too hard. Remember that Aunt Cassandra is quite as scarce as Miss Beverly's. I had the happiness yesterday of a letter from Charles, but I shall say as little about it as possible, because I know that excruciating Henry will have had a letter likewise to make all my intelligence value less. It was written at Bermuda on the 7th and 10th of December. All well, and Fanny still only an expectation of being otherwise. He had taken a small prize in his late cruise, a French schooner, laden with sugar. But bad weather parted them, and she had not yet been heard of. His cruise ended December 1st.

My September letter was the latest he had received. This day three weeks you were to be in London, and I wish you better weather. Not for that you may have worse, for we now have nothing but ceaseless snow or rain, and insufferable dirt to complain of. No tempestuous winds nor severity of cold. Since I wrote last we have had something of each, but it is not genteel to rip up old grievances. You used me scandalously by not mentioning Edward Cooper's sermons.

I tell you everything, and it is unknown the mysteries you conceal from me. And, to add to the rest, you persevering a final E. To invalid, thereby putting it out of one's power to suppose Mrs. E. Lee, even for a moment, a veteran soldier. She good woman is, I hope, destined for some further placid enjoyment of her own excellence in this world,

for her recovery advances exceedingly well. I had this pleasant news in a letter from Bookham last Thursday, but as the letter was from Mary instead of her mother, you will guess her account was not equally good from home. Mrs. Cook had been confined to her bed some days by illness, but was then better, and Mary wrote in confidence of her continuing to mend. I have desired to hear again soon. You rejoice me by what you say of Fanny.

I hope she will not turn good for nothing this ever so long. We thought of and talked of her yesterday with sincere affection and wished her a long enjoyment of all the happiness to which she seems born. While she gives happiness to those about her, she is pretty sure of her own share. I am gratified by her having pleasure in what I write, but I wish the knowledge of my being exposed to her discerning criticism may not hurt my style by inducing too great a solicitude. I begin already to weigh my words and sentences more than I did, and I'm looking about for a sentiment, an illustration, or a metaphor, in every corner of the room.

Could my ideas flow as fast as the rain in the store closet, it would be charming. We have been in two or three dreadful states within the last week, from the melting of the snow, etc., and the contest between us in the closet has now ended in our defeat. I have been obliged to move almost everything out of it, and leave it to splash itself as it likes. You have by no means raised my curiosity after Caleb. My disinclination for it before was affected, but now it is real.

I do not like the evangelicals. Of course I shall be delighted when I read it like other people, but till I do, I dislike it. I am sorry my verses did not bring any return from Edward. I was in hopes they might, but I suppose he does not rate them high enough. It might be partiality, but they seemed to me purely classical, just like Homer and Virgil, Ovid, and propria quameribus. I had a nice brotherly letter from Frank the other day,

which, after an interval of nearly three weeks, was very welcome. No orders were come on Friday, and none would come yesterday. We should have heard today. I had supposed Miss C. would share her cousin's room here, but a message in this letter proves the contrary. I will make the garret as comfortable as I can, but the possibilities of that apartment are not great. My mother has been talking to Eliza about our future home,

and she, making no difficulty at all of the sweetheart, is perfectly disposed to continue with us, but till she is written home for Mother's approbation, cannot quite decide. Mother does not like to have her so far off. off. At Chawton she will be nine or ten miles nearer, which I hope will have its due influence. As for Sally, she means to play John Binns with us, in her anxiety to belong to our household again. Hitherto she appears a very good servant.

You depend upon finding all your plants dead, I hope. They look very ill, I understand. Your silence on the subject of our ball makes me suppose your curiosity too great for words. We were very well entertained, and could have stayed low. longer, but for the arrival of my list shoes to convey me home, and I did not like to keep them waiting in the cold. The room was tolerably full, and the ball opened by Miss Glynn. The Miss Lances had partners, Captain Dauvenia's friend appeared in regimentals, Caroline Maitland had an officer to flirt with, and Mr. John Harrison was deputed by Captain Smith, being himself absent, to ask me to dance. Everything went well, you see, especially after we had tucked Mrs.

Lance's neckerchief in behind, and fastened it with a pin. We had a very full and agreeable account of Mr. Hammond's ball from Anna last night. The same fluent pen has sent similar information I know into Kent. She seems to have been as happy as one could wish her, and the complacency of her mamma doing the honours of the evening must have made her pleasure almost as great. The grandeur of the meeting was beyond my hopes. I should like to have seen Anna's looks and performance,

but that sad, cropped head must have injured the full. former. Martha pleases herself with believing that if I had kept her counsel, you would never have heard of Dr. M's late behaviour, as if the very slight manner in which I mentioned it could have been all on which you found your judgment. I do not endeavour to undeceive her, because I wish her happy at all events, and know how highly she prizes happiness of any kind. She is, moreover, so full of kindness for us both, and sends you, in particular, so many good wishes about your finger, that I am willing to overlook a venial fault, and as Dr. M as a clergyman, their attachment, however immoral, has a decorous air.

Adieu, sweet you, this is grievous news from Spain. It is well that Dr. Moore was spared the knowledge of such a son's death. Yours affectionately, Jay Austen. Anna's hand gets better and better. It begins to be too good for any consequence. We send best love to dear little Lizzie, and Marianne in particular. The Portsmouth paper gave a melancholy history of a poor madwoman, escaped from confinement,

who said her husband and daughter, of the name of Payne, lived at Ashford and Kent. Do you own them? Letter 34 Castle Square, Monday, January 30th. My dear Cassandra, I was not much surprised yesterday by the agreeable surprise of your letter, and extremely glad to receive the assurance of your finger being well again. Here is such a wet day as was never seen.

I wish the poor little girls had better weather for their journey. They must amuse themselves with watching the raindrops down the windows. Sacri, I suppose, feels quite broken-hearted. I cannot have done with the weather without observing how delightfully mild it is. I am sure Fanny must enjoy it with us. Yesterday was a very blowing day. We got to church, however, which we had not been able to do for two Sundays before. I am not at all ashamed about the name of the novel.

having been guilty of no insult toward your handwriting. The diphthong I always saw, but knowing how fond you were of adding a vowel whenever you could, I attributed it to that alone, and the knowledge of the truth does the book no service. The only merit it could have was the name of Caleb, which has an honest, unpretending sound. But in Colibs, there is pedantry and affectation. Is it written only to classical scholars? I shall now try to say only what is necessary. I am weary of meandering, so expect a vast deal of small matter, concisely told, in the next two pages.

Mrs. Cook has been very dangerously ill, but is now, I hope, safe. I had a letter last week from George, Mary being too busy to write, and at that time the disorder was called of the typhus kind, and their alarm considerable. But yesterday brought me a much better account from Mary, the origin of the complaint being now ascertained to be bilious, and the strong medicines requisite promising to be effectual. Mrs. E. L. is so much recovered as to get into the dressing-room every day. A letter from Hamstall gives us the history of Sir Thomas Williams's return. The Admiral, whoever he might be, took a fancy to the Neptune, and having only a worn-out seventy-four to offer in lieu of it, Sir Thomas declined such a command, and his come-home passenger. Lucky man, to have

so fair an opportunity of escape. I hope his wife allows herself to be happy on the occasion, and does not give all her thoughts to being nervous. A great event happens this week at Hamstall in young Edward's removal to school. He is going to rugby, and is very happy in the idea of it. I wish his happiness may last, but it will be a great change to become a raw schoolboy from being a pompous sermon writer and a domineering brother. It will do him good, I dare say. Caroline has had a great escape from being burnt to death lately. As her husband gives the account, we must believe it true. Miss Murden is gone, called away by the critical state of Mrs. Pottinger, who has had another severe stroke, and is without sense or speech. Miss Murden wishes to return to

Southampton of Circumstice's suit, but it must be very doubtful. We have been obliged to turn away Choles, he grew so very drunken and negligent, and we have a man in his place, called Thomas. Martha desires me to communicate something concerning herself, which she knows will give you pleasure, as affording her very particular satisfaction. It is that she is to be in town this spring with Mrs. Dundas. I need not delay on the subject. You understand enough of the wise and wherefores to enter into her feelings, and to be conscious that of all possible arrangements it is the one most acceptable to her.

She goes to Barton on leaving us, and the family moved to town in April. What you tell me of Miss Sharp is quite new, and surprises me a little. I feel, however, as you do. She is born, poor thing, to struggle with evil, and her continuing with Miss B is, I hope, a proof that matters are not always so very bad between them, as her letters sometimes represent. Jenny's marriage I had heard of, and supposed you would do so too from Steventon, as I knew you were corresponding with Mary at the time. I hope she will not sully the respectable name she now bears. Your plan for Miss Curling is uncommonly considerate and friendly, and such as she must

surely jump at. Edward's going round by Steventon, as I understand he promises to do, can be no reasonable objection. Mrs. J. Austin's hospitality is just of the kind to enjoy such a visitor. We were very glad to know Aunt Fanny was in the country when we read of the fire. Pray give my best compliments to the Mrs. Finches, if they are at GM. I am sorry to find that Sir Jay Moore has a mother living, but though a very heroic son, he might not be a very necessary one to her happiness. Deacon Morel may be more to Mrs. Morell. I wish Sir John had united something of the Christian with the hero in his death. Thank heaven. We have had no one to care for particularly among the troops. No one, in fact,

nearer to us than Sir John himself. Colonel Maitland is safe and well. His mother and sisters were of course anxious about him, but there is no entering much into the solicitudes of that family. My mother is well, and gets out when she can with the same enjoyment, and apparently the same strength as hitherto. She hopes you will not omit begging Mrs. Seward to get the garden cropped for us, supposing she leaves the house too welly to make the garden any object to herself. We are very desirous of receiving your account of the house, for your observations will have a motive which can leave nothing to conjecture, and suffer nothing from want of memory. For one's own dear self, one ascertains and remembers everything. Lady Sons is an imprudent woman to come back

to her old neighbourhood again. I suppose she pretends never to have been. I suppose she pretends never to have married before, and wonders how her father and mother came to have her christened lady-sons. The store-closet, I hope, will never do so again, for much of the evil has proved to have proceeded from the gutter being choked up, and we have had it cleared. We had reason to rejoice in the child's absence at the time of the Thor, for the nursery was not habitable. We hear of similar disasters from almost everybody. No news from Portsmouth. We are very patient. Mrs. Charles Fowell desires to be kindly remembered to you. She is warmly interested in my brother and his family.

Yours very affectionately. Jay Austin. End of Section 15. Section 16 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Letter 35 Sloan Street, Thursday, April 18, 1811. My dear Cassandra,

I have so many little matters to tell you, tell you of that I cannot wait any longer before I begin to put them down. I spent Tuesday in Bentink Street. The cooks called here and took me back, and it was quite a cook day, for the Miss Rolls paid a visit while I was there, and Sam Arnold dropped in to tea. The badness of the weather disconcerted an excellent plan of mine, that of calling on Miss Beckford again, but from the middle of the day it rained incessantly. Mary and I, after disposing of her father and mother, went to the Liverpool Museum and the British Gallery, and I had some amusement at each, though my preference for men and women always inclines me to

attend more to the company than the sight. Mrs. Cook regrets very much that she did not see you when you called. It was owing to a blunder among the servants, for she did not know of our visit till we were gone. She seems tolerably well, but with the nervous part of her complaint, I fear, increases, and makes her more and more unwilling to part with Mary. I have proposed to the latter that she should go to Chorton with me, on the supposition of my travelling the Guildford Road, and she, I do believe, would be glad to do it. But perhaps it may be impossible. Unless a brother can be at home at that time, it certainly must. George comes to them to-day. I did not see Theo till late on Tuesday. He was gone to Ilford, but he came back in time

to show his usual nothing meaning, harmless, heartless civility. Henry, who had been confined the whole day to the bank, took me in his way home, and after putting life and wit into the party for a quarter of an hour, put himself and his sister into a hackney-coach. I bless my stars that I have done with Tuesday. But alas, Wednesday was likewise a day of great doings, for Manon and I took our walk to Grafton House, and I have a good deal to say on that, subject. I am sorry to tell you that I am getting very extravagant and spending all my money.

And what is worse for you, I have been spending yours, too. For an linen-draper's shock to which I went for a checked muslin, and for which I was obliged to give seven shillings a yard, I was tempted by a pretty coloured muslin, and bought ten yards of it on the chance of your liking it. But at the same time, if it should not suit you, you must not think yourself at all obliged to take it. It is only three shillings and sixpence a yard, and I should not in the least mind keeping the whole. In texture, it is just what we prefer, but its resemblance to green cruells I must own is not great,

for the pattern is a small red spot. And now I believe I have done all my commissions, except Wedgwood. I like my walk very much. It was shorter than I had expected, and the weather was delightful. We set off immediately after breakfast, and must have reached Grafton house by half-past eleven. But when we entered the shop, the whole counter was thronged, and we waited full half an hour before we could be attended to. When we were served, however, I was very well satisfied with my purchases. My bugle trimming at two shillings and fourpence, and three pair silk stockings, for a little less than twelve shillings a pair. In my way back, who should I meet but Mr. Moore, just come from Beckenham.

I believe he would have passed me if I had not made him stop, but we were delighted to meet. I soon found, however, that he had nothing new to tell me, and then I let him go. Miss Burton has made me a very pretty little bonnet, and now nothing can satisfy me, but I must have a straw hat, of the riding hat shape, like Mrs. Tilson's,

and a young woman in this neighbourhood is actually making me one. I am really very shocking, but it will not be dear to guinea. Our police is a seventeen shillings each. She charges only eight shillings for the making, but the buttons seem expensive. Are expensive, I might have said, for the fact is plain enough. We drank tea again yesterday with the Tilsons, and met the Smiths. I find all these little parties very pleasant. I like Mrs. S. Miss Beatty is good humour itself, and has not seen much besides. We spend to-morrow evening with them, and are to meet the Colonel

Mrs. Cantillo-Smith you have been used to hear of, and, if she is in good humour, I likely to have excellent singing. Tonight I might have been at the play. Henry had kindly planned our going together to the Lyceum, but I have a cold, which I should not like to make worse before Saturday, so I stay within all this day. Eliza is walking out by herself. She has plenty of business on her hands just now, for the day of the party is settled, and drawing near. Above 80 people are invited for next Tuesday evening, and there is to be some very good music. Five professionals, three of them glee singers, besides amateurs. Fanny will listen to this. One of the hirelings is a capital on the harp, from which I expect great pleasure.

The foundation of the party was a dinner to Henry Egerton and Henry Walter, but the latter leaves town the day before. I am sorry, as I wished her prejudice to be done away, but should have been more sorry. if there had been no invitation. I am a wretch, to be so occupied with all these things, as to seem to have no thoughts to give to people and circumstances, which really supply a far more lasting interest, the society in which you are. But I do think of you all I assure you,

and want to know all about everybody, and especially about your visit to the W. Friars, may le Moyin not to be occupied by one's own concerns. Saturday Frank is superseded, in the Caledonia. Henry brought us this news yesterday for Mr. Dase, and he had at the same time that Charles may be in England in the course of a month. Sir Edward Pollin succeeds Lord Gambier in his command, and some captain of his succeeds Frank, and I believe the order has already gone out.

Henry means to inquire further today. He wrote to Mary on the occasion. This is something to think of. Henry is convinced that he will have the offer of something else, but does not think it will be it all incumbent upon him to accept it, and then follows, what will he do, and where will he live? I hope to hear from you today. How are you as to health, strength, looks, etc.? I had a very comfortable account from Chawton yesterday. If the weather permits, Eliza and I walk into London this morning. She is in want of chimney lights for Tuesday, and I have an ounce of darning cotton. She is resolved not to venture to the play tonight, The Dantregges and Count Julianne cannot come to the party, it was at first a grief,

but she has since supplied herself so well-performers that it is of no consequence. Their not coming has produced our going to them to-morrow evening, which I like the idea of. It will be amusing to see the ways of a French circle. I wrote to Mrs. Hill a few days ago, and have received a most kind and satisfactory answer. Any time the first week in May exactly suits her, and therefore I consider my going as tolerably fixed. I shall leave Sloan Street on the first or second, and be ready for James on the ninth, and if his plan alters, I can take care of myself.

I have explained my views here, and everything is smooth and pleasant, and Eliza talks kindly of conveying me to Streatham. We met the Tilsons yesterday evening, but the singing Smith's sent an excuse, which put our Mrs. Smith out of humour. We are come back, after a good dose of walking and coaching, and I have the pleasure of your letter. I wish I had James's verses, but they were left at Chawton. When I return thither, if Mrs. Kay will give me leave, I will send them to her. Our first object today was Henrietta Street, to consult with Henry, in consequence of a very unlucky change of the play for this night.

Hamlet, instead of King John. And we are to go on Monday to Macbeth instead. but it is a disappointment to us both. Love to all. Yours affectionately. Jane. Letter 36 Sloan Street, Thursday, April 25th.

My dearest Cassandra, I can return the compliment by thanking you for the unexpected pleasure of your letter yesterday. And as I like unexpected pleasure, it made me very happy. And indeed, you need not apologize for your letter in any respect,

for it is all very fine, but not too fine, I hope, to be written again, or something like it. I think Edward will not suffer much longer from heat. By the look of things this morning, I suspect the weather is rising into the balsamic northeast. It has been hot here, as you may suppose, since it was so hot with you. But I have not suffered from it at all, nor felt it in such a degree as to make me imagine it would be anything in the country. Everybody has talked of the heat, but I set it all down to London. I give you joy of our new nephew, and hope if he ever comes to be hanged,

it will not be till we are too old to care about it. It is a great comfort to have it so safely and speedily over. The Miss Curlings must be hard-worked in writing so many letters, but the novelty of it may recommend it to them. Mine was from Miss Eliza, and she says that my brother may arrive today. No, indeed, I am never too busy to do. to think of S and S. I can no more forget it than a mother can forget her sucking child,

and I am much obliged to you for your inquiries. I have had two sheets to correct, but the last only brings us to Willoughby's first appearance. Mrs. Kay regrets in the most flattering manner that she must wait till May, but I have scarcely a hope of its being out in June. Henry does not neglect it. He is hurried the printer, and says he will see him again today. It will not stand still during his absence, it will be sent to Eliza. The incomes remain as they were, but I will get them altered if I can. I am very much gratified by Mrs. Kay's interest in it, and whatever may be the event of it, as to my credit with her, sincerely wish her curiosity could be satisfied sooner than is now

probable. I think she will like my Eleanor, but cannot build on anything else. Our party went off extremely well. There were many sorts. There were many solicitudes, alarms, and vexations beforehand, of course, but at last everything was quite right. The rooms were dressed up with flowers, etc., and looked very pretty. A glass for the mantelpiece was lent by the man who was making their own. Mr. Egerton and Mr. Walter came at half-past five, and the festivities began with a pair of very fine souls. Yes, Mr. Walter, for he has postponed his leaving London on purpose, which did not give much pleasure at the time, any more than the circumstance from which it rose, his calling on Sunday and being asked by Henry

to take the family dinner on that day, which he did. But it is all smoothed over now, and she likes him very well. At half-past seven arrived musicians and two Hackney coaches, and by eight the lordly company began to appear. Among the earliest were George and Mary Cook, and I spent the greatest part of the evening very pleasantly with them. The drawing-room, being soon hotter than we liked, who placed ourselves in the connecting passage, which was comparatively cool, and gave us all the advantage of the music at a pleasant distance, as well as that of the first view of every newcomer. I was quite surrounded by acquaintance, especially gentlemen. And what with Mr. Hampson, Mr. Seymour, Mr. W. Natchpel, Mr. Gimald, Mr. Cure, a Captain Simpson, brother to the Captain Simpson,

besides Mr. Walter and Mr. Egerton, in addition to the cooks, and Miss Beckford, and Miss Middleton, I had quite as much upon my hands as I could do. Poor Miss B. has been suffering again from her old complaint, and looks thinner than ever. She suddenly goes to Cheltenham in the beginning of June. We were all delight and cordiality, of course. Miss M. seems very happy, but has not beauty enough to figure in London. Including everybody, we were 66, which was considerably more than Eliza had expected, and quite enough to fill the back drawing-room and leave a few to be scattered about in the other and in the passage. The music was extremely good. It opened, Talfanny, with

Puyk de Purs-Praise Poff-Prappler, and of the other gleeze I remember, in peace-love tunes, Rosabelle, the Red Cross Knight, and Poor Insect. Between the songs were lessons on the harp, or harp and piano forte together, and the harp player was Wipart, whose name seems famous, though new to me. There was one female singer, a short Miss Davis, all in blue, bringing up for the public line, whose voice was said to be very fine indeed, and all the performers gave great satisfaction by doing what they were paid for, and giving themselves no airs. No amateur could be persuaded to do anything. The house was not clear till after twenty-year. The house was not clear till after If you wish to hear more of it, you must put your questions, but I seem rather to have exhausted

than spared the subject. This said Captain Simpson told us, on the authority of some other captain just arrived from Halifax, that Charles was bringing the Cleopatra home, and that she was probably by this time in the channel. But, as Captain S was certainly in liquor, we was not quite depend upon it. It must give one a sort of expectation, however, and will prevent my writing to him any more. I would rather he should not reach England to Lyme at home, and the Steventon party gone. My mother and Martha both write with great satisfaction of Anna's behaviour. She is quite an Anna with variations, but she cannot have reached her last, for that is always the most flourishing and showy. She is at about her third or fourth, which are generally

simple and pretty. Your lilacs are in leaf, ours are in bloom. The horse chestnuts are quite out, and the Elms almost. I had a pleasant walk in Kensington Gardens on Sunday, with Henry, Mr. Smith, and Mr. Tilsen. Everything was fresh and beautiful. We did go to the play after all on Saturday. We went to the Lyceum, and saw the hypocrite, an old play taken from Molliere's Tartouf, and were well entertained. Doughton and Matthews were the good actors. Mrs. Edwin was the heroine, and her performance is just what it used to be. I have no. chance of seeing Mrs. Siddens. She did act on Monday, but, as Henry was told by the boxkeeper, pleaded not think she would, the plans and all thought of it, were given up. I should particularly

have liked seeing her in Constance, and could swear at her with a little effort for disappointing me. Henry has been to the Watercolour exhibition, which opened on Monday, and is to meet us there again some morning. If Eliza cannot go, and she has a cold at present, Miss Beatty will be invited to be my companion. Henry leaves town on Sunday afternoon, but he means to write soon himself to Edward, and will tell his own plans. The tea is this moment setting out. Do not have your coloured muslin, unless you really want it, because I am afraid I could not send it to the coach, without giving trouble here. Eliza caught her cold on Sunday, in our way to the d'Entregs. The horse is actually jibbed on this side of Hyde Park gate, a load of fresh gravel made it a

formidable hill to them, and they refused the collar. I believe there was a sore shoulder to irritate. Eliza was frightened and we got out, and were detained in the evening air several minutes. The cold is in her chest, but she takes care of herself, and I hope it may not last long. This engagement prevented Mr. Walters staying late. He had his coffee and went away. Eliza enjoyed her evening very much, at means to cultivate the acquaintance. They do I see nothing to dislike in them, but they're taking care of it. quantities of snuff. Monsieur, the old Count, is a very fine-looking man, with quiet manners, good enough for an Englishman, and I believe, is a man of great information and taste.

He has some fine paintings, which delighted Henry as much as the son's music gratified Eliza, and among them a miniature of Philip V of Spain, Louis the 14th's grandson, which exactly suited my capacity. Count Julienne's performance is very wonderful. We met him, and we met only Mrs. Latouche and Miss East, and we are just now engaged to spend next Sunday evening at Mrs. Elles, and to meet the d'Anthraig's, but Monsieur Lecomte must do without Henry. If he would but speak English, I would take to him. Have you ever mentioned the leaving off tea to Mrs. Kay? Eliza has just spoken of it again. The benefit she is found from it in sleeping has been very great. I shall write soon to Catherine to fix my day, which will be Thursday. We have no

engagement but for Sunday. Eliza's cold makes quiet advisable. Her party is mentioned in this morning's paper. I am sorry to hear of poor Fanny's state. From that quarter, I suppose, is to be the alloy of her happiness. I will have no more to say. Yours affectionately, J.A. Give my love particularly to my goddaughter. End of Section 16. Section 17 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Letter 37 Sloan Street, Tuesday My dear Cassandra

I had sent off my letter yesterday before yours came, which I was sorry for, but as Eliza has been so good as to get me a frank, your questions shall be answered without much further expense to you. The best direction to Henry at Oxford will be the Blue Boar Corn Market. I do not mean to provide another trimming for my police, for I am determined to spend no more money, so I shall wear it as it is, longer than I ought, and then I do not know. My headdress was a bugle band like the border to my gown, and a flower of

Mrs. Tilson's. I depended upon hearing something of the evening from Mr. W.K., and am very well satisfied with his notice of me. A pleasing-looking young woman. That must do. One cannot pretend to anything better now. Thankful to have it continued a few years longer. It gives me sincere pleasure to hear of Mrs. Knights having had a tolerable night at last, but upon this occasion I wish she had another name, for the two knights jingle very much. We have tried to get self-control, but in vain. I should like to know what her estimate is, but I'm always half afraid of finding a clever novel too clever, and of finding my own story and my own people, all forestalled. Eliza has just received a few lines from Henry to assure her of the good conduct of his mare.

He slept at Uxbridge on Sunday, and wrote from Wheatfield. We were not claimed by Hans Place yesterday, but artadine there today. Mr. Tilsen called in the evening, but otherwise we were quite alone all day. And after having been out a good deal, the change was very pleasant. I like your opinion of Miss Atten much better than I expected, and have no hopes of her staying a whole twelvemonth. By this time I suppose she is hard at it, governing away. Poor creature! I pity her, though they are my nieces. Oh, yes, I remember Miss Emma Plumtree's local country's.

consequence perfectly. I am in a dilemma, for want of an Emma, escaped from the lips of Henry Gipps. But really, I was never much more put to it than in continuing an answer to Fanny's former message. What is there to be said on the subject? Perry Powell or Perry Pay, or Poe, or at the most, Pye, Pope, Pea, Pike, Pitt. I congratulate Edward on the wheeled of Kent Canal Bill being put off to another session, as I have just had the pleasure of reading. There is always something to be hoped from delay. Between session and session, the first prepossession, may rouse up the nation, and the villainous bill, may be forced to lie still against wicked men's will.

There is poetry for Edward and his daughter. I am afraid I shall not have any for you. I forgot to tell you in my last that our cousin, and Miss Payne called in on Saturday, and was persuaded to stay to dinner. She told us a great deal about her friend Lady Catherine Brecknell, who is most happily married, and Mr. Brecknell is very religious, and has got black whiskers. I am glad to think that Edward has a tolerable day for his drive to Goodiston, and very glad to hear of his kind promise of bringing you to town. I hope everything will arrange itself favourably. The sixteenth is now to be Mrs. Dundas's day. I mean, if I can, if I

to wait for your return before I have my new gown made up, from a notion of their making up to more advantage together. And, as I find the muzzle is not so wide as it used to be, some contrivance may be necessary. I expect the skirt to require one half-breadth cut in gauze, besides two whole breaths. Eliza has not quite yet resolved on inviting Anna, but I think she will. Yours very affectionately, Jane. Letter 38. Chorton, Wednesday, May 29. It was a mistake of mine, my dear Cassandra, to talk of a tenth child at Hamstall. I had forgot there were but eight already.

Your inquiry after my uncle and aunt were most happily timed, for the very same post brought an account of them. They are again at Gloucester House, enjoying fresh air, which they seem to have felt the want of in Bath, and are tolerably well, but not more than tolerable. My aunt does not enter into particulars, but she does not write in spirits, and we imagine that she has never entirely got the better of her disorder in the winter. Mrs. Welby takes her out airing in her barouche, which gives her a headache, a comfortable proof, I suppose, of the uselessness of the new carriage, when they have got it. You certainly must have heard before I can tell you that Colonel Ord has married our cousin,

Margaret Beckford, the Martianess of Douglas's sister. The papers say that her father disinherits her, but I think too well of an awe to suppose that she is not a handsome independence of her own. The chickens are all alive and fit for the table, but we save them for something grand. Some of the flower seeds are coming up very well, but your minionette makes a wretched appearance. Miss Ben has been equally unlucky as to hers. She had seed from four different people, and none of it comes up. Our young pioneer at the foot of the fir tree has just blown and looks very handsome And the whole of the shrubbery border

Will be soon very gay with pinks and sweet Williams In addition to the columbines already in bloom The syringos too are coming out We are likely to have a great crop of Orleans plums But not many green gauges On the standard scarcely any Three or four dozen perhaps against the wall I told you differently when I first came home

but I can now judge better than I could then. I have had a medley in a satisfactory letter this morning from the husband-and-wife at Coe's, and in consequence of what is related of their plans, we have been talking over the possibility of inviting them here, in their way from Steventon, which is what one should wish to do, and is, I dare say, what they expect. But, supposing Martha to be at home, it does not seem a very easy thing to accommodate so large a party. My mother offers to give up her room to Frank and Mary, but there will then be only the best for two maids and three children. They go to Steventon about the 22nd, and I guess, for it is quite a guess,

will stay there from a fortnight to three weeks. I must not venture to press Miss Sharps coming at present. We may hardly be at liberty before August. Poor John Bridges, we are very sorry for his situation, and for the distress of the family. Lady B is in one way. Lady B. is in one way, severely tried, and our own dear brother suffers a great deal, I dare say, on the occasion. I have not much to say of ourselves. Anna is nursing a cold, caught in the Arbor at Farringdon, that she may be able to keep her engagement to Mariah M. this evening, when I suppose she will make it worse. She did not return from Farringdon till Sunday, when H.B. walked home with her, and drank tea here. She was with the proutings almost all Monday. She went to learn to

to make feather trimmings of Miss Anna, and they kept her to dinner, which was rather lucky, as we were called upon to meet Mrs. and Miss Terry, the same evening at the digweeds. And though Anna was, of course, invited, too, I think it always safest to keep her away from the family, lest she should be doing too little, or too much. Mrs. Terry, Mary and Robert, with my Aunt Harding and her daughter, came from Dummer for a day and a night, all very agreeable and very much delighted with the new house, and with Chawton in general. We sat upstairs, and had thunder and lightning as usual. I never knew such a spring for thunderstorms as it has been. Thank God we've had no bad ones here. I thought

myself in luck to have my uncomfortable feelings shared by the mistress of the house, as that procured blinds and candles. It had been excessively hot the whole day. Mrs. Harding is a good-looking woman, but not much like Mrs. Toke, inasmuch as she is very brown, and has scarcely any teeth. She seems to have some of Mrs. Toc's ability. Miss H. is an elegant, pleasing, pretty-looking girl, about nineteen, I suppose, or nineteen and a half, or nineteen in a quarter, with flowers in her head and music at her finger-ends. She plays very well indeed. I have seldom heard anybody with more pleasure. They were at Goddington four or five years ago.

My cousin, for Laura Long, was there last year. My name is Diana. How does Fanny like it? What a change in the weather. We have a fire again now. Harriet Ben sleeps at the great house tonight and spends tomorrow with us. And the plan is that we should all walk with her to drink tea at Farringdon, for her mother is now recovered.

But the state of the weather is not very promising at present. Miss Ben has been returned to her cottage since the beginning of last week, and has now just got another girl. She comes from Alton. For many days Miss B. had nobody with her but her niece Elizabeth, who is delighted to be her visitor and her maid. They both dined here on Saturday while Anna was at Farringdon. And last night, an accidental meeting and a sudden impulse produced Miss Ben and Mariah Middleton at our tea table. If you have not heard, it is very fit you should that Mr. Harrison has had the living of Fairham given him by the bishop, and is going to reside there. And now it has said that Mr. Peach, beautiful Wiseacre, wants to have the curiosity of Overton. And if he does leave Rooton, James Digweed wishes to go there. Fair you well. Yours affectionately, Jane Austen. The chimneys at the Great House are done. Mr. Prouting is open to gravel pit, very conveniently for my mum. mother, just at the mouth of the approach to his house. But it looks a little as if he meant to catch

all his company. Tolerable gravel. Letter 39. Chawton, Thursday, June 6th. By this time, my dearest Cassandra, you know Martha's plans. I was rather disappointed, I confess, to find that she could not leave town till after the 24th, as I had hoped to see you here the week before. The delay, however, is not great, and everything seems generally arranging itself for your return very comfortably. I found Henry perfectly predisposed to bring you to London, if agreeable to yourself. He has not fixed his day for going into Kent, but he must be back again before the twentieth. You may therefore think with something like certainty of the close of your Godmisham visit, and we'll have, I suppose, about a week for Sloan Street.

He travels in his gig, and, should the weather be tolerable, I think you must have, have a delightful journey. I have given up all idea of Miss Sharp's travelling with you and Martha, for though you are both all compliance with my scheme, yet as you knock off a week from the end of her visit, and Martha rather more from the beginning, the thing is out of the question. I have written to her to say that after the middle of July we shall be very happy to receive her, and I have added a welcome if she could make her way hither directly, but I do not expect that she will. I have also sent our invitation to Coe's. We are very sorry for the

disappointment you have all had in Lady B's illness, but a division of the proposed party is with you by this time, and I hope I may have brought to a better account of the rest. Give my love and thanks to Harriet, who has written me charming things of your looks, and diverted me very much by poor Mrs. C. Mills' continued perplexity. I had a few lines from Henry on Tuesday to prepare us for himself and his friend, and by the time that I had made the sumptuous provision of a neck of mutton on the occasion, they drove into the court. But lest you should not immediately recollect in how many hours a neck of mutton may certainly be procured, I add that they came a little after twelve, both tall and well, and in their different degrees, agreeable.

It was a visit of only twenty-four hours, but very pleasant while it lasted. Mr. Tillson took a sketch of the great house before dinner, and after dinner we all three walked to Chorton Park, meaning to go into it, but it was too dirty, and we were obliged to keep on the outside. Mr. Tilsen admired the trees very much, but grieved that they should not be turned into money. My mother's cold is better, and I believe she only wants dry weather to be very well. It was a great distress to her that Anna should be absent during her uncle's visit, her distress which I could not share. She does not return from Farringdon till this evening, and I doubt not has had plenty of the miscellaneous, unsettled sort of happiness, which seems to suit her best.

We hear from Miss Ben, who was on the common with the Proutings, that she was very much admired by the gentlemen in general. I like your new bonnet exceedingly. Yours is a shape which always looks well, and I think Fanny is particularly becoming to her. On Monday I had the pleasure of receiving, unpacking and approving our wedge-wood wear. It all came very safely, and upon the whole is a good match, though I think they might have allowed us rather larger leaves, especially in such a year of fine foliage as this. One is apt to suppose that the woods about Birmingham must be blighted. There was no bill with the goods, but that shall not screen them from being paid. I mean to ask Martha to settle the account. It will be quite in her way, for she is just now sending my mother a breakfast

set from the same place. I hope it will come by the wagon tomorrow. It is certainly what we want, and I long to know it is like. And as I am sure Martha has great pleasure in making the present, I will not have any regret. We have considerable dealings with the wagons at present. A hamper of port and brandy from Southampton is now in the kitchen. Your answer about the Miss Plum Trees proves you as fine a Daniel as ever Portia was, for I maintained Emma to be the eldest.

We began peas on Sunday, but our gatherings are very small, not at all like the gathering in The Lady of the Lake. Yesterday had the agreeable surprise of finding several scarlet strawberries quite ripe. Had you been at home, this would have been a pleasure lost. There are more goose breeze and few were currants than I thought at first. We must buy currants for our wine. The digweeds are gone down to see the Stephen Terries at Southampton and catch the King's birthday at Portsmouth. Miss Papillon called on us yesterday, looking handsomer than ever. Mariah Middleton and Miss Ben dine here tomorrow. We are not to enclose any more letters to Abingdon Street, as perhaps Martha has told you. I had just left off writing, and put on my things for walking to Walton,

when Anna and her friend Harriet called in their way thither, so he went together. Their business was to provide mourning against the king's death, and my mother has had a bombazine bought for her. I am not sorry to be back again, for the young ladies had a great deal to do, and without much method in doing it. Anna does not come home till to-morrow morning. She has written, I find, to Fanny, but there does not seem to be a great deal to relate of Tuesday. I had hoped they might be dancing. Mrs. Budd died on Sunday evening. I saw her two days before her death, and thought it must happen soon. She suffered much from weakness and restlessness almost to the last.

Poor little Harry it seems truly grieved. You've never mentioned Harry. How is he? With love to you all. Yours affectionately. J.A. End of Section 17. Section 18 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Letter 40 Chorton Friday, January 29th, 1813 I hope you received my little parcel by Jay Bond on Wednesday evening, my dear Cassandra, and that you'll be ready to hear from me again on Sunday, for I feel that I must write to you today. I want to tell you that I have got my own darling child from London. On Wednesday I received one copy sent down by Faulkina,

with three lines from Henry to say that he'd given another to Charles, and sent a third by the coach to Godmisham. The advertisement is in our paper today for the first time, 18 shillings. He shall ask one pound one shilling for my two next, and one pound eight shilling for my stupidest of all. Miss B. dined with us on the very day of the books coming, and in the evening we fairly set at it, and read half the first volume to her, prefacing that, having intelligence from Henry that such a work would soon appear, we had desired and descended whenever it came out, and I believed it passed with her unsuspected. She was amused, poor soul. That she could not help, you know, with two such people to lead the way. But she really does seem to admire Elizabeth.

I must confess that I think her as delightful a creature as ever appeared in print, and how I shall be able to tolerate those who do not like her, at least, I do not know. There are a few typical errors, and a said he, or a said she, would sometimes make the dialogue more immediately clear, but I do not write for such dull elves, as have not a great deal of ingenuity themselves. The second volume is shorter than I could wish, but the difference is not so much in reality as in look, there being a larger proportion of narrative in that part. I have lopped and cropped so successfully, however, that I imagine it must be rather shorter than sense and sensibility altogether. Now I will try and write of something else. Letter 41

Shorten, Thursday, February 4th My dear Cassandra, your letter was truly welcome, and I am much obliged to you for all your praise. It came at a right time, for I had had some fits of disgust. Our second evening's reading to Miss B had not pleased me so well, but I believe something must be attributed to my mother's too rapid way of getting on. Though she perfectly understands the characters herself, she cannot speak as they ought. Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain enough and well satisfied enough. The work is rather too light and bright and sparkling. It wants shade. It wants to be stretched out here and there, with a long, chapter of sense, if it could be had. If not, of solemn specious nonsense, about something unconnected with the story, an essay on writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Bonaparte, or something that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with increased

delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general style. The greatest blunder in the printing that I have met with is in page 220, volume three, where two speeches are made into one. There might as well be no suppers at Longbourn, but I suppose it was the remains of Mrs. Bennet's old Merit and Habits. Letter 42. February. This will be a very quick return for yours, my dear Cassandra. I doubt it's having much else to recommend it, but there is no saying. It may turn out to be a very long and delightful letter. I am exceedingly pleased that you can say what you do, after having gone through the the whole work, and Fanny's praise is very gratifying. My hopes were tolerably strong of her,

but nothing like a certainty. Her liking Darcy and Elizabeth is enough. She might hate all the others if she would. I have her opinion under her own hand this morning, but your transcript of it, which I read first, was not and is not the less acceptable. To me it is, of course, all praise, but the more exact truth which she sends you is good enough. Our party on Wednesday was not unagreable, though we wanted a master of the house less anxious and fidgety and more conversable. Upon Mrs. Blanks mentioning that she had sent the rejected addresses to Mrs. H., I began talking to her a little about them,

and expressed my hope of their having amused her. Her answer was, Oh dear, yes, very much, very droll indeed, the opening of the house and the striking up of the fiddles. What she meant, poor woman, who can say? I sought no further. As soon as a whist party was formed and a round table threatened, I made my mother an excuse and came away,

leaving just as many for their round table as there were at Mrs. Grant's. I wish they might be as agreeable, a set. My mother is very well, and finds great amusement and glove-nitting, and at present wants no other work. We quite run over with books. She has got Sir John Carr's travels in Spain, and I am reading a Society Octavo, an essay on the military police and institutions of the British Empire,

like Captain Passley of the Engineers, a book which I protested against at first, but which upon trial I find delightfully written and highly entertaining. I am as much in love with the author as I ever would, was with Clarkson or Buchanan, or even the two Mr. Smiths of the city. The first soldier I ever sighed for, but he does write with extraordinary force and spirit. Yesterday, moreover, brought us Mrs. Grant's letters, with Mr. White's compliments. But I have disposed of them, compliments and all, to Miss P., and amongst so many readers or retainers of books as we have in Shorten, I dare say there

will be no difficulty in getting rid of them for another fortnight. if necessary. I have disposed of Mrs. Grant for the second fortnight to Mrs. Blank. It can make no difference to her which of the 26 fortnights in the year the three volumes lie on her table. I have been applied to for information, as to the oath taken in former times of bell, book, and candle, but have none to give. Perhaps you may be able to learn something of its origin where you are now. Ladies who read those enormous great, stupid, thick quarto volumes, which one always sees in the breakfast parlour, there must be acquainted with everything in the world. I detest a quarto. Captain Passley's book is too good for their society. They will not understand a man who condenses his thoughts into an Octavo. I have learned from Sir Jay Carr that there is no government house at Gibraltar. I must alter it to the commissioners.

Letter 43 Sloan Street Thursday May 20th My dear Cassandra Before I say anything else I claim a paper full of half-pence on the drawing-room mental piece I put them there myself And forgot to bring them with me

I cannot say that I have yet been in any distress for money But I choose to have my due As well as the devil How lucky we were on our weather yesterday This wet morning makes one more sense of it. We had no rain of any consequence. The head of the curricle was put half up three or four times, but our share of the showers was very trifling, though they seemed to be heavy all round us, when we were in the hogsback, and I fancied it might then be raining so hard at Chorton as to

make you feel for us much more than we deserved. Three hours and a quarter took us to Guildford, where we stayed barely two hours, and had only just time enough for all we had to do there, that is, eating a long and comfortable breakfast, watching the carriages, paying Mr. Harrington, and taking a little stroll afterwards. From some views which that stroll gave us, I think most highly of the situation of Guildford. We wanted all our brothers and sisters to be standing with us in the bowling green, and looking towards Horsham. I was very lucky in my gloves, got them at the first shop I went to,

though I went into it rather because it was near, than because it looked at all like a glove-shop. and gave only four shillings for them, after which everybody at Shorton would be hoping and predicting that they cannot be good for anything. And their worth certainly remains to be proved, but I think they look very well. We left Guildford at twenty minutes before twelve. I hope somebody cares for these minutia, and we're at Escher in about two hours more. I was very much pleased with the country in general. Between Guildford and Ripley I thought it particularly pretty, also about Painsill. And from a Mr. Spicer's grounds at Isha, which we walked into before dinner, the views were beautiful.

I cannot say what we did not see, but I should think there could not be a wood or a meadow or palace, or a remarkable spot in England that was not spread out before us on one side or another. Claremont is going to be sold, and Mr. Ellis has it now. It is a house that seems never to have prospered. After dinner we walked forward to be overtaken at the coachman's time, and before he did overtake us we were very near Kingston. I fancy it was about half-past six when we reached this house, a twelve hours business, and the horses did not appear more than reasonably tired. I was very tired, too, and glad to get to bed early, but am quite well today. I am very snug in the front drawing-room all to myself, and would not say thank you for any company but you. The quietness of it does me good. I've contrived to pay my two visits, though the weather made me a great while about it, and left me only a few minutes to sit with Charlotte Craven.

She looks very well, and her hair is done up with an elegance to do credit to any education. Her manners are as unaffected and pleasing as ever. She is heard from her mother today. Mrs. Craven spends another fortnight at Chiltern. I saw nobody but Charlotte, which pleased me best. I was shown upstairs into a drawing-room when she came to me, and the appearance of the room, so totally unschool-like, amused me very much. It was full of modern elegancies.

Yours very affectionately, J.A. End of Section 18. Section 19 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 44. Sloan Street, Monday, May 24th. My dearest Cassandra, I am very much obliged to you for writing to me. You must have hated it after a worrying morning. Your letter came just in time to save my going to remnants, and fit me for Christians,

where I bought Fanny's Dimity. I went the day before, Friday, to Latens as I promised, and got my mother's gown, seven yards at six shillings and six. I then walked into number ten, which is all dirt and confusion, but in a very promising way, and after being present at the opening of a new account, to my great amusement, Henry and I went to the exhibition in Spring Gardens. It is not thought a good collection, but I was very well pleased, particularly, Bray Talfanie, with a small portrait of Mrs. Bingley, excessively like her. I went in hopes of seeing one of her sister's. but there was no Mrs. Darcy. Perhaps, however, I may find her in the great exhibition,

which we shall go to if we have time. I have no chance of her in the collection of Sir Joshua Reynolds paintings, which is now showing in Palmao, and which we are also to visit. Mrs. Bingley's is exactly herself, size, shaped face, features, and sweetness. There never was a greater a likeness. She is dressed in a white gown with green ornaments, which convinces me of what I always supposed, that green was a favourite colour with her. I dare say Mrs. D. will be in yellow. Friday was our worst day as to weather. We were out in a very long and very heavy storm of hail, and there had been others before, but I heard no thunder. Saturday was a good deal better, dry and cold.

I gave two shillings and sixpence for the dimmity. I do not boast of any bargains, but I think both the Sarsenet and Dimity good of their sort. I have bought your locket, but was obliged to give eighteen shillings for it, which must be rather more than you intended. It is neat and plain, set in gold. We were to have gone to the Somerset House exhibition on Saturday,

but when I reached Henrietta Street, Mr. Hampson was wanted there, and Mr. Tilson and I were obliged to drive about town after him, and by the time we had done, it was so late for anything but home. We never found him after all. I have been interrupted by Mrs. Tilson. Poor woman. She is in danger of not being able to attend Lady Drum and Smith's party tonight. Miss Burdette was to have taken her, and now Miss Bedet has a cough and will not go. My cousin Caroline is her soul to The events of yesterday were, our going to Belgrave Chapel in the morning, are being prevented by the rain from going to evening service at St. James, Mr. Hampson's calling, Mrs. Barlow and Phillips dining here, and Mr. and Mrs. Tilsons coming in the evening, Allodinere. She drank tea with us both Thursday and Saturday. He dined out each day, and on Friday we were with them, and they wish us to go with them to-morrow evening, to meet Miss Bedet. But I do not. not know how it will end. Henry talks of a drive to Hampstead, which may interfere with it.

I should like to see Miss Burdette very well, but that I am rather frightened by hearing that she wishes to be introduced to me. If I am a wild beast, I cannot help it. It is not my own fault. There is no change in our plan of leaving London, but we shall not be with you before Tuesday. Henry thinks Monday would appear too early a day. There is no danger of are being induced to stay longer. I have not quite determined how I shall manage about my clothes. Perhaps there may be only my trunk to send by the coach, or there may be a bandbox with it.

I have taken your gentle hint, and written to Mrs. Hill. The hoblins want us to dine with them, but we have refused. When Henry returns he'll be dining out a great deal, I dare say, as he will then be alone, it will be more desirable. He will be more welcome at every table, and every invitation more welcome to him. He will not want either of us again till he is settled in Henrietta Street. This is my present persuasion. And he will not be settled there, really settled, till late in the autumn. He will not be come to bide till after September. There is a gentleman in treaty for this house.

Gentleman himself is in the country, but gentleman's friend came to see it the other day, and seemed pleased on the whole. Gentlemen would rather prefer an increased rent to parting with 500 guineas at once, and if that is the only difficulty, it will not be minded. Henry is indifferent as to the witch. Get us the best weather you can for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. We are to go to Windsor and our way to Henley, which will be a great delight. We shall be leaving Sloan Street about twelve,

two or three hours after Charles's party had begun their journey. You will miss them, but the comfort of getting back into your own room will be great. And then the tea and sugar. I fear Miss Clues is not better, or you would have mentioned it. I shall not write again unless I have any unexpected communication or opportunity to tempt me. I enclose Mr. Harrington's bill and receipt. I am very much obliged to Fanny for her letter. It made me laugh heartily, but I cannot pretend to answer it.

Even had I more time, I should not feel at all sure of the sort of letter that Miss Darcy would write. I hope Miss Ben is quite well again, and will have a comfortable dinner with you today. Monday evening. We've been both to the exhibition and Sir J. Reynolds is, and I am disappointed, but there was nothing like Mrs. Dee at either. I can only imagine that Mr. D prizes any picture of her too much to like it should be exposed to the public eye.

I can imagine he would have that sort of feeling, that mixture of love, pride, and delicacy. Setting aside this disappointment, I had great amusement amongst the pictures, and the driving about, the carriage being open, was very pleasant. I liked my solitary elegance very much, and was ready to laugh all the time at my being where I was. I could not but feel that I had naturally small right to be parading about London in a barouche. Henry desires Edward may know that he had just bought three dozen of claret for him, cheap, and ordered it to be sent down to Chorton. I should not wonder if we got no farther than Reading on Thursday evening,

and so reached Steventon only to a reasonable dinner hour the next day. But whatever I may write, or you may imagine, we know it will be something different. I shall be quiet to-morrow morning. All my business is done, and I shall only call again upon Mrs. Hoblin etc. Love to your much party. Yours affectionately, J. Austin. Letter 45. Henrietta Street, Wednesday, September 15th, half-past eight. Here I am, my dearest Cassandra, seated in the breakfast, dining, sitting-room, beginning with all my might. Fanny will join me as soon as she is dressed, and begin her letter. We had a very good

journey, weather and roads, excellent, the first three stages for one shilling and sixpence, and our only misadventure, the being delayed about a quarter of an hour at Kingston for horses, and being obliged to put up with a pair belonging to a hackney coach, and their coachman, which left no room on the Baruch-box for Lizzie, who was to have gone her last stage there as she did the first. Consequently, we were all four within, which was a little crowded. We arrived at a quarter past four, and were kindly welcomed by the coachman, and then by his master, and then by William, and then by Mrs. Pengert, who met us all before we reached the foot of the stairs. Madame Bigeon was below dressing us the most comfortable dinner of soup, fish, bouilliers, partridges, and an apple tart, which we sat down to soon after five, after cleaning and dressing ourselves, and feeling that we were most commodiously disposed of. The little adjoining dressing-room to our apartment

makes Spaniard myself very well off indeed, and as we have poor Eliza's bed, our space is ample every way. Seyce arrived safely about half-past six. At seven we set off on a coach for the Lyceum, were at home again in about four hours and a half, had soup and wine and water, and then went to our holes.

Edward finds his quarters very snug and quiet. I must get a softer pair. This is harder. I am in agonies. I have not yet seen Mr. Crabb. Martha's letter is gone to the post. I am going to write nothing but short sentences. There shall be two four stops in every line. Leighton and Shears is Bedford House. We mean to get there before breakfast if it's possible, for we feel more and more how much we have to do, and how little time. This house looks very nice. It seems like Sloan Street moved here. I believe Henry is just rid of Sloan Street.

Fanny does not come, but I have Edward seated by me beginning a letter, which looks natural. Henry has been suffering from the pain in the face, which he has been subject to before. He caught cold at Matlock, and since his return has been paying a little for past pleasure. It is nearly removed now,

but he looks thin in the face, either from the pain or the fatigues of his tour, which must have been great. Lady Robert is delighted with P and P, and really was so, as I understand, before she knew who wrote it, for of course she knows now. He told her with as much satisfaction as if it were my wish. He did not tell me this, but he told Fanny. And Mr. Hastings. I am quite delighted with what such a man writes about it. Henry sent him the books after his return from Dalesford, but you will hear the letter too. Let me be rational, and return to my two full stops.

I talked to Henry at the play last night. We were in a private box, Mr. Spencers, which made it much more pleasant. The box is directly on the stage. One is infinitely less fatigued than in the common way. But Henry's plans are not what one could work. wish. He does not mean to be at short until the 29th. He must be in town again by October 5th. His plan is to get a couple of days of pheasant shooting, and then return directly. His wish was to bring you back with him. I have told him your scruples. He wishes you to suit

yourself as to time, and if you cannot come till later, we'll send for you at any time as far as bagshot. He presumed you would not find difficulty in getting so far. I could not say you would. He proposed or going with him into Oxfordshire. It was his own thought at first. I could not but catch at it for you. We have talked of it again this morning. For now we have breakfasted. And I am convinced that if you can make it suit in other respects,

you need not scruple on his account. If you cannot come back with him on the third or fourth, therefore, I do hope you were contrived to go to Atlstrop. By not beginning your absence till about the middle of this month, I think you may manage it very well. But you will think all this over. One could wish he had intended to come to you earlier, but it cannot be helped. I said nothing to whom Mrs. H. and Miss B that he might not suppose difficulties.

Shall not you put them into our own room? This seems to me the best plan, and the maid will be most conveniently near. Oh, dear me. When I shall ever have done? We did go to Layton and Shears before breakfast. Very pretty English poplins at four shillings and threpanse. Irish ditto at six shillings. More pretty, certainly. Beautiful. Fanny and the two little girls are gone to take places for tonight at Covent Garden. Clandestine marriage and Midas. The latter will be a fine show for Elle and Em. They reveled last night in Don Juan, whom we left in hell at half-past eleven. We had Scaramout and a ghost, and were delighted. I speak of them. My delight was very tranquil, and the rest of us were sober-minded. Don Juan was the last of three musical things, five hours at Brighton in three acts, of which one was over before we arrived, none the worse, and the beehive, rather less

flat and trumpery. I have this moment received five pounds from kind, beautiful Edward. Fanny has a similar gift. I shall say what I can of it for your better leisure in this place. My letter was from Miss Sharp, nothing particular. A letter from Fanny Cage this morning. 4 o'clock. We are just to come back from doing Mrs. Ticka's, Miss Hare and Mr. Spence. Mr. Hall is here, and while Fanny is under his hands, I will try to write a little more. Miss Hare had some pretty caps, and is to make me one like one of them, only white satin instead of blue.

It will be white satin and lace, and a little white flower. perking out of the left ear, like Harriet Byron's feather. I've allowed her to go as far as one pound and sixteen shillings. My gown is to be trimmed everywhere with white ribbon plaited on somehow or other. She says it will look well. I am not sanguine. They trim with white very much. I learnt from Mrs. Tickars' as young lady, to my high amusement,

that the stays now are not made to force the bosom up at all. That was a very unbecoming, unnatural fashion. I was really glad to hear that they are not to be so much off the shoulders as they were. Going to Mr. Spences was a sad business, and crossed us many tears. Unluckily, we are obliged to go a second time before he could do more than just look. We went first at half-past twelve, and afterwards at three, for par with us each time. And alas, we are to go again to-morrow. Lizzie is not finished yet.

There have been no teeth taken out, however nor will be, I believe, but he finds hers in a very bad state and seems to think particularly ill of their durability. They have all been cleaned, hers filed, and are to be filed again. There is a very sad hole between two of her front teeth. Thursday morning, half-past seven. Up and dressed and downstairs in order to finish my letter in time for the parcel. At eight I have a appointment with Madame B. who wants to show me something downstairs. At nine we are to set off for Grafton House and get that over before breakfast. Edward is so kind as to walk there with us. We are to be at Mr. Spencers again from 11.5. From that time she'll be driving about, I suppose, till four o'clock at least. We are, if possible, to call on Mrs. Tilsen.

Mr. Hall was very punctual yesterday, and curled me out at a great rate. I thought it looked hideous, and longed for a snug cap instead. But my companion silenced me by their admiration. I had only a bit of velvet round my head. I did not catch cold, however. The weather is all in my favour. I have had no pain in my face since I left you. We had very good places in the box next to stage-box, front and second row, the three old ones behind, of course. I was particularly disappointed at seeing nothing of Mr. Crab. I felt sure of him when I saw that the boxes were fitted up with crimson velvet. The new Mr. Terry was Lord Ogleby, and Henry thinks he may do. But there is no acting more than moderate, and I was as much amused by the remembrances

connected with Midas as with any part of it. The girls were very much delighted, but still prefer darn one, and I must say that I have seen nobody on the stage who has a more interesting character than that compound of cruelty and lust. It was not possible for me to get the worst-ids yesterday. I heard Edward last night pressing Henry to come to you, and I think Henry engaged together after his November collection. Nothing has been done as to S&S. The books came to hand too late for him to have time for it before he went. Mr. Hastings never hinted at Eliza in the smallest degree. Henry knew nothing of Mr. Trimmer's death. I tell you these things that you may not have to ask them over again. There is a new clerk sent down to Walton, a

Mr. Edwin Williams, a young man whom Henry thinks most highly of, and he turns out to be a son of the luckless Williams'es of Grosvenor Place. I long to have you hear Mr. H's opinion of P&P. He's admiring my Elizabeth so much is particularly welcome to me. Instead of saving my superfluous wealth for you to spend, I am going to treat myself with spending it myself. I hope at least that I shall find some poplin at Leighton and Shears that will tempt me to buy it. If I do, It shall be sent to Chortin, as half will be for you, for I depend upon your being so kind as to accept it, being the main point. It will be a great pleasure to me. Don't say a word. I only wish you could choose, too. I shall send twenty yards. Now for Bath. Poor F. Cage has suffered a good deal from her accident. The noise of the white heart was terrible to her. They will keep her quiet, I dare say. She is not so much

delighted with the place as the rest of the party, probably, as she says herself, from having been less well, but she thinks she should like it the better in the season. The street's very empty now, and the shop's not so gay as she expected. They are at number one Henrietta Street, the corner of Laura Place, and have no acquaintance at present but the Bramstons. Lady Bridges drinks at the cross-bath, her son at the hot, and Louisa is going to bathe. Dr. Parry seems to be half-starving Mr. Bridges, for he has been. He is restricted to much such a diet as James is, bread, water and meat, and is never to eat so much of that as he wishes, and he is to walk a great deal. Walk till he drops, I believe, gout or no gout.

It really is to that purpose. I have not exaggerated. Charming weather for you and us, and the travellers, and everybody. You will take your walk this afternoon, and—end of Section 19. of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Letter 46 Henrietta Street, Thursday, September 16th, after dinner. Thank you, my dearest Cassandra, for the nice long letter I sent off this morning. I hope you've had it by this time, and that it has found you all well,

and my mother no more in need of leeches. Whether this will be delivered to you by Henry VIII, on Saturday evening, or by the postman on Sunday morning, I know not, as he has lately recollected something of an engagement for Saturday, which perhaps may delay his visit. He seems determined to come to you soon, however. I hope you will receive the gown tomorrow, and may be able with tolerable honesty to say you like the colour. It was bought at Grafton House, where, by going very early, we got immediate attendance and went on very comfortably. I only forgot the one particular thing which I had always resolved to buy there, a white silk handkerchief, and was therefore obliged

to give six shillings for one at Crook and Bresfords, which reminds me to say that the worst-ids ought also to be at Chorton to-morrow, and that I shall be very happy to hear they are approved. I had not much time for deliberation. We are now all four of us, young ladies, sitting round the circular table in the inner room writing our letters, while the two brothers are having a comfortable doze in the room adjoining. It is to be a quiet evening, much to the satisfaction of four of the six. My eyes are quite tired of dust and lamps. The letter you forwarded from Edward, Jr. has been duly received. He has been shooting most prosperously at home, and dining at Chillam Castle of Mr. Scudemore. My cab has come home, and I like it very much. Fanny has one also.

hers is white sarsenet and lace of a different shape from mine, more fit for morning carriageware, which is what it is intended for, and is in shape exceedingly like our own satin and lace of last winter, shaped round the face exactly like it, with pipes and more fullness, and a round crown inserted behind. My cap has a peek in front, large full bows of very narrow ribbon, old tappany, are the thing. one over the right temple, perhaps, and another at the left ear. Henry is not quite well. His stomach is rather deranged. You must keep him in rhubarb, and give him plenty of port and water.

He caught his cold farther back than I told you, before he got to Matlock, somewhere in his journey from the north, but the ill effects of that, I hope, are nearly gone. We returned from Grafton House only just in time for breakfast, and had scarcely finished, breakfast when the carriage came to the door. From eleven to half past three we were hard at it. We did contrive to get to Hans' place for ten minutes. Mrs. T. was as affectionate and pleasing as ever. After our return, Mr. Tilsen walked up from the Compting House and called upon us, and these have been all our visitings. I have rejoiced more than once that I bought my writing paper in the country. We have not had a quarter of an hour to spare. I enclose the eight-pence due

to my mother. The rose-colour was six shillings and the other four shillings per yard. There was but two yards and a quarter of the dark slate in the shop, but the man promised to match it and send it oft correctly. Fanny bought her Irish at Newtons and Leicester Square, and I took the opportunity of thinking about your Irish, and seeing one piece of the yard wide at four shillings, and it seemed to be very good, good enough for your purpose. It might at least be worth your while to go there if you have no other engagements. Fanny is very much pleased with the stockings she is bought of Remington, silk at twelve shillings, cotton at four shillings threepence. She thinks them great bargains, but I have not yet seen them, as my hair was dressing when

the man and the stockings came. The poor girls and their teeth. I have not mentioned them yet, but we were a whole hour at Spences, and Lizzie's were filed and lamented over again, and poor Marianne had two taken out after all, and the two just beyond the eye-teeth, to make room for those in front. When her doom was fixed, Fanny, Lizzie and I walked into the next room, where we had each of the two sharp and hasty screams. The little girl's teeth, I can suppose, in a critical state, but I think he must be a lover of teeth and money and mischief to parade about Fanny's.

I would not have him look at mine for a shilling a tooth and double it. It was a disagreeable hour. We then went to Wedgewoods, where my brother and Fanny chose a dinner set. I believe the pattern is a small lozenge in purple, between lines of narrow gold, and it is to have the crest. We must have been three quarters of an hour at Grafton House, Edward sitting by all the time with wonderful patience. There Fanny brought the net for Anna's gown and a beautiful square veil for herself.

The edging there is very cheap. I was tempted by some, and I brought some very nice plaiting lace at three shillings and fourpence. Fanny desires me to tell Martha, with her kind love, that Birchall assured her there was no second set of Hook's lessons for beginners, and that by my advice she is therefore chosen her as set by another composer. I thought she would rather have something than not. It cost six shillings. With love to you all, including Triggs, I remain, yours very affectionately, J. Austin. Letter 47. Godmisham Park, Thursday, September 23rd. My dearest Cassandra, thank you five hundred and forty times for the exquisite piece of workmanship which was brought into the room this morning while we were at breakfast, with some

very inferior works of art in the same way, and which I read with high glee, much delighted with everything it told, whether good or bad. It is so rich in striking intelligence that I hardly know what to reply to first. I believe finery must have it. I am extremely glad that you like the poplin. I thought it would have my mother's approbation, but was not so confident of yours. Remember that it is a present. Do not refuse me. I am very rich. Mrs. Clement is very welcome to her little boy, and my congratulations into the bargain, if you ever think of giving them. I hope she will do well. Her sister in Lucina, Mrs. H. Gipps, does too well, we think. Mary P. wrote on Sunday that she'd been three days on the sofa.

Sacri does not approve it. Well, there is some comfort in the Mrs. Hullbart's not coming to you, and I am happy to hear of the honey. I was thinking of it the other day. Let me know when you begin the new tea and the new white wine. My present elegances have not yet made me indifferent to such matters. I am still a cat if I see a mouse. I am glad you like our new caps, but Fanny is out of conceit with hers already. She finds that she has been buying a new cap without having a new pattern, which is true

enough. She is rather out of luck to like neither her gown nor her cap, but I do not much mind it, because besides that I like them both myself, I consider it as a thing, of course, at her time of life, one of the sweet taxes of youth to choose in a hurry and make bad bargains. I wrote to Charles yesterday, and Fanny has had a letter from him today, principally to make inquiries about the time of their visit here, to which mine was an answer beforehand, so he'll probably write again soon to fix his week.

I am best pleased that Cassie does not go to you. Now what have we been doing since I wrote last? The Mr. Kay's came a little before dinner on Monday, and Edward went to the church with the two seniors, but there is no inscription yet drawn up. They are very good-natured, you know. and civil and all that, but are not particularly super fine. However, they ate their dinner and drank their tea, and went away, leaving their lovely waddam in our arms, and I wish you had seen

Fanny and me running backwards and forwards with his breeches from the little chintz to the white room before we went to bed, in the greatest of frights, lest he should come upon us before we had done at all. There had been a mistake in the housemaid's preparation, and they were gone to bed. He seems a very harmless sort of young man, nothing to like or dislike in him, goes out shooting or hunting with the two others all the morning, and plays it whist, and makes queer faces in the evening. End of Section 20. Section 21 of the Letters of Jane Austen. This Librevax recording is in the public domain. Letter 48 Godmisham Park Monday, October 11th.

My dearest Aunt Cass, I've just asked Aunt Jane to let me write a little in her letter, but she does not like it, so I won't. Good-bye. You will have Edward's letter to-morrow. He tells me that he did not send you any news to interfere with mine, but I do not think there is much for anybody to send at present. We had our dinner party on Wednesday, with the addition of Mrs. and Miss Mills, who were under a promise of dining here and their return from Eastwell, whenever they paid their visit of duty there, and it happened to be paid on that day. Both mother and daughter are much as I have always found them.

I like the mother, first because she reminds me of Mrs. Birch, and secondly, because she is cheerful and grateful for what she is at the age of ninety and upwards. The day was pleasant enough. I sat by Mr. Chisholm, and we talked away at a great rate about nothing worth hearing. It was a mistake as to the day of the Sherrers going being fixed. They are ready, but are waiting for Mr. Padgett's answer. I inquired of Mrs. Mills after Jemima Bridges, and was quite grieved to hear that she was obliged to leave Canterbury some months ago,

on account of her debts, and is nobody knows where. What an unprosperous family! On Saturday, soon after breakfast, Mr. J.P. left us for Norton Court. I like him very much. He gives me the idea of a very amiable young man, only too diffident to be so agreeable as he might be. He was out, the chief of each morning with the other two, shooting and getting wet through. Tomorrow we are to know whether he and a hundred young ladies will come here for the ball. I do not much expect any.

The deeds cannot meet us. They have engagements at home. I will finish the deeds by saying that they are not likely to come here till quite late in my stay, the very last week, perhaps, and I do not expect to see the moors at all. They are not solicited till after Edwards return from Hampshire. Monday, November 15th is the day now fixed for our setting out. Poor Basingstoke races. There seem to have been two particularly wretched days on purpose for them, and Weigh-Hill Week does not begin much happier. We were quite surprised by a letter from Anna at Tollard Royal last Saturday, but perfectly approve her going, and only regret they

should all go so far, to stay so few days. We had thunder and lightning here on Thursday morning, between five and seven. No very bad thunder, but a great deal of lightning. It has given the commencement of a season of wind and rain, and perhaps for the next six weeks we shall not have two dry days together. Lizzie is very much obliged to you for your letter. and will answer it soon, but has so many things to do that it may be four or five days before she can. This is quite her own message, spoken in rather a desponding tone. Your letter gave pleasure to all of us. We heard all the reading of it, of course. I, three times, as I undertook, to the great relief of Lizzie, to read it to Sacri, and afterwards to Louisa.

her. Sacri does not at all approve of Mary Doe and her nuts, on the score of propriety rather than health. She saw some signs of going after her in George and Henry, and thinks if you could give the girl a check, by rather reproving her for taking anything seriously about nuts which they said to her, it might be of use. This, of course, is between our three discreet selves, a scene of triennial bliss. Mrs. Breton called here on Saturday. never saw her before. She is a large, ungentile woman, with self-satisfied and would-be elegant manners. We are certain of some visitors to-morrow. Edward Bridges comes for two nights in his way from Lennam to Ramsgate, and brings a friend, name unknown, but supposed to be a Mr. Harper,

a neighbouring clergyman, and Mr. R. Maskell is to shoot with the young men, which it is to be supposed will end in his staying dinner. On Thursday, Mr. Lushington, MP for Canterbury, and manager of the Lodgehounds, dines here and stays the night. He is chiefly young Edward's acquaintance. If I can, I will get a frank from him, and write to you all the sooner. I suppose the Ashford Ball will furnish something. As I wrote of my nephews with a little bitterness in my last, I think it particularly incumbent on me to do them justice now, and I have great pleasure in saying they were both at the sacrament. yesterday. After having much praised or much blamed anybody, one is generally sensible of something just the reverse soon afterwards. Now these two boys, who are out with the foxhounds, will come home and disgust me again, by some habit of luxury, or some proof of sporting mania, unless I keep it off by this prediction. They amuse themselves very comfortably in the evening by netting. They're each about a rabbit net, and sit as deedily to it side by side, as any two

Uncle Franks could do. I am looking over self-control again, and my opinion is confirmed of its being an excellently meant, elegantly written work, without anything of nature or probability in it. I declare I do not know whether Laura's passage down the American River is not the most natural, possible, everyday thing she ever does. Tuesday Dear me, what is to become of me? Such a long letter.

two and forty lines in the second page. Like Harriet Byron, I ask, What am I to do with my gratitude? I can do nothing but thank you and go on. A few of your inquiries, I think, are replied to, on avance. The name of F. Cage's drawing-master is O'Neill. We are exceedingly amused with your Sheldon news, and your self-reproach on the subject of Mrs. Stockwell made me laugh heartily.

I rather wondered that John Cock, the only person in the room, could help laughing too. I had not heard before of her having the measles. Mrs. H. and Althea's staying till Friday was quite new to me. A good plan, however. I could not have settled it better myself, and am glad they found so much in the house to approve, and I hope they will ask Martha to visit them.

I admire the sagacity and taste of Charlotte Williams. Those large, dark eyes always judge well. I will compliment her by naming a heroine after her. Edward has had all the particulars of the building, etc., read to him twice over, and seems very well satisfied. A narrow door to the pantry is the only subject of solicitude. It is certainly just the door which should not be narrow, on account of the trays. But, if a case of necessity, it must be borne.

I knew there was sugar in the tin, but had no idea of there being enough to last through your company. All the better. You ought not to think this new loaf better than the other. because that was the first of five which all came together. Something of fancy, perhaps, and something of imagination. Dear Mrs. Digweed, I cannot bear that she should not be foolishly happy after a ball. I hope Miss Yates and her companions were all well the day after their arrival.

I am thoroughly rejoiced that Miss Ben has placed herself in lodgings, though I hope they may not be long necessary. No letter from Charles yet. Southie's Life of Nelson I am tired of lives of Nelson being that I never read any I will read this however if Frank is mentioned in it

Here am I in Kent With one brother in the same county And another brother's wife And see nothing of them Which seems unnatural It will not last so forever I trust I should like to have Mrs. F.A. and her children here for a week

but not a syllable of that nature has ever breathed. I wish her last visit had not been so long a one. I wonder whether Mrs. Tilsen has ever lain in. Mention it, if it ever comes to your knowledge, and we shall hear of it by the same post from Henry. Mr. Rob Maskell breakfasted here. He eats a great deal of butter. I dined upon goose yesterday,

which I hope will secure a good sale of my second edition. Have you any tomatoes? Fanny and I regale on them every day. Disastrous letters from the plump trees and oxendens. Refusals everywhere. A blank partue. And it is not quite certain whether we go or not. Something may depend upon the disposition of Uncle Edward when he comes, and upon what we hear at Chilham Castle this morning,

for we are going to pay visits. We are going to each house at Chillam and Maistel. I shall like seeing the fags. "'I shall like it all, except that we are to set out so early, "'that I have not time to write as I wish.' "'Edward Bridges' friend as a Mr. Hawker, I find, not Harper. "'I would not have you sleep in such an error for the world.' "'My brother desires his best love and thanks for all your information.

"'He hopes the roots of the old beach have been dug away enough "'to allow a proper covering of mould and turf. "'He is sorry for the necessity of building the new coin, but hopes they will contrive that the doorway should be of the usual width, if it must be contracted on one side, by widening it on the other. The appearance need not signify, and he desires me to say that your being at Chawton when he is will be quite necessary. You cannot think it more indispensable than he does. He is very much obliged to you for your attention to everything. Have you any idea of returning with him to Henrietta Street and finishing your visit then? Tell me your sweet little innocent ideas. Everything of love and kindness, proper and improper, must now suffice. Yours very affectionately, J. Austin. Letter 49 Godmisham Park Thursday, October 14th.

My dearest Cassandra. Now I will prepare for Mr. Lushington, and as it will be wisest also to prepare for his not coming, or mine not getting a frank, I shall write very close from the first, and evenly leave room for the seal in the proper place. When I have followed up my last with this, I shall feel somewhat less unworthy of you than the state of our correspondence now requires.

I left off in a great hurry to prepare for our morning visits. Of course, was ready a great deal the first, and need not have hurried so much. Fanny wore her new gown and cap. I was surprised to find my stow so pretty. The ladies were at home. I was in luck and saw Lady Fagg and all her five daughters, with an old Mrs. Hamilton from Canterbury, and Mrs. and Miss Chapman from Margaret into the bargain.

I never saw so plain a family, five sisters so very plain. They are as plain as the foresters, or the Franfrodops, or the sea graves, or the rivers, excluding Sophie. Miss Sally Fagg has a pretty figure, and that comprises all the good looks of the family. It was stupidish. Fanny did her part very well, but there was a lack of talk altogether, and the three friends in the house only sat by and looked at us. However, Miss Chapman's name is Laura, and she had a double flounce to her gown. You really must get some flounces. Are not some of your large stock of white morning gowns just in a happy state for a flounce? Too short? Nobody at home at either house in Chillam. Edward Bridges and his friend did not forget to arrive. The friend is a Mr. Wigram, one of the three-and-twenty children of a rich great mercantile, Sir Robert Wigram, an old acquaintance of the Foots, but very recently known to Edward B.

The history of his coming here is that, intending to go from Ramsgate to Brighton, Edward B. persuaded him to take Lenham on his way, which gave him the convenience of Mr. W.'s gig, and the comfort of not being alone there. But, probably thinking a few days of Godmisham would be the cheapest and pleasantest way of entertaining his friend and himself, offered a visit here, and here they stay till to-morrow. Mr. W. is about five or six in twenty, not ill-looking, and not agreeable. He is certainly no addition, a sort of cool gentleman-like manner, but very silent. They say his name is Henry. a proof how unequally the gifts of fortune are bestowed. I have seen many a John and Thomas

much more agreeable. We have got rid of Mr. R. Maskell, however. I did not like him either. He talks too much, and is conceited, besides having a vulgally shaped mouth. He slept here on Tuesday, so that yesterday Fanny and I sat down to breakfast with six gentlemen to admire us. We did not go to the ball. It was left to her to decide, and at last she did. determined against it. She knew that it would be a sacrifice on the part of her father and brothers if they went, and I hope it will prove that she is not sacrificed much. It is not likely that there should have been anybody there whom she would care for. I was very glad to be spared the trouble of dressing and going, and being weary before it was half over, so my gown and my cap

are still unworn. It will appear at last, perhaps, that I might have done without either. I produced my brown bombazine yesterday, and it was very much admired as. indeed, and I like it better than ever. You have given many particulars of the state of Chorton House, but still we want more. Edward wants to be expressly told that all the round, tower, etc., is entirely down, and the door from the best room stopped up. He does not know enough of the appearance of things in that quarter. He heard from Bath yesterday. Lady B. continues very well, and Dr. Parry's opinion is that while the water agrees with her, she ought to remain there, which throws their coming away at a greater uncertainty than we had supposed.

It will end, perhaps, in a fit of the gout, which may prevent her coming away. Louisa thinks her mother's being so well may be quite as much owing to her being out of doors as to the water. Lady B. is going to try the hot pump, the cross-bath being about to be painted. Louisa is particularly well herself, and thinks the water has been of use to her. She mentioned our inquiries, etc., to miss her. She mentioned our inquiries, etc., to Mr. and Mrs. Alex Evelyn, and had their best compliments, and thanks to give in return. Dr. Perry does not expect Mr. E. to last much longer. Only think of Mrs. Holders being dead.

Poor woman. She has done the only thing in the world she could possibly do to make one cease to abuse her. Now, if you please, Hooper must have it in his power to do more by his uncle. Lucky for the little girl. An Anne Elkins can hardly be so unfit for the care of a child as a Mrs. Holder. A letter from Rotham yesterday offering an early visit here, and Mr. and Mrs. Moore and one child are to come on Monday for ten days. I hope Charles and Fanny may not fix the same time, but if they come at all in October they must.

What is the use of hoping? The two parties of children is the chief evil. To be sure, here we are. The very thing has happened, or rather worse, a letter from Charles this very morning, which gives us reason to suppose they may come here today. It depends upon the weather, and the weather is now very fine. No difficulties are made, however, and indeed there will be no want of room, that I wish there were no Wigrams and Lushingtons in the way to fill up the table and make us such a motley set. I cannot spare Mr. Lushington either, because of his

Frank, but Mr. Wigram does no good to anybody. I cannot imagine how a man can have the impudence to come to a family party for three days, where he is quite a stranger, unless he knows himself to be agreeable, on undoubted authority. He and Edward B. are going to ride to Eastwell, and as the boys are hunting, and my brother has gone to Canterbury, Fanny and I have a quiet morning before us. Edward has driven off poor Mrs. Salkald. It was thought a good opportunity of doing something towards clearing the house. By her own desire, Mrs. Fanny, is to be put in the room next to the nursery,

her baby in a little bed beside her, and as Cassie is to have the closet within, and Betsy Williams' little hole, they will all be very snug together. I shall be most happy to see, dear Charles, and he'll be as happy as he can with a cross child, or some such care, pressing on him at the time. I should be very happy in the idea of seeing little Cassie again, too.

Did not I fear she would deserve, me by some immediate disagreeableness. The comfort of the billiard table here is very great. It draws all the gentlemen to it whenever they are within, especially after dinner, so that my brother, Fanny, and I have the library to ourselves and delightful quiet. There is no truth in the report of G. Hatton being to marry Miss Wemmonds. He desires it may be contradicted. Have you done anything about our present, Miss Ben? I suppose she must have a bed at my mother's whenever she dines there.

How are they managed as to inviting her when you were gone? And if they invite, how will they continue to entertain her? Let me know as many of your parting arrangements as you can, as to wine, etc. I wonder whether the ink bottle has been filled. Does butcher's meat keep up at the same price, and is not bred lower than two shillings and sixpence? Mary's blue gown? My mother must be in agonies. I have a great mind to have my blue gown died sometime or other.

I proposed it once to you, and you made some objection. I forget what. It is the fashion of flounces that gives it particular expediency. Mrs. and Miss Wildman have just been here. Miss is very plain. I wish Lady B. may be returned before we lead Govmisham, that Fanny may spend the time of her father's absence at Goodnaston, which is what she would prefer. Friday They came last night at about seven. We had given the mum. up, but I still expected them to come.

Desert was nearly over, a better time for arriving than an hour and a half earlier. They were late because they did not set out earlier, and did not allow time enough. Charles did not aim at more than reaching Sittingbourne by three, which could not have brought them here by dinner-time. They had a very rough passage. He would not have ventured if he had known how bad it would be. However, here they are, safe and well, just like their own nice selves, Fanny looking as neat and white this morning as possible, and dear Charles all-affectionate, placid, quiet, cheerful good humour. They are both looking very well,

but poor little Cassie has grown extremely thin and looks poorly. I hope a week's country air and exercise may do her good. I am sorry to say it can be but a week. The baby does not appear so large and proportion as she was, nor quite so pretty, but I have seen very little of her. Cassie was too tired and bewildered just at first to seem to know anybody. We met them in the hall, the women and girl part of us, but before we reached the library she kissed me very affectionately, and has since seemed to recollect me in the same way.

It was quite an evening of confusion, as you may suppose. At first we were all walking about from one part of the house to the other, then came a fresh dinner in the breakfast room for Charles and his wife, which Fanny and I attended. Then we were all walking about from one part of the house, then we moved into the library, were joined by the dining-room people, were introduced, and so forth. And then we had tea and coffee, which was not over till past ten. Billiards again drew all the odd ones away, and Edward, Charles, the two Fannies and I sat snugly talking. I shall be glad to have our numbers a little reduced, and by the time you receive this we shall be only a family, though a large family, party.

Mr. Lushington goes to-morrow. Now I must speak of him, and I like him very much. I am sure he is clever, and a man of taste. He got a volume of Milton last night, and spoke of it with warmth. He is quite an MP, very smiling, with an exceeding good address and readiness of language. I am rather in love with him. I dare say he is ambitious and insincere. He puts me in mind of Mr. Dundas. He has a wide, smiling mouth and very good teeth, and something the same complexion and knows. He is a much shorter man, with Martha's leave. Does Martha never hear from Mrs. Craven? Is Mrs. Craven never at home? We breakfasted in the dining-room today, and are now all pretty well dispersed and

quiet. Charles and George are gone out shooting together, to winnagates and seat in wood. I asked on purpose to tell Henry. Mr. Lushington and Edward had gone some other way. I wish Charles may kill something, but this high wind is against their sport. Lady Williams is living at the Rose and Sittingbourne. They called upon her yesterday. She cannot live at Sheerness, and as soon as she gets to Sittingbourne is quite well. In return for all your matches, I announce that her brother William is going to marry a Miss Austin of a Wiltshire family, who say they are related to us.

I talked to Cassie about Chorton. She remembers much, but does not volunteer on the subject. Poor little love. I wish she were not so very palmery, but it seems stronger than ever. I never knew a wife's family features have such undue influence. Papa and Mama have not made up their mind as departing with her or not. The Chief, indeed the only difficulty with Mama, is a very reasonable one, the child's being very unwilling to leave them. When it was mentioned to her she did not like the idea of it at all. At the same time, she has been suffering so much lately from seasickness that her Mama

cannot bear to have her much on board this winter. Charles is less inclined to part with her. I do not know how it will end, or what is to determine it. He desires his best love to you, and is not written because he has not been able to decide. They are both very sensible of your kindness on the occasion. I have made Charles furnish me with something to say about young Kendall. He is going on very well. When he first joined the Namur, my brother did not find him forward enough to be what they

call put in the office, and therefore placed him under the schoolmaster. But he is very much improved, and goes into the office now every afternoon, still attending school in the morning. This cold weather comes very fortunately for Edward's nerves, with such a house full. It suits him exactly. He is all alive and cheerful. Poor James, on the contrary, must be running his toes into the fire. I find that Mary Jane Fowell was very near returning with her brother, and paying them a visit on board. I forget exactly what hindered her. I believe the Cheltenham scheme.

I am glad something did. They are to go to Cheltenham on Monday, Sunday, night. I don't vouch for their going, you know. It only comes from one of the family. Now I think I have written you a good-sized letter, and may deserve whatever I can get in reply. Infinities of love. I must distinguish that of Fanny Senior,

who particularly desires to be remembered to you all. Yours very affectionately, Jay Austin. End of Section 21. Section 22 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. Letter 50 Godmisham Park, October 18th. My dear Aunt Cassandra, I am very much obliged to you for your long letter, and for the nice account of Chorton.

We are all very glad to hear that the Adams are gone, and hope Dame Lipskin would be more happy now with her deafy child, as she calls it, but I am afraid there is not much chance of her remaining long-soum mistress of her house. I am sorry you had not any better news to send us of our hair, poor little thing. I thought it would not live long in that Pondy house. I don't wonder that Mary Doe is very sorry it is dead, because we promised her that if it was alive and we came back to Chorton, we would reward her for her trouble.

Papa is very much obliged to you for ordering the scrubby furs to be cut down. I think he was rather frightened at first about the great oak. Fanny quite believed it, for she exclaimed, Dear me, what a pity! How could they be so stupid? I hope by this time they have to put up some hurdles for the sheep, or turn out the cart-horses from the lawn. Pray tell Grandmama that we have begun getting seeds for her. I hope you shall be able to get her a nice collection,

but I am afraid this wet weather is very much against them. How glad I am to hear that she had such good success with her chickens, but I wish there had been some more bantoms among them. I am very sorry to hear of poor Lizzie's fate. I must now tell you something about our poor people. I believe you know, old Mary Croucher. She gets madderer and madderer every day. Aunt Jane has been to see her, but it was on one of her rational days.

Poor Will Amos hopes your skewers are doing well. he has left his house in the poor row and lives in a barn at building. We asked him why he went away, and he said the fleas were so starved and he came back from Chorton that they all flew upon him, and enermost et him up. How unlucky it is that the weather is so wet. Poor Uncle Charles has come home half-drowned every day. I don't think Little Fanny is quite so pretty as she was. One reason is because she wears short petticoats, I believe.

I hope Cook is better. She was very unwell the day before we went away. Papa has given me a half-dozen new pencils, which are very good ones indeed. I draw every other day. I hope you go and whip Lucy Chalcraft every night. Miss Clues begs me to give her very best respects to you. She is very much obliged to you for your kind inquiries after her.

Pray give my duty to Grandmama and love to Miss Floyd. I remain, my dear Aunt Cassandra, your very affectionate niece, Elizabeth Knight. Thursday. I think Lizzie's letter will entertain you. Thank you for yours just received. Tomorrow shall be fine if possible. You'll be at Guildford before our party set off. They only go to Key Street, as Mr. Street the purser lives there, and they have promised to dine and sleep with him. Cassie's looks are much mended. She agrees pretty well with her cousins, but is not quite happy among them. They are too many and too boisterous for her. I have given her your message, but she said nothing, and did not look as if the idea of going to Chorton

again was a pleasant one. They have Edward's carriage to Ospringe. I think I have just done a good deed, extracted Charles from his wife and children upstairs, and made him get ready to go out shooting, and not keep Mr. Moore waiting any longer. Mr. and Mrs. Sherrard and Joseph dined her yesterday very prettily. Edward and George were absent, gone for a night to Eastling. The The two Fanny's went to Canterbury in the morning, and took Lou and Cass to try our new stays. Harriet and I had a comfortable walk together. She desires her best love to you, and kind remembrance to Henry.

Fanny's best love also. I fancy there is to be another party to Canterbury tomorrow, Mr. and Mrs. Moore and me. Edward thanks Henry for his letter. We are most happy to hear he is so much better. I depend upon you for letting me know what he wishes as to my staying with him or not. "'You'll be able to find out, I dare say. "'I had intended to beg you would bring one of my nightcaps with you, "'in case of my staying, but forgot it when I wrote on Tuesday.

"'Edward is much concerned about his pond. "'He cannot now doubt the fact of its running out, "'which he was resolved to do as long as possible. "'I suppose my mother will like to have me right to her. "'I shall try, at least. "'No, I have never seen the death of Mrs. Crabb. "'I have only just been making out from one of his prefaces that he probably was married. It is almost ridiculous. Poor woman. I will comfort him as well as I can,

but I do not undertake to be good to her children. She had better not leave any. Edward and George set off this day week for Oxford. Our party will then be very small, as the moors will be going about the same time. To enliven us, Fanny proposes spending a few days soon afterwards at Fredville. It will really be a good opportunity, as her father will have a companion. We shall all three go to Rotham, but Edward and I stay only a night, perhaps. Loved Mr. Tilsen. Yours very affectionately, J.A. Letter 51. Godmisham Park, Wednesday, November 3rd. My dearest Cassandra, I will keep this celebrated birthday by writing to you, and as my pen seems inclined to write large, I will put my lines very close together. I had but just a

time to enjoy your letter yesterday before Edward and I set off in the chair for Canterbury, and I allowed him to hear the chief of it as we went along. We rejoice sincerely in Henry's gaining ground as he does, and hope there will be weather for him to get out every day this week, as the likeliest way of making him equal to what he plans for the next. If he is tolerably well, the going into Oxfordshire will make him better, by making him happier. Can it be that I have not given you the minutia of Edward's plans? See, here they are. To go to Rotherham on Saturday the 13th, spend Sunday there, and be in town on Monday to dinner, and, if agreeable to Henry, spend one whole day with him, which day is likely to be Tuesday,

and so go down to Chorton on Wednesday. But now I cannot be quite easy without staying a little, while with Henry, unless he wishes it otherwise. His illness and the dull time of year together make me feel that it would be horrible of me not to offer to remain with him, and therefore, unless you know of any objection, I wish you would tell him with my best love that I shall be most happy to spend ten days or a fortnight in Henrietta Street if he will accept me. I do not offer more than a fortnight, because I shall then have been some time from home, but it will be a great pleasure to be with him, as it always is. I have the less regret and scruple on your account, because I shall see you for a day and a half,

and because you will have Edward for at least a week. My scheme is to take Bookham in my way home for a few days, and my hope that Henry will be so good as to send me some part of the way thither. I have a most kind repetition of Mrs. Cook's two or three dozen invitations, with the offer of meeting me anywhere in one of her earrings. Fanny's cold is much better. By dozing and keeping her room on Sunday, she got rid of the worst of it, but I am rather afraid of what this day may do for her.

She has gone to Canterbury, with Miss Clues, Liz, and Marianne. and is but roguish weather for anyone in a tender state. Miss Clues has been going to Canterbury ever since her return, and it is just now accomplishing. Edward and I had a delightful morning for our drive there. I enjoyed it thoroughly, but the day turned off before we were ready, and we came home in some rain and the apprehension of a great deal.

It is not done us any harm, however. He went to inspect the jail as a visiting magistrate, and took me with him. I was gratified, and went through all the feelings which people must go through, I think, in visiting such a building. We paid no other visits, only walked about snugly together, and shopped. I bought a concert ticket, and a sprig of flowers for my old age. To vary the subject from gay to grave with an imitable address, I shall now tell you something of the bath-party, and still a bath-party they are, for a fit of the gout

came on last week. The accounts of Lady B are as good as can be under such a circumstance. Dr. P. says it appears a very good sort of gout, and his spirits are better than usual. But as to her coming away, it is, of course, all uncertainty. I have very little doubt of Edwards going down to Bath, if they have not left it when he is in Hampshire. If he does, he will go on from Steventon, and then return direct to London, without coming back to Chorton. This detention does not suit his feelings. It may be rather a good thing, however, that Dr. P. should see Lady B with the gout on her. Harriet was quite wishing for it.

The day seems to improve. I wish my pen would, too. Sweet, Mr. Ogle. I dare say he sees all the panoramas for nothing, has free admittance everywhere. He is so delightful. Now you need not see anybody else. I am glad to hear about being likely to have a peep at Charles and Fanny at Christmas,

but do not force poor Cass to stay if she hates it. You have done very much. right as to Mrs. F.A. Your tidings of S and S give me pleasure. I have never seen it advertised. Harriet, in a letter to Fanny today, inquires whether they sell cloths for policees at Bedford House, and if they do, will be very much obliged to you to desire them to centre down patterns, with the widths and prices. They may go from Charing Cross almost any day in the week, but if it is a ready money-house it will not do. For the brew of fur the Archbishop says she cannot pay for it immediately. Fanny and I suspect they do not deal in the article.

The Sherrers, I believe, are now really going to go. Joseph has had a bed here the last two nights, and I do not know whether this is not the day of moving. Mrs. Shera called yesterday to take leave. The weather looks worse again. We dine at Chillam Castle tomorrow, and I expect to find some amusement, but more from the concert the next day, as I am sure of seeing several that I want to We are to meet a party from Goodnaston, Lady B, Miss Hawley, and Lucy Foote, and I am to meet Mrs. Harrison, and we are to talk about Ben and Anna. "'My dear Mrs. Harrison, I shall say, I am afraid the young man has some of your family madness, and though there often appears to be something of madness in Anna, too, I think she inherits

more of it from her mother's family than from ours. That is what I shall say, and I think she will find it difficult to answer me.' I took up your letter again to refresh me, being somewhat tired, and was struck with the prettiness of the hand. It is really a very pretty hand now and then, so small and neat. I wish I could get as much into a sheet of paper. Another time I will take two days to make a letter in. It is fatiguing to write a whole long one at once.

I hope to hear from you again on Sunday, and again on Friday, the day before we move. On Monday, I suppose, you'll be going to Streatham, to see quiet Mr. Hill, and eat very bad baker's bread. A fall in bread, by the by, I hope my mother's bill next week will show it. I have had a very comfortable letter from her, one of her four-scap-sheets quite full of little home news. Anna was there the first of the two days. An Anna sent away, and an Anna fetched are different things. This will be an excellent time for Ben to pay his visit, now that we, the formidable's, are absent. I did not mean to eat, but Mr. Johncock is brought in the tray, so I must. I am all alone. Edward has gone into his woods.

At this present time I have five tables, eight and twenty chairs, and two fires all to myself. Miss Clues is to be invited to go to the concert with us. There will be my brother's place and ticket for her, as he cannot go. He and the other connections of the cages are to meet at Millgate that very day, to consult about a proposed alteration of the Maidstone Road, in which the cages are very much interested. Sir Brooke comes here in the morning, and they are to be joined by Mr. Deeds at Ashford. The loss of the concert will be no great evil to the squire.

We shall be a party of three ladies, therefore, and to meet three ladies. What a convenient carriage, Henry's is, to his friends in general. Who has it next? I am glad Williams going is voluntary, and on no worse grounds. An inclination for the country is a venial fault.

He has more of Cowper than of Johnson and him, fonder of tame hairs and blank verse, than of the full tide of human existence at Charing Cross. Oh, I have more of such sweet flattery from Miss Sharp. She is an excellent kind friend. I am read and admired an Ireland, too. There is a Mrs. Fletcher, the wife of a judge, an old lady, and very good and very clever, who is all curiosity to know about me, what I am like and so forth. I am not known to her by name, however. This comes through Mrs. Carrick, not through Mrs. Gore. You are quite out there. I do not despair of having my picture in the exhibition at last, all white and red, with my head on one side,

or perhaps I may marry young Mr. Darbley. I suppose, in the meantime, I shall owe dear Henry a great deal of money for printing, etc. I hope Mrs. Fletcher will indulge herself with S and S. If I am to stay in H.S., and you should be writing home soon, I wish you'd be so good as to give a hint of it, for I am not likely to write there again these ten days, having written yesterday. Fanny has set her heart upon its being a Mr. Brett, who is going to marry a Miss Dora Best, of this country. I dare say Henry has no objection. Pray, where did the boys sleep? The deeds come here on Monday to stay till Friday, so that we shall end with a flourish the last canto.

They bring Isabella and one of the grown-ups, and will come in for a Canterbury ball on Thursday. I shall be glad to see them. Mrs. Deeds and I must talk rationally together, I suppose. Edward does not write to Henry, because of my writing so often. God bless you. I shall be so glad to see you again, and I wish you many happy returns of this day. Poor Lord Howard! How he just cry about it! Yours very truly, J.A.

End of Section 22. Section 23 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librovac's recording is in the public domain. Letter 52. Godmisham Park, Saturday, November 6th. My dearest Cassandra. Having half an hour before breakfast, very snug in my own room,

lovely morning, excellent fire, fancy me. I will give you some account of the last two days. And yet what is there to be told? I shall get foolishly minute, unless I cut them out a short. We met only the Bretons at Chilham Castle, besides a Mr. and Mrs. Osborne and a Miss Lee staying in the house, and were only fourteen altogether. My brother and Fanny thought it the pleasantest party they had ever known there, and I was very well entertained by bits and scraps. I had long wanted to see Dr. Breton, and his wife amuses me very much with her affected refinement and elegance.

Miss Lee, I found very conversable. She admires crab as she ought. She is at an age of reason, ten years older than myself at least. She was at the famous ball at Chillam Castle, so of course you remember her. By the by, as I must leave off being young, I find many do-surs in being a sort of chaperone, Friam put on the sofa near the fire, and can drink as much wine as I like. We had music in the evening. Fanny and Mrs. Wildman played, and Mr. James Wildman sat close by and listened, or pretended to listen. Yesterday was a day of dissipation all through. First came Sir Brooke to dissipate us before breakfast, then there was a call for Mr. Shearer, then a regular morning visit from Lady Honeywood, in her way home from Eastwell.

Then Sir Brooke and Edward set off Then we dined Five in number At half past four Then we had coffee And at six Miss Clues Fanny and I drove away We had a beautiful night for our frisks

We were earlier than we need have been But after a time Lady B and her two companions appeared We had kept places for them And there we sat All six in a row under a side wall I between Lucy Foote and Miss Clues Lady B was much what I expected

I could not determine whether she was rather handsome or very plain I liked her for being in a hurry to have the concert over and get away and for getting away at last with a great deal of decision and promptness not waiting to compliment and dawdle and fuss about seeing dear Fanny who was half the evening in another part of the room with her friend the plum-trees I am growing too minute so I will go to breakfast When the concert was over, Mrs. Harrison and I found each other out, and had a very comfortable little complimentary friendly chat. She is a sweet woman, still quite a sweet woman in herself, and so like her sister. I could almost have thought I was speaking to Mrs. Lafroy. She introduced me to her daughter, whom I think pretty, but most dutifully inferior to La Mere Butte. The Fags and the Hammons were there, William Hammond, the only young man of renown. Miss looked very handsome, but I prefer her little smiling, flirting sister, Julia.

I was just introduced at last to marry Plumtree, but I should hardly know her again. She was delighted with me, however, good enthusiastic soul, and Lady B found me handsomer than she expected. So you see, I am not so very bad as you might think for. It was twelve before we reached home. We were all dog-tired, but pretty well today. "'Mrs. Clues says she has not caught cold, and Fanny's does not seem worse. "'I was so tired that I began to wonder how I should get through the ball next Thursday. "'But there will be so much more variety then in walking about, "'and probably so much less heat, that perhaps I may not feel it more.

"'My china crape is still kept for the ball. "'Enough of the concert.' "'I had a letter from Mary yesterday. "'They travelled down to Cheltenham last Monday very safely, and are certainly to be there a month. Bath is still Bath. The H. Bridges must quit them early next week, and Louisa seems not quite to despair of they're all moving together,

but to those who see at a distance there appears no chance of it. Dr. Perry does not want to keep Lady B at Bath when she can once move. That is lucky. You will see poor Mr. Evelyn's death. Since I wrote last, my second edition has stared me in the face. Mary tells me that Eliza means to buy it. I wish she may. It can hardly depend upon any more Fifeield estates.

I cannot help hoping that many will feel themselves obliged to buy it. I shall not mind imagining it a disagreeable duty to them, so as they do it. Mary heard before she left home that it was very much admired at Cheltenham, and that it was given to Miss Hamilton. It is pleasant to have such a respectable writer named. I cannot tire you, I'm sure, on this subject, or I would apologize. What weather and what news. We have enough to do to admire them both.

I hope you derive your full share of enjoyment from each. I've extended my lights and increased my acquaintance a good deal within these two days. Lady Honeywood, you know, I did not sit near enough to be a perfect judge, but I thought her extremely pretty, and her manners have had to be. have all the recommendations of ease and good humour and unaffectedness, and going about with four horses and nicely dressed herself, she is altogether a perfect sort of woman. Oh, and I saw Mr. Gipps last night, the useful Mr. Gipps, whose attentions came in as acceptably to us and handing us to the carriage, for want of a better man, as they did to

Emma Plumtree. I thought him rather a good-looking little man. I long for your letter to-morrow, particularly that I may know my fate as to London. My first wish is that Henry should really choose what he likes best. I shall certainly not be sorry if he does not want me. Morning church tomorrow. I shall come back with impatient feelings. The sharers are gone, but the Padgetts are not come. We shall therefore have Mr. S again.

Mr. Padgett acts like an unsteady man. Dr. Hant, however, gives him a very good character. What is wrong is to be in person. to the lady. I dare say the house likes female government. I have a nice, long, black and red letter from Charles, but not communicating much that I did not know. There is some chance of a good ball next week, as far as females go. Lady Bridges may perhaps be there with some natuples. Mrs. Harrison, perhaps, with Miss Oxenden and Miss Papillon's. And if Mrs. Harrison, then Lady Fagg will come. The shades of evening are descending, and I resume my interesting narrative. Sir Brooke and my

my brother came back about four, and Sir Brooke almost immediately set forward again to Goodnaston. We are to have Edward be tomorrow, to pay us another Sunday's visit, the last for more reasons than one. They all come home on the same day that we go. The deeds do not come till Tuesday. Sophia is to be the comer. She is a disputable beauty that I much want to see. Lady Elizabeth Hatton and Anna Maria called here this morning. Yes, they called, but I do not think I can say anything more about them. They came, and they sat, and they went. Sunday. Dearest Henry, what a turn he has for being ill, and what a thing bile is. This attack is probably been brought on in part by his previous confinement and anxiety, but however it

I hope it is going fast, and that you'll be able to send a very good account of him on Tuesday. As I hear on Wednesday, of course I shall not expect to hear again on Friday. Perhaps a letter to Rotham would not have an ill effect. We are to be off on Saturday before the post comes in, as Edward takes his own horses all the way. He talks of nine o'clock. We shall bait at Lennam. Excellent sweetness of you to send me such a nice long letter. It made its appearance with one from my mother, soon after I and my impatient feelings walked in. How glad I am that I did what I did. I was only afraid that you might think the officer

Perfluous, but you have set my heart at ease. Tell Henry that I will stay with him. Let it be ever so disagreeable to him. Oh dear me, I have not time on paper for half that I want to say. There have been two letters from Oxford, one from George yesterday. They got there very safely. Edward, two hours behind the coach, having lost his way in leaving London. George writes cheerfully and quietly, hopes to have Utterson's room soon, went to lecture on Wednesday, state some of his expenses, and concludes with saying, I'm afraid I shall be poor. I am glad he thinks about it so soon.

I believe there is no private tutor chosen yet, but my brother is to hear from Edward on the subject shortly. You and Mrs. H. and Catherine and Alephia going about together in Henry's carriage seeing sights, I am not used to the idea of it yet. All that you are to see of Streatham seen already. Your Streatham and my Bookum may go hang. The prospect of being taken down to Chorton by Henry perfects the plan to me. I was in hopes of your seeing some illuminations, and you have seen them. I thought you would come, and you did come. I am sorry he is not to come from the board, Baltic sooner. Poor Mary. My brother has a letter from Louisa today of an unwelcome nature.

They are to spend the winter at Bath. It was just decided on. Dr. Parry wished it, not from thinking the water necessary to Lady B, but that he might be better able to judge how far his treatment of her, which is totally different from anything she'd been used to, is right, and I suppose he will not mind having a few more of her ladyship's guineas. His system is a lowering one. He took twelve ounces of blood from her when the gout appeared, and forbids wine, etc. Hitherto the plan

agrees with her. She is very well satisfied to stay, but it is a sore disappointment to Louisa and Fanny. The H. Bridges leave them on Tuesday, and they mean to move into a smaller house. You may guess how Edward feels. There can be no doubt if he's going to Bath now. I should not wonder if he brought Fanny Cage back with him.

You shall hear from me once more. Some day or other. Yours very affectionately, J.A. We do not like Mr. Hampson's scheme. Letter 53. Henrietta Street, Wednesday, March 2nd, 1814. We had altogether a very good journey, and everything at Carbon was comfortable. I could not pay Mr. Harrington. That was the only alas of the business. I shall therefore return his bill, and my mother's two pounds, that you may try your luck. We did not begin reading till Bentley Green. Henry's approbation is hitherto even equal to my wishes. He says it is different from the other two, but does not appear to think it at all inferior. He is only married Mrs. R. I'm afraid he's

gone through the most entertaining part. He took to Lady B and Mrs. N most kindly, and gives great praise to the drawing of the characters. He understands them all, like Svanny, and, I think, foresees how it will all be. I finished the heroine last night, and was very much amused by it. I wonder James did not like it better. It diverted me exceedingly. We went to bed at ten. I was very tired, but slept to a miracle, and am lovely today.

And at present Henry seems to have no complaint. We left Cobham at half-past eight, stopped to bait and breakfast at Kingston, and were in this house considerably before two. Nice, smiling Mr. Barlow met us at the door, and in reply to inquiries's after news, said that peace was generally expected. I have taken possession of my bedroom, unpacked my bandbox, sent Miss Pease two letters to the Tupany Post, have been visited by Madame B, and am now writing by myself at the new table in the front room. It is snowing. We had some snowstorms yesterday, and a smart frost at night,

which gave us a hard road from Cobham to Kingston. But, As it was then getting dirty and heavy, Henry had a pair of leaders put on to the bottom of Sloan Street. His own horses, therefore, cannot have had hard work. I watched for veils as we drove through the streets, and had the pleasure of seeing several upon vulgar heads. And now, how do you all do? You, in particular, after the worry of yesterday and the day before. I hope Martha had a pleasant visit again, and that you and my mother could eat your beef pudding. depend upon my thinking of the chimney-sweeper as soon as I wake tomorrow.

Places are secured at Drury Lane for Saturday, but so great as the rage for seeing Keen that only a third and fourth row could be got. As it is a front box, however, I hope we shall do pretty well. Shylock, a good play for Fanny. She cannot be much affected, I think. Mrs. Perrigal has just been here. She tells me that we owe her master for the silk dyeing. My poor old muslin has never been died yet.

It has been promised to be done several times. What wicked people, dyers, are. They begin with dipping their own souls in scarlet sin. It is evening. We have drank tea, and I have torn through the third volume of the heroine. I do not think it falls off. It is a delightful burlesque, particularly on the Radcliffe style. Henry is going on with Mansfield Park.

He admires H. Crawford. I mean properly as a clever pleasant man. I tell you all the good I can, as I know how much you will enjoy it. We hear that Mr Keene is more admired than ever. There are no good places to be got in Drury Lane for the next fortnight, but Henry means to secure some for Saturday fortnight, when you are reckoned upon.

Give my loved a little Cass. I hope she found my bed comfortable last night. I've seen nobody in London yet with such a long chin as Dr. Sintax, nor anybody quite so large as Gogmogogos. Yours affectionately, Jay Austen. End of Section 23. Section 24 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librovac's recording is in the public domain.

Letter 54 Henrietta Street, Wednesday, March 9th. Well, we went to the play again last night, and as we were out a great part of the morning, too, shopping and seeing the Indian jugglers, I am very glad to be quiet now till dressing time. We are to dine at the Tilson's, and tomorrow at Mr. Spencers. We had not done breakfast yesterday when Mr. J. Plumptory appeared to say that he had secured a box. Henry asked him to dine here, which I fancy he was very happy to do,

and so at five o'clock we four sat down to table together, while the master of the house was preparing for going out himself. The farmer's wife is a musical thing in three acts, and as Edward was steady in not staying for anything more, we were home before ten. Fanny and Mr. J. P. are delighted with Miss S., and her merit in singing is, I dare say, very great. That she gave me no pleasure is no reflection upon her, nor, I hope upon myself, being what nature made me on that article. All that I am sensible of in Miss S is a pleasing person, and does not do you know, and do not no skill in acting. We had Matthews, Liston and Emery, of course, some amusement.

Our friends were off before half-past eight this morning, and had the prospect of a heavy cold journey before them. I think they both liked their visit very much. I am sure Fanny did. Henry sees decided attachment between her and his new acquaintance. I have a cold, too, as well as my mother and Martha. Let it be a generous emulation. between us, which can get rid of it first. I wear my gauze gown today, long sleeves and all. I shall see how they succeed, but as yet I have no reason to suppose long sleeves are allowable.

I have lowered the bosom, especially at the corners, and plaited black satin ribbon round the top. Such will be my costume of vine leaves and paste. Prepare for a play the very first evening. I rather think Covent Garden, to see Young and Dries. Richard. I have answered for your little companions being conveyed to Keppel Street immediately. I have never yet been able to get there myself, but I hope I shall soon. What cruel weather this is! And here is Lord Portsmouth married, too, to Miss Hanson.

Henry has finished Mansfield Park, and his approbation has not lessened. He found the last half of the last volume extremely interesting. I suppose my mother recollects. that she gave me no money for paying brecknell entwining, and my funds will not supply enough. We are home in such good time that I can finish my letter tonight, which will be better than getting up to do it to-morrow, especially as, on account of my cold, which has been very heavy in my head this evening, I rather think of lying in bed later than usual. I would not but be well enough to go to Hartford Street on any account. We met only General Chown today, who is not much to safer himself. I was ready to laugh at the remembrance of Frederick, and such a different

Frederick as we chose to fancy him, to the real Christopher. Mrs. Tilsen had long sleeves, too, and she assured me that they are worn the evening by many. I was glad to hear this. She dines here, I believe, next Tuesday. On Friday we are to be snug with only Mr. Barlow and an evening of business. I am so pleased that the mead is brewed. Love to all. I have to be able to be. I have to be able to written to Mrs. Hill and care for nobody. Yours affectionately, Jay Austin. Letter 55 Chorton, Tuesday, June 13th.

My dearest Cassandra. Fanny takes my mother to Alton this morning, which gives me an opportunity of sending you a few lines without any other trouble than that of writing them. This is a delightful day in the country, and I hope not much too hot for town. Well, you had a good journey, I trust, and all that, and not rain enough to spoil your bonnet. It appeared so likely to be a wet evening that I went up to the great house between three and four,

and dawdled away an hour very comfortably, though Edward was not very brisk. The air was clearer in the evening, and he was better. We all five walked together into the kitchen garden and along the Gosport Road, and they drank tea with us. You'll be glad to hear that G. Turner has another situation, something in the cow line, near Rumsey, and he wishes to move immediately, which is not likely to be inconvenient to anybody. The new nurseryman at Alton comes this morning to value the crops in the garden. The only letter today is from Mrs. Cook to me. They do not leave home till July, and want me to come to them, according to my promise. And, after considering everything,

I have resolved on going. My companions promote it. I will not go, however, till after Edward is gone, that he may feel he has a somebody to give memorandums to at the last. I must give up all help from his carriage, of course. And at any rate, it must be such an excessive expense that I have quite made up my mind to it, and do not mean to care. I have been thinking of Triggs and the chair you may be sure,

but I know it will end in posting. They will meet me at Guildford. In addition to their standing claims on me, they admire Mansfield Park exceedingly. Mr. Cook says, it is the most sensible novel he ever read, and the manner in which I treat the clergy delights them very much. Altogether I must go, and I want you to join me there when your visit in Henrietta Street is over. Put this into your capacious head.

Take care of yourself, and do not be trampled to death in running after the Emperor. The report in Alton yesterday was that they would certainly travel this road either to or from Portsmouth. I long to know what this bow of the princes will produce. I saw Mrs. Andrews yesterday. Mrs. Browning had seen her before. She is very glad to send in Elizabeth. Miss Ben continues the same. Mr. Curtis, however, saw he yesterday, and said her hand was going on as well as possible. Except our best love. Yours very affectionately. J. Austin. Letter 56. Thursday, June 23rd. Dear Cassandra, I received your pretty letter while the children were drinking tea with us,

as Mr. Louch was so obliging as to walk over with it. Your good account of everybody made us very happy. I heard yesterday from Frank. When he began his letter he hoped to be here on Monday, but before it was ended, he had been told that the Naval Review would not take place till Friday. which would probably occasion him some delay, as he cannot get some necessary business of his own attended to while Portsmouth is in such a bustle. I hope Fanny has seen the Emperor, and then I may fairly wish them all away.

I go to-morrow, and hope for some delays and adventures. My mother's wood is brought in, but by some mistake, no Bavins. She must therefore buy some. Henry at Whites! Oh, what a Henry! I do not know what to wish as to Miss B, so I will hold my tongue and my wishes. Sacri and the children set off yesterday, and have not been returned back upon us.

They were all very well the evening before. We had handsome presents from the great house yesterday, a ham and the four leeches. Sacri has left some shirts of her masters at the school, which, finished or unfinished, she begs to have sent by Henry and William. Mr. Hinton is expected home soon, which is a good thing. for the shirts. We have called upon Miss Dunsatoy and Miss Pepillon and been very pretty. Miss Dee has a great idea of being Fanny Price, she and her youngest sister together, who is named Fanny. Miss Ben has drank tea with the Proutings, and I believe comes to us this evening. She has

still a swelling about the forefinger, and a little discharge, and has not seemed to be on the point of a perfect cure, but her spirits are good, and she will be most happy, I believe, to accept any invitation. The clements are gone to Petersfield to look. Only think of the Marquis of Granby being dead. I hope, if it please heaven there should be another son, they will have better sponsors and less parade. I certainly do not wish that Henry should think again of getting me to town. I would rather return straight from Bookham. But if he really does propose it, I cannot say no to what will be so kindly intended. It could be but for a few days, however, as my mother would be quite disappointed by my exceeding the fortnight, which I now talk of as

the outside. At least we could not both remain longer away comfortably. The middle of July is Martha's time, as far as she has any time. She is left it to Mrs. Craven to fix the day. I wish she could get her money paid, for I fear her going at all depends upon that. Instead of Bath, the Dean's Dundices have taken a house at Clifton, Richmond Terrace, and she is as glad of the change as even you and I should be, or almost. She will now be able to go on from Berkshire and visit them without any fears from heat. This post has brought me a letter from Miss Sharp. Poor thing.

She has been suffering indeed, but is now in a comparative state of comfort. She is at Sir WPs in Yorkshire with the children, and there is no appearance of her quitting them. Of course we lose the pleasure of seeing her here. She writes highly of Sir William. I do so want him to marry her. There is a doward of Lady P presiding there to make it all right. The man is the same, but she does not mention what he is by profession or trade. She does not think Lady P was privy to his scheme on her, but on being in his power, yielded.

Oh, Sir William, Sir William, how I will love you if you will love Miss Sharp. Mrs. Driver, etc., are off by Collier, but so near being too late that she, She had not time to call and leave the keys herself. I have them, however. I suppose one is the key of the linen press, but I do not know what to guess the other. The coach was stopped at the blacksmiths, and they came running down with trigs and browning and trunks and bird cages. Quite amusing. My mother desires her love, and hopes to hear from you. Yours very affectionately, J. Austin. Frank and Mary are to have Mary good child to help is under till they can get a cook. She is delighted to go.

Best love at Streatham. End of Section 24. Section 25 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain. Letter 57 23 Hands Place Tuesday morning, August 1814. My dear Cassandra.

I had a very good journey, not crowded, two of the three taken up at Bentley being children, the others of a reasonable size, and they were all very quiet and civil. We were late in London, from being a great load, and from changing coaches at Farnham. It was nearly four, I believe,

when we reached Sloan Street. Henry himself met me, and as soon as my trunk and basket could be routed out from all the other trunks and baskets in the world, we were on our waiter-hands place, in the luxury of a nice, large, cool, dirty, There were four in the kitchen part of Yaldon, and I was told fifteen at top, among them Percy Ben. We met in the same room at Egham, but poor Percy was not in his usual spirits.

He would be more chatty, I dare say, in his way from Woolwich. We took up a young Gibson at Holobon, and in short, everybody either did come up by Yaldon yesterday, or wanted to come up. It put me in mind of my own coach between Edinburgh and Stirling. Henry is very well, and has given me an account of the Canterbury races, which seemed to have been as pleasant as one could wish. Everything went well. Fanny had good partners. Mr. Blank was her second on Thursday, but he did not dance with her anymore.

This will content you for the present. I must just add, however, that there were no Lady Charlott's, they were gone off to Kirby, and that Mary Oxenden, instead of dying, is going to marry William Hammond. No James and Edward yet. Our evening yesterday was perfectly quiet. We only talked a little to Mr. Tilsen across the intermediate gardens. She was gone out airing with Miss Burdett. It is a delightful place, more than answers my expectation. Having got rid of my unreasonable ideas, I find more space and comfort in the rooms than I had supposed, and the garden is quite a love. I am in the front attic, which is the bedchamber to be preferred. Henry wants you to see it all, and asked whether you would return with him from Hampshire. I encouraged him to think you would. He breakfasts here early, and then rides to Henrietta Street, if it continues fine. John is to drive me there by and by, and we shall take an airing together, and I do not mean to take any other exercise, for I feel a little tired after my long jumble.

I live in his room downstairs. It is particularly pleasant from opening upon the garden. I go and refresh myself every now and then, and then come back to solitary coolness. There is one maid-servant only, a very creditable, clean-looking young woman. Richard remains for the present. Wednesday morning. My brother and Edward arrived last night. They could not get places the day before. Their business is about teeth and wigs, and they are going off to breakfast to Skarmans and Tavistock Street,

and they are to return to go with me afterwards in the Baruch. I hope to do some of my errands today. I got the willow yesterday, as Henry was not quite ready when I reached Henner Street. I saw Mr. Hampson there for a moment. He dines here tomorrow, and proposed bringing his son. So I must submit to seeing George Hampson, though I had hoped to go through life without it. It was one of my vanities, like you're not reading patronage. After leaving 8th Street, we drove to Mrs. Latush's.

They are always at home, and they are to dine here on Friday. We could do no more, as it began to rain. We dine at half-past four today, that our visitors may go to the play, and Henry and I are to spend the evening with the Tilson's to meet Miss Burnett, who leaves town tomorrow. Mrs. T. called on me yesterday. Is not this all that can have happened or been arranged? Not quite. Henry wants me to see more of his Hanwell favourite, and has written to invite her to spend a day or two here with me. His scheme is to fetch her on Saturday. I am more and more convinced that he will marry again soon, and like the idea of her, better than of anybody else at hand.

Now I have breakfasted, and have the room to myself again. It is likely to be a fine day. How do you all do? Henry talks of being at Chorton about the 1st of September. He has once mentioned a scheme which I should rather like, calling on the birches and the crutchlies in our way. It may never come to anything, but I must provide for the possibility by troubling you to send by Silk Police by Collier on Sunday. I feel it would be necessary on such an occasion,

and be so good as to put up a clean dressing-gown, which will come from the wash on Friday. You need not direct it to be left anywhere. It may take it. its chance. We are to call for Henry between three and four, and I must finish this and carry it with me, as he is not always there in the morning before the parcel is made up, and before I set off, I must return Mrs. Tilsen's visit.

I hear nothing of the hoblins, and abstain from all inquiry. I hope Mary Jane and Frank's gardens go on well. Give my love to them all. None a hat's love to George. A great many people wanted to run up. up in the poach as well as me. The weed looked very well all the way, and James says the same of his road. The same good account of Mrs. C's health continues, and her circumstances mend. She gets farther and farther from poverty. What a comfort. Goodbye to you. Yours very truly and affectionately,

Jane. All well at Steventon. I hear nothing particular of Ben, except that Edward is to get him and pencils. Letter 58. My dear Anna, I am very much obliged to you for sending your manuscript. It has entertained me extremely. Indeed, all of us. I read it aloud to your grandmamma and Aunt Cass, and we were very much pleased. The spirit does not droop at all. Sir Thomas, Lady Halland and St. Julian are very well done, and Cecilia continues to be interesting, in spite of her being so amiable. It is very fit you should advance her age. I like the beginning of Devereaux Foster very much, a great deal better than if he had been very good or very bad. A few verbal corrections are all that I felt tempted to make.

The principle of them is a speech of St. Julian to Lady Helen, which you see I have presumed to alter. As Lady H. is Cecilia's superior, it would not be correct to talk of her being introduced. It is Cecilia who must be introduced. And I do not like a lover speaking in the third person. It is too much like the part of Lord overtly, and I think it not natural. If you think differently, however, you need not mind me. I am impatient for more, and only wait for a safe conveyance to return this. Yours affectionately, J.A. Letter 59

August 10, 1814. My dear Anna I am quite ashamed. to find that I have never answered some question of yours in a former note. I kept it on purpose to refer to it at a proper time, and then forgot it. I like the name, which is the heroine, very well, and I dare say it shall go to like it very much in time, but enthusiasm was something so very superior that my common title must appear to disadvantage. I am not sensible of any blunders about Doolish. The library was pitiful and wretched twelve years ago, and not likely to have

anybody's publications. There is no such title as Despera, either among dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, or barons. These were your inquiries. I will now thank you for your envelope received this morning. Your aunt Cass is as well pleased with St. Julian as ever, and I am delighted with the idea of seeing Prigilian again. Wednesday, 17th. We have now just finished the first of the three books I had the pleasure of receiving yesterday. I read it aloud. And we were all very much amused, and I like the work quite as well as ever. I depend on getting through another book before dinner, but there is really a good deal of respectable reading in your 48 pages.

I have no doubt six would make a very good-sized volume. You must have been quite pleased to have accomplished so much. I like Lord Portman and his brother very much. I am only afraid that Lord P's good nature will make most people like him better than he deserves. The whole family are very good. And Lady Anne, who is your great dread, you have succeeded particularly well with. Belle Griffin is just what she should be. My corrections have not been more important than before.

Here and there we have thought the sense could be expressed in fewer words, and have scratched out Sir Thomas from walking with the others to the stables, etc., the very day after breaking his arm. For though I find your papa did walk out immediately after his arm was set, I think it can be so little usual as to appear unnatural in a book. Lynn will not do. Lynn is forty miles from Dawlish, and would not be talked of there. I have put Starcross instead.

If you prefer Easton, that must always be safe. I have also scratched out the introduction between Lord Portman and his brother and Mr. Griffin. A country surgeon, don't tell Mr. C. Leiford, would not be introduced to men of their rank. And when Mr. P is first brought in, he would not be introduced as the Honourable. That distinction is never mentioned at such times. At least I believe not. Now we have finished the second book, or rather the fifth. I do think you'd better admit Lady Helen's post-script.

To those that are acquainted with pride and prejudice, it will seem an imitation. And your aunt C. and I both recommend you're making a little alteration in the last scene between Devereaux F and Lady Clan Murray and her daughter. We think they press him too much, more than sensible or well-bred women would do. Lady C at least should have discretion enough to be sooner satisfied with his determination of not going with them. I am very much pleased with Egerton as yet. I did not expect to like him, but I do. And Susan is a very nice little animated creature. But St. Julian is the delight of our lives.

He is quite interesting. The whole of his break-off with Lady Helena is very well done. Yes, Russell Square is a very proper distance from Berkeley Square. We are reading the last book. They must be two days going from Dourlish to Bath. They are nearly 100 miles apart. Thursday. We finished it last night after our return from drinking tea at the Great House.

The last chapter does not please us quite so well. We do not thoroughly like the play, perhaps from having had too much of plays in that way lately. V-Day, Mansfield Park. And we think you'd better not leave England. Let the portmins go to you. to Ireland, but as you know nothing of the manners there, you had better not go with them. You'll be in danger of giving false representations.

Stick to Bath and the foresters. There you'll be quite at home. Your aunt's seed is not like desultory novels, and is rather afraid yours will be too much so, that there will be too frequently a change from one side of people to another, and that circumstances will be introduced of apparent consequence, which will lead to nothing. It will not be so great an objection to me if it does. I allow much more latitude than she does, and think nature and spirit cover many sins of a wandering story, and people in general do not care so much about it for your comfort.

I should like to have had more of Devereaux. I do not feel acquainted enough with him. You were afraid of meddling with him, I dare say. I like your sketch of Lord Clan Murray, and your picture of the two young girls' enjoyment is very good. I have not noticed St. Julian's serious conversation with Cecilia, but I like it exceedingly. What he says about the madness of otherwise sensible women on the subject of their daughters coming out is worth its weight in gold. I do not perceive that the language sinks.

Pray, go on. And of Section 25. Section 26 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 60. Chorton, September 9th My dear Anna We have been very much amused by your three books,

but I have a good many criticisms to make, more than you will like. We are not satisfied with Mrs. Forrester settling herself as tenant and near neighbour to such a man as Sir Thomas, without having some other inducement to go there. She ought to have some friend living thereabouts to tempt her. A woman going with two girls just growing up into

a neighborhood, where she knows nobody but one man of not very good character, is an awkwardness, which so prudent a woman as Mrs. F. would not be likely to fall into. Remember, she is very prudent. You must not let her act so inconsistently. Give her a friend, and let that friend be invited by Sir Thomas H. to meet her, and we shall have no objection to her dining at the priory as she does. But otherwise a woman in her situation would hardly go there before she's been visited by other families. I like the scene itself, the Miss Leslie, Lady Anne, and the music very much. Leslie is a noble name. Sir Thomas H. You always do very well. I have only taken the liberty of expunging one phrase of his, which would not be allowable.

Bless my heart. It is too familiar and inelegant. Your grandmother is more disturbed at Mrs. Forrester's not returning the Egerton's visit soon. than by anything else. They ought to have called at the parsonage before Sunday. You describe a sweet place, but your descriptions are often more minute than will be liked. You give too many particulars of right hand and left. Mrs. Forrester is not careful enough of Susan's health. Susan ought not to be walking out so soon after heavy rains, taking long walks in the dirt. An anxious mother would not suffer it. I like your Susan very much. She is a sweet creature, her playfulness of fantasy is very delightful. I like her as she is now exceedingly,

but I am not quite so well satisfied with her behaviour to George R. At first she seems all over attachment and feeling, and afterwards to have none at all. She is so extremely confused at the ball, and so well satisfied apparently with Mr. Morgan. She seems to have changed her character. You are now collecting your people delightfully, getting them exactly into such a spot as is the delight of my life. Three or four families in a country village is the very thing to work on, and I hope you will do a great deal more, and make full use of them while they are so very favourably arranged. You are but now coming to the heart and beauty of your story. Until the heroine grows up, the fun must be imperfect, but I expect a great deal of entertainment from the next

three or four books, and I hope you will not resent these remarks by sending me no more. We like the Egerton's very well. We see no blue pantaloons or cocks or hens. There is nothing to enchant one certainly in Mr. L. L., but we make no objection to him, and his inclination to like Susan is pleasing. The sister is a good contrast, but the name of Rachel is as much as I can bear. They are not so much like the papillon's as I expected. Your last chapter is very entertaining, the conversation on genius, etc. Mr. St. Julian. and Susan both talk in character, and very well. In some former parts, Cecilia is perhaps a little too solemn and good, but upon the whole her disposition is very well opposed to Susan's.

Her want of imagination is very natural. I wish you could make Mrs. Forrest a talk more, but she must be difficult to manage and make entertaining, because there is so much good sense and propriety about her that nothing can be made very broad. Her economy and her ambition must not be staring. The papers left by Mrs. Fisher are very good. Of course one guesses something. I hope when you have written a great deal more, you'll be equal to scratching out some of the past. The scene with Mrs. Mellish, I should condemn, it is prosy and nothing to the purpose, and indeed the more you can find in your heart to curtail between Dawlish and Newton Priors, the better I think it will be. One does not care for girls until they are grown up.

Your aunt C. quite understands the exquisiteness of that name. Newton Pryor's is really a non-Parel. Milton would have given his eyes to have thought of it. Is not the cottage taken from Tollard Royal? Thus far, the letter was written on the ninth, but before it was finished, news arrived at Chawton of the death of Mrs. Charles Austin. She died in her confinement, and the baby died also. She left three little girls, Cassie, Harriet, and her.

Fanny. It was not until the 18th that Jane resumed her letter as follows. Sunday. I am very glad, dear Anna, that I wrote as I did, before this sad event occurred. I have only to add that your grandmamma does not seem the worse now for the shock. I shall be very happy to receive more of your work if more is ready, and you write so fast that I have great hopes Mr. Deguweed will come back freighted with such a cargo as not all his hops or his sheep could equal the value of. Your grandma desires me to say that she will have finished your shoes tomorrow, and thinks they will look very well, and that she depends upon seeing you, as you promise, before you quit the country, and hopes you will give her more than a day.

Yours affectionately, J. Austin. Letter 61 Chorton, Wednesday, September 28th. My dear Anna I hope you do not depend on having your book again immediately. I kept it that your grandmamma may hear it, for it has not been possible yet to have any public reading. I have read it to your Aunt Cassandra, however, in our own room at night, while we undressed, and with a great deal of pleasure.

We like the first chapter extremely, with only a little doubt whether Lady Helena is not almost too foolish. The matrimonial dialogue is very good. certainly. I like Susan as well as ever, and begin now not to care at all about Cecilia. She may stay at Eastern Court as long as she likes. Henry Mellish will, I am afraid, be too much in the common novel style, a handsome, amiable, unexceptional young man, such as do not much abound in real life, desperately in love and all in vain. But I have no business to judge him so early. Jane Egerton is a very natural, comprehensible girl,

and the whole of her acquaintance with Susan and Susan's letter to Cecilia are very pleasing and quite in character. But Miss Egerton does not entirely satisfy us. She is too formal and solemn, we think, in her advice to her brother not to fall in love, and it is hardly like a sensible woman. It is putting it into his head. We should like a few hints from her better.

We feel really obliged to you for introducing, a lady Kenrick, it will remove the greatest fault in the work, and I give you credit for considerable forbearance as an author in adopting so much of our opinion. I expect high fun about Mrs. Fisher and Sir Thomas. You've been perfectly right in telling Ben Lafroy of your work, and I am very glad to hear how much he likes it. His encouragement and approbation must be quite beyond everything. I do not at all wonder it is not expecting to like anybody so well as Cecilia at first, but I shall be surprised if he does not become a Susanite in time. Devereaux Foster's being ruined by his vanity is extremely good, but I wish you would not let him plunge into a vortex of dissipation. I do not object to the

thing, but I cannot bear the expression. It is such a thorough novel slang, and so old that I dare say Adam met with it in the first novel he opened. Indeed, I did very much like to know Ben's opinion. I hope you will continue to be pleased with it, and I think he must, but I cannot flatter him with there being much incident. We have no great right to wonder it is not valuing the name of Prigillion. That is a source of delight which even he can hardly be quite competent to. Walter Scott has no business to write novels, especially good ones. It is not fair. He has fame and profit enough as a poet, and should not be taking the bread out of the mouths of other people. I do not like him, and I do not mean to like Waverly if I can help it, but fear I must.

I am quite determined, however, not to be pleased with Mrs. West's Alicia Delacey, should I ever meet with it, which I hope I shall not. I think I can be stout against anything written by Mrs. West. I've made up my mind to like no novels really, but Miss Edgeworth's. yours, and my own. What can you do with Egerton to increase the interest for him? I wish you could contrive something, some family occurrence to bring out his good qualities more, some distress among brothers and sisters to relieve by the sale of his curacy. Something to carry him mysteriously away, and then be heard of at York or Edinburgh in an old greatcoat. I would not seriously recommend anything improbable, but if you could invent something spirited for him.

him, it would have a good effect. He might lend all his money to Captain Morris, but then he would be a great fool if he did. Cannot the Morris's quarrel, and he reconcile them? Excuse the liberty I take in these suggestions. Your Aunt Frank's nursemaid has just given her warning, but whether she is worth your having, or would take your place, I know not. She was Mrs. Webb's maid before she went to the great house. She leaves your aunt because she can not agree with the other servants. She is in love with the man, and her head seems rather turned. He returns her affection, but she fancies everyone else's wanting him and envying her. Her previous service must have fitted her for such place as yours, and she is very active and cleanly.

The webs are really gone. When I saw the wagons at the door, and thought of all the trouble they must have in moving, I began to reproach myself and not having liked them better. but since the wagons have disappeared my conscience has been closed again and i am excessively glad they are gone i am very fond of sherlock's sermons and prefer them to almost any your affectionate aunt j austin if you wish me to speak to the maid let me know end of section twenty six section twenty seven of the letters of jane austen this librovoc's recording is in the public domain Letter 62 To Miss Francis Austin Chorton Friday, November 18, 1814 I feel quite as doubtful as you could be, my dearest Fanny, as to when my letter may be finished,

for I can command very little quiet time at present. But yet I must begin, for I know you'll be glad to hear as soon as possible, and I really am impatient myself to be writing something on so very interesting a subject, though I have no hope of writing anything to the purpose. I shall do very little more, I dare say, then say over again what you have said before. I was certainly a good deal surprised at first, as I had no suspicion of any change in your feelings,

and I have no scruple in saying that you cannot be in love. My dear Fanny, I am ready to laugh at the idea, and yet it is no laughing matter to have had you so mistaken as to your own feelings. And with all my heart, I wish I had cautioned you on that point when first you spoke to me. But though I did not think you then much in love, I did consider you as being attached in a degree quite sufficiently for happiness, as I had no doubt it would increase with opportunity, and from the time of our being in London together, I thought you really very much in love.

But you certainly are not at all. There is no conceding it. What strange creatures we are. It seems as if your being secure of him had made you indifferent. There was a little disgust, I suspect, at the races, and I do not wonder at it. His expressions then would not do for one who had rather more acuteness, penetration and taste than love, which was your case. And yet, after all, I am surprised that the change in your feeling should be so great. He is just what he ever was, only more evidently and uniformly devoted to you.

This is all the difference. How shall we account for it? My dearest Fanny, I am writing what will not be of the smallest use to you. I am feeling differently every moment, and shall not be able to suggest a single thing that can assist your mind. I could lament in one sentence and laugh in the next, but as to opinion or counsel, I am sure that none will be exacted worth having from this letter.

I read yours through the very evening I received it, getting away by myself. I could not bear to leave off when I had once begun. I was full of curiosity and concern. Luckily, your aunt C. dined at the other house. Therefore, I had not to manoeuvre away from her. And as to anybody else, I do not care. Poor dear, Mr. A. Oh, dear Fanny.

Your mistake has been one that thousands of women fall. into. He was the first young man who attached himself to you. That was the charm, and most powerful it is. Among the multitudes, however, that make the same mistake with yourself, there can be few indeed who have so little reason to regret it. His character and his attachment leave you nothing to be ashamed of. Upon the whole, what is to be done? You have no inclination for any other person. His situation in life, family, friends, and above all his character, his uncommonly amiable mind, strict principles, just notions, good habits, all that you know so well how to value. All that is really of the first importance. Everything of this nature pleads his

cause most strongly. You have no doubt of his having superior abilities. He has proved it at the university. He is, I dare say, such a scholar as your agreeable idle brothers would ill bear a comparison with. Oh, my dear Fanny, the more I write about him, the warmer my feelings become. The more strongly I feel the sterling worth of such a young man, and the desirableness of your growing in love with him again. I recommend this most thoroughly. There are such beings in the world, perhaps one in a thousand, as the creature you and I should think perfection, where grace and spirit are united to worth, with a man as so equal to the heart and understanding. But such a person may not come in your way, or if he does, he may not be the eldest son of a man

of fortune, the near relation of your particular friend, and belonging to your own county. Think of all this, Fanny. Mr. A has advantages which we do not often meet in one person. His only fault, indeed, seems modesty. If he were less modest, he would be more agreeable. speak louder and look impuditer, and is not a defined character of which modesty is the only defect? I have no doubt he will get more lively and more like yourselves, as he is more with you. He will catch your ways if he belongs to you. And as to there being any objection from his goodness, from the danger of his becoming even evangelical, I cannot admit that.

I am by no means convinced that we ought not all to be evangelicals, and have at least persuaded that they who are so from reason and feeling must be happiest and safest. Do not be frightened from the connection by your brothers having most wit. Wisdom is better than wit, and in the long run will certainly have the laugh on her side. And don't be frightened by the idea of his acting more strictly up to the precept of the New Testament than others. And now, my dear Fanny, having written so much on one side of the question, I shall turn round and entreat you not to commit yourself farther, and not to think of accepting him unless you really do like him. Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without affection,

and if his deficiencies of manner, etc., etc., strike you more than all his good qualities. If you continue to think strongly of him, give him up at once. Things are now in such a state that you must resolve upon one or the other, either to allow him to go on as he is done, or whenever you are together, behave with the coldness, which may convince him that he has been deceiving himself. I have no doubt if his suffering a good deal for a time, a great deal when he feels that he must give you up.

But it is no creed of mine, as you must be well aware, that such sort of disappointments kill anybody. Your sending the music was an admirable device. It made everything easy, and I do not know how I could have counted for the parcel otherwise, for though your dear papa most conscientiously hunted about till he found me alone in the dining parlour, your aunt C. had seen that he had a parcel to deliver. As it was, however, I do not think anything was suspected.

We have heard nothing fresh from Anna. I trust she is very comfortable in her new home. Her letters have been very sensible and satisfactory, with no parade of happiness, which I liked them the better for. I have often known young married women right in a way I did not like in that respect. You'll be glad to hear that the first edition of Mansfield Park is all sold. Your uncle Henry is rather wanting me to come to town to settle about a second edition, but as I could not very conveniently leave home now, I've written him my will and pleasure, and unless he still urges it, shall not go.

I am very greedy, and want to make the most of it. But as you are much above caring about money, I shall not plague you with any particulars. The pleasures of vanity are more within your comprehensive. and you will enter into mine at receiving the praise which every now and then comes to me, through some channel or other. Saturday Mr Palmer spent yesterday with us, and has gone off with Cassie this morning.

We've been expecting Miss Lloyd the last two days, and feel sure of her today. Mr. Knight and Mr. Edward Knight are to dine with us, and on Monday they are to dine with us again, accompanied by their respectable host and hostess. Sunday. Your papa had given me messages to you, but as they are unnecessary, as he writes by this post to Aunt Louisa. We had a pleasant party yesterday, at least we found it so. It is delightful to see him so cheerful and confident. Aunt Cass and I dine at the great house today. We shall be a snug half-dozen. Miss Lloyd came as we expected yesterday, and desires her love. She is very happy to hear of your learning the harp. I do not mean to send you what I owe Miss Hare because I think you would rather not be paid beforehand. Yours very affectionately, Jane Austen. Letter 63 Chorton, November 21, 1814.

My dear Anna, I met Harriet Ben yesterday. She gave me her congratulations, and desired they might be forwarded to you, and there they are. The chief news from this country is the death of old Mrs. dormer. Mrs. Clement walks about in a new black velvet police lined with yellow and a white bobbin net veil, and looks remarkably well in them. I think I understand the country about Hendon of your description. It must be very pretty in summer. Should you know from the atmosphere that you were within a dozen miles of London? Make everybody attend and admire Mansfield Park. Your affectionate aunt, J.A. Letter 64

Hans Place, November 28, 1814. My dear Anna, I assure you, we all came away very much pleased with your visit. We talked of you for about a mile and a half with great satisfaction, and I had been just sending a very good report of you to Miss Ben, with a full account of your dress for Susan and Mariah. We were all at the play last night to see Miss O'Neill and Isabella. I do not think she was quite equal to my expectations. I fancy I want something more than can be.

I took two pocket-handkerchiefs, but had very little occasion for either. She is an elegant creature, however, and hugs Mr. Young delightfully. I am going this morning to see the little girls in Keppel Street. Cassie was excessively interested about your marriage when she heard of it, which was not until she was to drink your health on the wedding day. She asked a thousand questions, in her usual manner, what he said to you and what you said to him. If your uncle were at home, he would send his best love,

but I will not impose any base fictitious remembrances on you. Mine I can honestly give. And remain your affectionate aunt, J. Austin. Letter 65 Hans Place Wednesday My dear Anna I have been very far from finding your book in evil, I assure you. I read it immediately and with great pleasure.

I think you are going on very well. The description of Dr. Griffin and Lady Helena's Unhappiness is very good, and just what was likely to be. I am curious to know what the end of them will be. The name of Newton Priors is really invaluable. I never met with anything superior to it. It is delightful, and one could live on the name of Newton Priors for a twelve-month. Indeed, I think you get on very fast. I only wish other people of my acquaintance could compose as rapidly.

I am pleased with the dog scene, and with the whole of George and Susan's love, but am more particularly struck with your serious conversations. They are very good throughout. St. Julian's history was quite a surprise to me. You had not very long known it yourself, I suspect, but I have no objection to make to the circumstance, and it is very well told. His having been in love with the aunt gives Cecilia an additional interest with him.

I like the idea, a very proper compliment to an aunt. I rather imagine indeed that nieces are seldom chosen, but out of compliment to some aunt or other. I dare say Ben was in love with me once, and would never have thought of you, if he had not supposed me dead of scarlet fever. Yes, I was in a mistake as to the number of books. I thought I had read three before the three at Chaucer,

but fewer than six will not do. I want to see dear Belle Griffin again, and had you not better give some hint of St. Julian's early history in the beginning of the story? We shall see nothing of Stretton while we are in town, as Mrs. Hill is to lie in of a daughter. Mrs. Blackstone is to be with her. Mrs. Heathcote and Miss Big are just leaving.

The latter writes me word that Miss Blackford is married, but I have never seen it in the papers, and one may as well be single if the wedding is not to be in print. Your affectionate aunt, J.A. And of Section 27. Section 28 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Letter 66.

23 Hands Place. Wednesday, November 30, 1814. I am very much obliged to you, my dear Fanny Fiorna. your letter, and I hope you'll write again soon, that I may know you to be all safe and happy at home. Our visit to Hendon will interest you, I am sure, but I need not enter into the particulars of it, as your papa will be able to answer almost every question. I certainly could describe her bedroom and her drawers and her closet better than he can, but I do not feel that I can stop to do it. I was rather sorry to hear that she is to have an instrument. It seems that

throwing money away. They will wish the twenty-four guineas in the shape of sheets and towels six months hence, and as to her playing, it never can be anything. Her purple police rather surprised me. I thought we had known all paraphernalia of that sort. I do not mean to blame her. It looked very well, and I dare say she wanted it. I suspect nothing worse than it's being got in secret, and not owned to anybody. I received a very kind of a very kind of a very kind of a a note from her yesterday to ask me to come again and stay a night with them I cannot do it but I was pleased to find that she had the power of doing so right a thing my going was to give them both pleasure very properly I just saw mr. Hater at the play and I think his face would please me on acquaintance I was sorry he did not dine here it seemed rather odd to me to be in the theatre with nobody to watch for I was quite composed myself at leisure for all the agitated Isabella could raise. Now, my dearest Fanny, I will begin a subject which comes in very naturally.

You frightened me out of my wits by your reference. Your affection gives me the highest pleasure. But indeed, you must not let anything depend on my opinion. Your own feelings, and nothing but your own, should determine such an important point. So far, however, is answering your question. I have no scruple. I am perfectly convinced that. at your present feelings, supposing that you were to marry now, would be sufficient for his

happiness. But when I think how very far it is from a now, and take everything that may be into consideration, I dare not say, determined to accept him. The risk is too great for you, unless your own sentiments prompt it. You will think me perverse, perhaps. In my last letter I was urging everything in his favour, and now I am. inclining the other way. But I cannot help it. I am at present more impressed with the possible evil that may arise to you from engaging yourself to him, in word or mind, than with anything else. When I consider how few young men you have yet seen much of, how capable you are—yes, I do still think you very capable, of being really in love, and how full

of temptation the next six or seven years of your life will probably be—it is that the very period of life the strongest attachments to be formed. I cannot wish you, with your present very cool feelings, to devote yourself in honour to him. It is very true that you may never attach another man his equal altogether, but if that other man has the power of attaching you more, he will be in your eyes the most perfect. I shall be glad if you can revive past feelings, and from your unbiased self resolved to go on as you have done. But this I do not expect. And without it I cannot wish you to be fettered. I should not be afraid of your marrying him. With all his worth you would soon love him enough for the happiness of both. But I should dread the continuance of this sort of tacit engagement, with such an uncertainty as there is of when it may be completed. Years may pass before he is independent. You like him well enough to marry, but not well enough to wait. The unpleasantness of a appearing fickle is certainly great, but if you think you want punishment for past illusions,

there it is, and nothing can be compared to the misery of being bound without love, bound to one, and preferring another. That is a punishment which you do not deserve. I know you did not meet, or rather will not meet, today, as he called here himself, yesterday, and I am glad of it. It does not seem very likely, at least, that he should be in time for a dinner visit sixty miles off. We did not see him, only found his card when we came home at four. Your Uncle H merely observed that he was a day after the fair. We asked your brother on Monday, when Mr. Hater was talked of, why he did not invite him to, saying, I know he is in town, for I met him the other day in Bond Street. Edward answered that he did not know

where he was to be found. Don't you know his chambers? No. I shall be most glad to hear from you again, my dearest Fanny, but it must not be later than Saturday, as we shall be off on Monday long before the letters are delivered, and write something that may do to be read or told. I am to take the Miss Moors back on Saturday, and when I return I shall hope to find your pleasant little flowing scrawl on the table. It will be a relief to me after playing at Moms, for though I like Miss H. M. as much as one can at my time of life after a day's acquaintance, it is uphill work to be talking to those whom one knows so little. Only one comes back with me to-morrow, probably Miss Eliza, and I rather

dread it. We shall not have two ideas in common. She is young, pretty, chattering, and thinking chiefly, I presume, of dress, company, and admiration. Mr. Sanford is to join us at dinner, which will be a comfort, and in the evening, while your uncle and Miss Eliza play chess, he shall tell me comical things, and I will laugh at them, which will be a pleasure to both. I called in Keppel Street and saw them all, including dear Uncle Charles, who is to come and dine with us quietly to-day. Little Harriet sat in my lap, and seemed as gentle and affectionate as ever, and as pretty, except not being quite well. Fanny is a fine, stout girl. talking incessantly, and with an interesting degree of lisp and indistinctness, and very likely

may be the handsomest in time. Cassie did not show more pleasure in seeing me than her sisters, but I expected no better. She does not shine in the tender feelings. She will never be a Miss O'Neill, more in the Mrs. Siddens line. Thank you, but it is not settled yet whether I do hazard a second edition. We are to see Egerton today, when it will probably be a little be determined. People are more ready to borrow and praise than to buy, which I cannot wonder at. But though I like praise as well as anybody, I like what Edward calls pewter, too. I hope he continues careful of his eyes, and finds the good effect of it. I cannot suppose we differ in our ideas of the Christian religion. You have given an excellent description of it. We only

affix a different meaning to the word evangelical. Yours most affectionately, J. Austin. Letter 67. Chorton, Friday, September 29th. My dear Anna, we told Mr. B. Lefroy that if the weather did not prevent us, we should certainly come and see you tomorrow, and bring Cassie, trusting to your being good enough to give her a dinner at about one o'clock, that we might be able to be with you the earlier, and stay the longer. But on giving Cassie her choice between the fair at Alton or Wyatt's, it must be confessed that she has preferred the former, which we trust will not greatly affront you. If it does, you may hope that some little Anne hereafter may revenge the insult by a similar preference of an Alton fair to her cousin Cassie. In the meanwhile, we have determined to put off

our visit to you until Monday, which we hope will be not less convenient. I wish the weather may not resolve and another put-off. I must come to you before Wednesday, if it be possible, for on that day I am going to London for a week or two with your uncle Henry, who is expected here on Sunday. If Monday should appear too dirty for walking, and Mr. LeFroy would be so kind as to come and fetch me, I should be much obliged to him. Cassie might be of the party, and your aunt Cassandra will take another opportunity. Yours very affectionately, my dear Anna. Jay Austin Note by Lord Braborn But before the week or two to which she had limited her visit in Han's place was at an end,

her brother fell ill, and on October 22nd he was in such danger that she wrote to Steventon to summon her father to town. The letter was two days on the road, and reached him on Sunday the 24th. Even then he did not start immediately. In the evening he and his wife rode to Chawton, and it was not until the next day that he and Cassandra arrived in Hans' place. place. The malady from which Henry Austin was suffering was low fever, and he was for some days at death's door. But he rallied soon after his brother and sisters arrived, and recovered so

quickly that the former was able to leave him at the end of the week. The great anxiety and fatigue which Jane underwent at this time was supposed by some of her family to have broken down her health. She was in a very feeble and exhausted condition when the bank in which her brother Henry was a partner broke, and he not only lost all that he possessed, but most of his family were in a very his relations suffered severely also. Jane was well enough to pay several visits with her sister in the summer of 1816, including one to Steventon, the last she ever paid to that home of her childhood. The last note which Mrs. Lafroy had preserved is dated. Letter 68. June 23, 1816. My dear Anna. Cassie desires her best thanks for the book.

She was quite delighted to see it. I do not know when I have seen her so much struck by anybody's kindness as on this occasion. Her sensibility seems to be opening to the perception of great actions. These gloves, having appeared on the piano forte ever since you were here on Friday, we imagine they must be yours. Mrs. Digweed returned yesterday, through all the afternoon's rain, and was, of course, wet through. But in speaking of it, she never once said,

it was beyond everything, which I am sure it must have been. Your mama means to ride to Spine Hill tomorrow to see the Mrs. Halberts, who are both very indifferent. By all accounts, they really are breaking now, not so stout as the old jackass. Your affectionately, J.A. End of Section 28. Section 29 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. letter sixty nine hans place friday november twenty fourth eighteen fifteen my dearest cassandra i have the pleasure of sending you a much better account of my affairs which i know will be a great delight to you i wrote to mr murray yesterday myself and henry wrote at the same time to rowworth before the notes were out of the house i received three sheets and an apology from r we sent the notes however and I had a most civil one in reply from Mr. M. He is so very polite indeed that it is quite

overcoming. The printers have been waiting for paper. The blame is thrown upon the stationer, but he gives his word that I shall have no further cause for dissatisfaction. He has lent us Miss Williams and Scott, and says that any book of his will always be at my service. In short, I am soothed and complimented into tolerable comfort. We had a visit of his it yesterday from Edward Knight, and Mr. Maskell joined him here, and this morning has brought Mr. Maskell's compliments, and two pheasants. We have some hope of Edwards coming to dinner today. He will, if he can, I believe. He is looking extremely well. Tomorrow Mr. Hayden is to dine with us. There is happiness. We really grow so fond of Mr. Hayden

that I do not know what to expect. He and Mr. Tilson and Mr. Phillips made up our circle of wits last night. Fanny played, and he sat and listened, and suggested improvements, till Richard came in to tell him that, the doctor was waiting for him at Captain Blake's. And then he was off with the speed that you can imagine. He never does appear in the least above his profession or out of humour with it, or I should think poor Captain Blake, whoever he is, in a very bad way. I must have misunderstood Hennoon I told him that you were to hear from him today. He read me what he to Edward. Part of it must have amused him. I am sure one part, alas, cannot be very amusing to anybody. I wonder that with such business to worry him he can be getting better. But he certainly

does gain strength, and if you and Edward were to see him now, I feel sure that you would think him improved since Monday. He was out yesterday. It was a fine, sunshiny day here. In the country, perhaps you might have clouds and fogs. Dare I say so? I shall not deceit. I shall not deceit. you if I do, as to my estimation of the climate of London.' And he ventured first on the balcony, and then as far as the greenhouse. He caught no cold, and therefore has done more to-day with great delight and self-persuasion of improvement. He has been to see Mrs. Tilson and the mailings.

By the by, you may talk to Mr. T. of his wife's being better. I saw he yesterday, and was sensible of her having gained ground in the last two days. evening We have had no Edward Our circle is formed Only Mr. Tilsen And Mr. Hayden We are not so happy as we were

A message came this afternoon From Mrs. Latouche and Miss East Offering themselves to drink tea with us tomorrow And as it was accepted Here is an end of our extreme felicity And our dinner guest I am heartily sorry they are coming It will be an evening's

spoiled to Fanny and me. Another little disappointment. Mr. H. advises Henry's not venturing with us in the carriage to-morrow. If it was spring, he says, it would be a different thing. One would rather this had not been. He seems to think he's going out today rather imprudent, though acknowledging at the same time that he is better than he was in the morning. Fanny has had a letter full of commissions from Goodnaston.

We shall be busy about them and her own matters, I dare say, from twelve to four. Nothing I trust will keep us from Keppel Street. This day has brought a most friendly letter from Mr. Fowl with a brace of pheasants. I did not know before that Henry had written to him a few days ago to ask for them. We shall live upon pheasants. No bad life. I send you five one-pound notes, for fear you should be distressed for little money. Lizzie's work is charmingly done. Shall you put it to your chintz? A sheet came in this moment. A sheet came in this moment. moment, first and third volumes are now at one forty-four, second at forty-eight. I am sure you will like particulars. We are not to have the trouble of returning the sheets to Mr. Murray any longer.

The printer's boys bring and carry. I hope Mary continues to get well fast, and I send my loved little Herbert. You will tell me more of Martha's plans, of course, when you write again. Remember me most kindly to everybody, and Miss Ben besides. Yours very affectionately. Austin. I have been listening to dreadful insanity. It is Mr. Hayden's firm belief that a person not musical is fit for every sort of wickedness. I ventured to assert a little on the other side, but wished the cause enabler hands. Letter 70. Hans Place, Sunday, November 26th. My dearest, the parcel arrived safely, and I am much obliged to you for your trouble. It cost two shillings and tenpence, but as there is a certain saving of two shillings and four and a halfpence on the other side, I am sure it is well worth doing. I send four pairs of silk stockings, but I do not want them washed at present. In the three neck-handkerchiefs I include the one sent down before. These things perhaps Edward may be able to bring, but even if he is not, I am extremely pleased with his returning to you from Steventon. It is much better, far preferable.

I did mention the PR in my note to Mr. Murray. It brought me a fine compliment in return. Whether it has done any other good, I do not know, but Henry thought it worth trying. The printers continue to supply me very well. I am advanced in volume three to my arrow-root, upon which peculiar style of spelling there is modest query in the margin. I will not forget Anna's arrow-root. I hope you have told Martha of my first resolution of letting nobody know that I might not might dedicate, etc., for fear of being obliged to do it, and that she is thoroughly convinced of my being influenced now by nothing but the most mercenary motives. I have paid nine shillings on her account to Miss Palmer. There was no more owing.

Well, we were all very busy yesterday, from half-past eleven till four in the streets, working almost entirely for other people, driving from place to place after a parcel for sandling, which we never could find, and encountering the misery. of Grafton House to get a purple frock for Eleanor Bridges. We got to Keppel Street, however, which was all I cared for. And though we could stay only a quarter of an hour, Fanny's calling gave great pleasure, and her sensibility still greater, for she was very much affected at the sight of the children. Poor little F looked heavy. We saw the whole party. Aunt Harriet hopes Cassie will not forget to make a pincushion for Mrs. Kelly, as she has

spoken of its being promised her several times. I hope we shall see Aunt H. And the dear little girls here on Thursday. So much for the morning. Then came the dinner and Mr. Hayden, who brought good manners and clever conversation. From seven to eight the harp, at eight Mrs. Earl and Miss E arrived,

and for the rest of the evening, the drawing-room was thus arranged. On the sofa side the two ladies, Henry and myself making the best of it. On the opposite side, Fanny and Mr. Hayden, in two chairs, I believe at least they had two chairs, talking together uninterruptedly. Fancy the scene. And what is to be fancied next?

Why that Mr. H dines here again tomorrow? Today we are to have Mr. Barlow. Mr. H is reading Mansfield Park for the first time, and he prefers it to pee and pee. A hare and four rabbits from Godmisham yesterday, so that we are stalked for nearly a week. Poor Farmer Andrews. I am very sorry for him, and sincerely wish his recovery. A better account of the sugar than I could have expected. I should like to help you break some all. I am glad you cannot wake early. I am sure you must have been under great arrears of rest. Fanny and I have been to Be Chapel, and walked back with Mariah Cuthbert. We have been very

little plagued with visitors this last week. I remember only Miss Harries, the aunt, but I'm in terror for today, a fine, bright Sunday, plenty of mortar and nothing to do. Henry gets out in his garden every day, but at present his inclination for doing more seems over, nor has he now any plan for leaving London before December 18th, when he thinks of going to Oxford for a few days. In today, indeed, his feelings are for continuing where he is through the next two months. One knows the uncertainty of all this, but should it be so, we must think the best, and and hope the best, and do the best. And my idea in that case is that when he goes to Oxford I should go home, and have nearly a week of you before you take my place. This is only a silent

project, you know, to be gladly given up if better things occur. Henry calls himself stronger every day, and Mr. H keeps on approving his pulse, which seems generally better than ever. But still they will not let him be well. Perhaps when Fanny is gone, he will be allowed to recover faster. I am not disappointed. I never thought the little girl at Wyard's very pretty, but she will have a fine complexion and curly hair, and pass for a beauty. We are glad the Mama's cold has not been worse, and send our love and good wishes by every convenient opportunity. Sweet, amiable Frank, why does he have a cold, too? Like Captain Mervyn to Mr. Duval, I wish it well over with him. Fanny has heard.

all that I have said to you about herself and Mr. H. Thank you very much for the sight of dearest Charles's letter to yourself. How pleasantly and how naturally he writes! And how perfect a picture of his disposition and feelings his style conveys. Poor dear fellow! Not a present. I have a great mind to send him all the twelve copies which were to have been dispersed among my near connections,

beginning with the PR, and ending with Countess Morley. Adieu. Yours affectionately, J. Austin. Give my love to Cassie and Mary Jane. Caroline will be gone when this reaches you. End of Section 29. Section 30 of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libravox recording is in the public domain.

Letter 71 Hens Place, Saturday, December 2nd. My dear Cassandra. Henry came back. back yesterday, and might have returned the day before, if he had known as much in time. I had the pleasure of hearing from Mr. T. on Wednesday night that Mr. Seymour thought that it was not the least occasion for his absenting himself any longer. I had also the comfort of a few lines on Wednesday morning from Henry himself, just after your

letter was gone, giving so good an account of his feelings, as made me perfectly easy. He met with the utmost care and attention at Hanwell, spent his two days there very quietly and pleasantly, and being suddenly in no respect to the worse for going, we may believe that he must be better, as he is quite sure of being himself. To make his return a complete gala, Mr. Hayden was secured for dinner. I need not say that our evening was agreeable. But you seem to be under a mistake as to Mr. H. You call him an apothecary. He is no apothecary. He has never been an apothecary. There is not an apothecary in this neighbourhood. The only inconvenience of the situation, perhaps, but so it is.

We have not a medical man within reach. He is a Hayden, nothing but a Hayden, a sort of wonderful, non-descript creature on two legs, something between a man and an angel, but without the least spice of an apothecary. He is perhaps the only person not an apothex hereabouts. He is never sung to us. He will not sing without a pianoforte accompaniment. Mr. Myers gives his three lessons a week, altering his days and his hours, however, just as he chooses, never very punctual, and never giving good measure. I have not Fanny's fondness for masters, and Mr. Myers does not give me any longing after them.

The truth is, I think, that they are all at least music masters, made of too much consequence, and allowed to take too many liberties with their scholars' time. We shall be delighted to see Edward on Monday, only so. sorry that you must be losing him. A turkey will be equally welcome with himself. He must prepare for his own proper bedchamber here, as Henry moved down to the one below last week. He found the other cold. I am sorry my mother has been suffering, and am afraid this exquisite weather is too good to agree with her. I enjoy it all over me, from top to toe, from right to left, longitudinally, perpendicularly, diagonally. And I cannot but selfishly hope we are to have it last till Christmas. Nice, unwholesome, unseasonable, relaxing, close, muggy weather. Oh, thank you very much for your long letter.

It did me a great deal of good. Henry accepts your offer of making his nine gallon of mead, thankfully. The mistake of the dogs rather vexed him for a moment, but he has not thought of it since. Today he makes a third attempt at his strengthening plaster, and as I am sure he will now be getting out a great deal, it is to be wished that he may be able to keep it on. He sets off this morning by the Chelsea coach to sign Bonds and visit Henrietta Street, and I have no doubt will be going every day to Henrietta Street. Fanny and I were very snug by ourselves, as soon as we were satisfied about our invalids being safe at Hanwell. By manoeuvring and good luck, we foiled all the mailings attempts upon us. Happily, I caught a little cold on Wednesday the morning we were in town, which we made very useful, and we saw nobody but our precious, and Mr. Tilsen. This evening the mailings are allowed to drink tea with us. We are in hopes, that is we wish, Miss Palmer and little girls may come this morning.

You know, of course, that she could not come on Thursday, and she will not attempt to name any other day. God bless you. "'Excuse the shortness of this, but I must finish it now, that I may save you tuppence. "'Best love, yours affectionately, J.A.' "'It strikes me that I have no business to give the PR a binding, but we will take counsel upon the question. "'I am glad you have put the flounce on your chintz. I am sure it must look particularly well, and it is what I had thought of.' "' Letter 72.'

"'Chorton, February 20th, 1816. My dearest Fanny, You are inimitable, irresistible, you are the delight of my life. Such letters, such entertaining letters as you have lately sent, such a description of your queer little heart, such a lovely display of what imagination does. You are worth your weight in gold, or even in the new silver coinage. I cannot express to you what I have felt in reading your history of yourself, how full of pity and concern, and admiration and amusement I have been. You are the paragon of all that is silly and sensible, commonplace and eccentric, sad and lively, provoking and interesting. Who can keep pace with the fluctuations of your fancy,

the capricios of your taste, the contradictions of your feelings? You are so odd, and all the time so perfectly natural, so peculiar in yourself, and yet, so like everybody else?' It is very, very gratifying to me to know you so intimately. You can hardly think what a pleasure it is to me to have such thorough pictures of your heart. Oh, what a loss it will be when you were married. You are too agreeable in your single state—too agreeable as a niece.

I shall hate you when your delicious play of mind is all settled down into conjugal and maternal affections. Mr. B. frightens me. He will have you. I see you at the altar. I have some faith in Mrs. C. Cage's observation, and still more in Lizzie's, and besides I know it must be so. He must be wishing to attach you. It would be too stupid and too shameful in him to be otherwise, and all the family are seeking your acquaintance. Do not imagine that I have any real objection. I have rather taken a fancy to him than not, and I like the house for you.

I only do not like that you should marry anybody. And yet, I do wish you to marry very much, because I know you will never be happy till you are. But the loss of a fanny night will never be made up to me. My affectionate niece, FCB, will be but a poor substitute. I do not like you're being nervous and so apt to cry. It is a sign you are not quite well. But I hope Mr. Scud!

as you always write his name. Your Mr. Scuds amuse me very much. We'll do you good. What a comfort that Cassandra should be so recovered. It was more than we had expected. I can easily believe she was very patient and very good. I always loved Cassandra for her fine, dark eyes and sweet temper. I am almost entirely cured of my rheumatism, just a little pain in my me now and then, to make me remember what it was, and keep on flannel. Aunt Cassandra nursed me so beautifully. I enjoy your visit to Goodnaston. It must be a great pleasure to you. You have not seen Fanny Cage in comfort so long. I hope she represents and remonstrates and reasons with you

properly. Why should you be living in dread of his marrying someone else? Yet, how natural. You did not choose to have him yourself. Why not allow him to take comfort, where he can. In your conscience you know that he could not bear a companion with a more animated character. You cannot forget how you felt under the idea of its having been possible that he might have dined in Han's place. My dearest Fanny, I cannot bear that you should be unhappy about him. Think of his principles. Think of his father's objection, of want of money, etc., etc. But I am doing no good. No, all that I urge against him will rather make you take his part more. sweet perverse fanny.

And now I will tell you that we like your Henry to the utmost, to the very top of the glass, quite brimful. He is a very pleasing young man. I do not see how he could be mended. He does really bid fair to be everything his father and sister could wish. And William I love very much indeed. And so do we all. He is quite our own William.

In short, we are very comfortable together. That is, we can answer for ourselves. Mrs. Deeds is as welcome as may to all our benevolence to her son. We only lamented that we could not do more, and that the fifty-pound note we slipped into his hand at parting was necessarily the limit of our offering. Good, Mrs. Deeds. Scandal and gossip. Yes, I dare say you are well stocked, but I am very fond of Mrs. Blank, for reasons good. Thank you for mentioning her praise of Emma, etc. I have contributed the marking to Uncle H's shirt. and now they are a complete memorial of the tender regard of many. Friday. I had no idea when I began this yesterday of sending it before your brother went back,

but I have written away my foolish thought at such a rate that I will not keep them many hours longer to stare me in the face. Much obliged for the quadrilles, which I am going to think pretty enough, though of course they are very inferior to the courtillions of my own day. Ben and Anna walked here last Sunday to hear Uncle Henry, and she looked so pretty. It was quite a pleasure to see her, so young and so blooming and so innocent, as if she had never had a wicked thought in her life, which yet one has some reason to suppose she must have had, if we believe the doctrine of original sin. I hope Lizzie will have her play very kindly arranged for her.

Henry is generally thought very good-looking, but not so handsome as Edward. I think I prefer his face. William is an excellent looks, has a fine appetite, and seems perfectly well. You will have a great break-up at Godmisham in the spring. You must feel they're all going. It is very right, however. Poor Miss C. I shall pity her when she begins to understand herself. Your objection to the quadrilles delighted me exceedingly.

Pretty well, for a lady irrecoverably attached to one person. Sweet Fanny, believe no such thing of yourself. Spread no such malicious slander upon your understanding within the precincts of your imagination. Do not speak ill of your sense merely for the gratification of your fancy. Yours is sense, which deserves more honourable treatment. You are not in love with him. You never have been really in love with him. Yours very affectionately. Jay Austin. And of Section 30. Section 31. Section 31. of the letters of Jane Austen. This Libervox recording is in the public domain.

Letter 73 Chorton, Thursday, March 13th. As to making any adequate return for such a letter as yours, my dearest Fanny, it is absolutely impossible. If I were to labour at it all the rest of my life, and live to the age of Methuselah, I could never accomplish anything so long and so perfect. but I cannot let William go without a few lines of acknowledgement and reply.

I have pretty well done with Mr. Blank. By your description he cannot be in love with you, however he may try at it, and I could not wish the match unless there were a great deal of love on his side. I do not know what to do about Jemima Branfield. What does her dancing away with so much spirit mean, that she does not care for him, or only wishes to appear not to care for him? Who can understand a young lady? Poor Mrs. C. Mills, that she should die on the wrong day at last, after being about it so long.

It was unlucky that the Goodneston Party could not meet you, and I hope her friendly, obliging social spirit, which delighted in drawing people together, was not conscious of the division and disappointment she was occasioning. I am sorry and surprise that you speak of her as having little to leave, and must feel for Miss Mills, though she is Molly, if a material loss of income is to attend her other loss. Single women have a dreadful propensity for being poor, which is one very strong argument in favour of matrimony, but I need not dwell on such arguments with you, pretty dear. To you, I shall say, as I have often said before, do not be in a hurry. The right man will come at last.

You will, in the course of the next two or three years, meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as possible, and who will so completely attract to you that you will feel you never really loved before. Do none of the A's ever come to balls now? You've never mentioned them as being at any, and what do you hear of the grips, or of Fanny and her husband? Aunt Cassandra walked to Wired's yesterday with Mrs. Digweed. Anna has had a bad cold, and looks pale. She has just weaned Julia. I have also heard lately from your aunt Harriet, and cannot understand their plans in parting with Miss S., whom she seems very much to value now that Harriet and Eleanor are both of age for a governess to be so useful to, especially as, when Caroline was sent to school some years, Miss Bell was still retained, though the others even then were nursery children.

They have some good reason, I dare say, though I cannot penetrate it. Until I know what it is I shall invent a bad one, and amuse myself with accounting for the difference of measures, by supposing Miss S. to be a superior sort of woman, who has never stooped to recommend herself to the master of the family by flattery, as Miss Bell did. I will answer your kind questions more than you expect. Miss Catherine is put upon the shelf for the present, and I do not know that she will ever come out. but I have a something ready for publication, which may perhaps appear about a twelve-month hence. It is short, about the length of Catherine. This is for yourself alone.

Neither Mr. Sulisbury nor Mr. Wildman is to know of it. I am got tolerably well again, quite equal to walking about and enjoying the air, and by sitting down and resting a good while between my walks, I get exercise enough. I have a scheme, however, for accomplishing more, as the weather grows spring-like. I mean to take to riding the donkey. It will be more independent and less troublesome than the use of the carriage, and I shall be able to go about with Aunt Cassandra in her walks to Alton and Wires. I hope you will think William looking well.

He was bilious the other day, and Aunt Cassandra supplied him with a dose at his own request. I am sure you would have approved it. William and I are the best of friends. I love him very much. Everything is so natural about him, his affections, his manners, and his drollery, he entertains and interests us extremely. Matt Hammond and A. M. Shaw are people whom I cannot care for in themselves. But I enter into their situation, and am glad they are so happy. If I were the Duchess of Richmond, I should be very

miserable about my son's choice. Our fears increase for poor little Harriet. The latest account is that Sir Eve home is confirmed in his opinion of there being water on the brain. I hope heaven in its mercy will take her soon. Her poor father will be quite worn out by his feelings for her. He cannot spare Cassie at present. She is an occupation and a comfort to him. Letter 74. Chorton, Sunday, March 23rd. I am very much obliged to you, my dearest Fanny, for sending me Mr. W.'s conversation. I had great amusement in reading it, and I hope I am not affronted, and do not think the worse of him for having a brain so very different from mine. But my strongest sensation of all is astonishment, at your being able to press him on the subject so perseveringly,

and I agree with your papa that it was not fair. When he knows the truth, he will be uncomfortable. You are the oddest creature. Nervous enough in some respects, but in others perfectly without nerves, quite unrepulsable, hardened, and impudent. Do not oblige him to read any more. Have mercy on him, tell him the truth, and make him an apology. He and I should not in the least agree, of course, in our ideas of novels and heroines. Pictures of perfection, as you know, make me sick and wicked, but there is some very good sense in what he says, and I particularly respect him for wishing to think well of all young ladies. It should have been. He was an amiable and a delicate mind.

And he deserves better treatment than to be obliged to read any more of my works. Do not be surprised at finding Uncle Henry acquainted with my having another ready for publication. I could not say no when he asked me, but he knows nothing more of it. You will not like it, so you need not be impatient. You may perhaps like the heroine, as she is almost too good for me. Many thanks for your kind care for my health. I suddenly have not been well for many weeks, and about a week ago I was very poorly. I have had a good deal of fever at times, and indifferent nights.

But I am considerably better now, and am recovering my looks a little, which have been bad enough, black and white, and every wrong colour. I must not depend upon ever being very blooming again. Sickness is a dangerous indulgence at my time of life. Thank you for everything you tell me. I do not feel worthy of it by anything I can say in return, but I assure you my pleasure in your letters is quite as great as ever, and I am interested and amused just as you could wish me.

If there is a Miss Marsden, I perceive whom she will marry. Evening I was languid and dull and very bad company when I wrote the above. I am better now, to my own feelings at least, and I wish I may be more agreeable. We are going to have rain, and after that I am very good. that very pleasant, genial weather, which will exactly do for me, as my saddle would then be completed, and air and exercise is what I want. Indeed, I shall be very glad when the event at Scarlet's is over. The expectation of it keeps us in worry, your grand-mama especially. She sits brooding

over evils which cannot be remedied, and conduct impossible to be understood. Now the reports from Keppel Street are rather better. Little Harriet's headaches are abated, and Sir Everard is satisfied with the effects of the mercury, and does not despair of a cure. The complaint I find is not considered incurable nowadays, provided the patient be young enough not to have the head hardened. The water in that case may be drawn off by mercury. But though this is a new idea to us, perhaps it may have been long familiar to you, through your friend, Mr. Scud. I hope his high renown is sustained by driving away William's cough. Tell William that Triggs is as beautiful and condescending as ever, and were so good as to dine with us today, and tell him that I often play at Nines, and think of him.

The Papillon's came back on Friday night, but I have not seen them yet, as I do not venture to church. I cannot hear, however, that they are the same Mr. P. and his sister they used to be. She has engaged a new maid-servant in Mrs. Corker's room, whom she means to make also housekeeper under herself. Old Fillmore was buried yesterday, and I, by way of saying something to Triggs, observed that it had been a very handsome funeral. But his manner of reply made me suppose that it was not generally esteemed so. I can only be sure of one part being very handsome, Triggs himself, walking behind in his green coat. Mrs. Fillmore attended his chief mourner, in Bombazine, made very short, and flounced with crape. Tuesday I have had various plans as to this letter, but at last I have determined that Uncle Henry shall forward it from London. I want to see how Canterbury looks in the direction. When once Uncle Eight has left us, I shall wish him with you. London has become a hateful

place to him, and he is always depressed by the idea of it. I hope he will be in time for your sick. I am sure he must do that part of his duty as excellently as all the rest. He returned yesterday from Steventon, and was with us by breakfast, bringing Edward with him, only that Edward stayed to breakfast at Wilds. We had a pleasant family day, for the autumn's dined with us, the last visit of the kind probably, which he'll be able to pay us for many a month. I hope your own Henry is in France, and that you have heard from him. The passage once over, he will feel all happiness. I took my first ride yesterday and liked it very much. I went up Mounters Lane and round by where the new cottages are to be, and found the exercise and

everything very pleasant, and I had the advantage of agreeable companions, as Aunt Cass and Edward walked by my side. Aunt Cass is such an excellent nurse, so assiduous and unwearied. But you know all that already. Very affectionately yours. J. Austin. Letter 75. Chorton. Sunday, September 8th, 1816. My dearest Cassandra, I have borne the arrival of your letter today extremely well. Anybody might have thought it was giving me pleasure. I am very glad you find so much to be satisfied with it Cheltenham. While the waters agree, everything else is trifling. A letter arrived for you from Charles last Thursday. They are all safe and pretty well in Keppel Street, the children decidedly better for Broadstairs, and he writes principally to ask when it will be

convenient to us to receive Miss P., the little girls, and himself. They would be ready to set off in ten days from the time of his writing, to pay their visits in Hampshire and Berkshire, and he would prefer coming to Chawton first. I have answered him, and said that we hoped it might suit them to wait till the last week in September, as we could not ask them sooner, either on your account, or the want of room. I mentioned the twenty-third is the probable day of your return. When you have once left Cheltenham, I shall grudge every half-day wasted on the road, if there were but a coach from Hungerford to Chorton. I have desired him to let me here again soon.

He does not include a maid in the list to be accommodated, but if they bring one, as I suppose they will, you shall have no bed in the house even then for Charles himself, let alone Henry. But what can we do? We shall have the great house quite at our command, it is to be cleared of the Papillon's servants in a day or two. They themselves have been hurried off into Essex to take possession, not of a large estate left them by an uncle, but to scrape together all they can, I suppose, of the effects of a Mrs. Rawston, a rich old friend and cousin, suddenly deceased, to whom they are joint executors. So there is a happy end of the Kentish Papillon's coming here. No morning service to-day, wherefore I am writing between twelve and one o'clock. Mr. Ben is in the afternoon, and likewise more rain again, by the

look and sound of things. You left us in doubt of Mrs. Ben's situation, but she has bespoke her nurse. The F.A. signed with us yesterday, and had fine weather both for coming and going home, which has hardly ever happened to them before. She is still unprovided with the housemaid. Our day at Alton was very pleasant. Venison, quite right, children well-behaved, and Mr. and Mrs. Digweed taking kindly to our charades and other games. I must also observe, for his mother's satisfaction, that Edward had my suggestion devoted himself very properly to the entertainment of Miss S. Gibson. Nothing was wanting, except Mr. S. S. Sweeney, but he, alas, had been ordered away to London the day before. We had a beautiful walk home by moonlight. Thank you. My back has given me

scarcely any pain for many days. I have an idea that agitation does as much harm as fatigue, and that I was ill at the time of your going from the very circumstance of your going. I am I am nursing myself now into a beautiful state as I can, because I hear that Dr. White means to call on me before he leaves the country." "'Evening.' Frank and Barry and the children visited us this morning. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson are to come on the twenty-third, and there is too much reason to fear they will stay above a week.

Little George could tell me where you were gone to, as well as what you were to bring him, when I asked him the other day. Sir Thomas Miller is dead. I treat you with a dead baronet in almost every letter. So you have sea craven among you, as well as the Duke of Orleans, and Mr. Pocock. But it mortifies me that you have not added one to the stock of common acquaintance. Do pray meet with somebody belonging to yourself. I am quite weary of your knowing nobody.

Mrs. Degweed parts with both Hannah and old cook, the formal not give up her lover, who is a man of bad character. The latter is guilty only of being unequal to anything. Miss Terry was to have spent this week with her sister, but as usual it is put off. My amiable friend knows the value of her company. I have not seen Anna since the day you left us. Her father and brother visited her most days. Edward and Ben called here on Thursday.

Edward was in his way to Selborne. We found him very agreeable. He has come back from France, thinking of the French as one could wish, disappointed in everything. He did not go beyond Paris. I have had a letter for Mrs. Perragold. She and her mother are in London again. She speaks of France as a scene of general poverty and misery. No money, no trade, nothing to be got but by the innkeepers. And as to her own present prospects, she is not much less melancholy than before. I have also a letter from Miss Sharp, quite one of her letters. She has been again obliged to

exert herself more than ever, in a more distressing, more harassed state, and has met with another excellent old physician and his wife, with every virtue under heaven, who takes to her and cures her from pure love and benevolence. Doctor and Mrs. Stora are there Mrs. and Miss Palmer, for they are at Bridlington. I am happy to say, however, that the sum of the account is better than usual. Sir William is returned. From Bridlington they go to Chauvet, and she is to have a young governess under her. I enjoyed Edward's company very much, as I said before, and yet I was not sorry when Friday came. It had been a busy week, and I wanted a few days quiet and exemption from the thought and contrivancy which any sort of company gives. I often wonder how you can

find time for what you do, in addition to the care of the house, and how good Mrs. West could have written such books, and collected so many hard words, with all her family cares, is still more a matter of astonishment. Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton and doses of rhubarb. Monday. Here is a sad morning. I fear you may have not been able to get to the pump. The two last days were very pleasant.

I enjoyed them the more for your sake. But today it is really bad enough to make you all cross. I hope Mary will change her lodgings at the fortnight's end. I am sure if you looked about well, you would find others in some odd corner to suit you better. Mrs. Potter changes for the name of the High Street. success to the pianoforte i trust it will drive you away we now hear that there is no honey this year bad news for us we must husband our present stock of mead and i am sorry to perceive that our twenty gallons is very nearly out i cannot comprehend how the fourteen gallons could last so long we do not much like mr cooper's new sermons they are fuller of regeneration and conversion than ever with the addition of his zeal in the cause of the bible society Martha's love to Mary and Caroline, and she is extremely glad to find they like the police.

The DeBarris are indeed odious. We are to see my brother to-morrow, but only for one night. I had no idea that he would care for the races without Edward. Remember me to all. Yours very affectionately, Jay Austin. Note by Lord Braborn. I insert here a letter of Jane Austen's written backwards, addressed to her niece Cassie, daughter of Captain John.

Charles Austin, afterwards Admiral, when a little girl. Letter 76. My dear Cassie, I wish you a happy new year. Your six cousins came here yesterday, and had each a piece of cake. This is little Cassie's birthday, and she is three years old. Frank has begun learning Latin. We feed the Robin, every morning. Sally often inquires after you. Sally Benham has got a new green gown. Harriet Knight comes every day to read to Aunt Cassandra. Goodbye, my dear Cassie. Aunt Cassandra sends her best love, and so we do all. Aunt Jane Austen.

Note by Lord Braborn. In January 1817, she wrote of herself as better and able to walk into Alton, and hoped in the summer she should be able to walk back. In April, her father in a note to Mrs. LaFoy says, I was happy to have a good account of herself written by her own hand in a letter from your aunt Jane. But all who love, and that is all who know her, must be anxious. on her account.

We all know how well-grounded that anxiety was, and how soon her relations had to lament over the loss of the dearest and brightest member of their family. And now I come to the saddest letters of all. Those which tell us of the end of that bright life, cut short just at the time when the world might have hoped that unabated intellectual vigor, supplemented by the experience brought by mature years, would have produced works, if possible, even more fascinating than those with which she had already embellished the literature of her country. But it was not to be. The fiat had gone forth. The ties which bound that sweet spirit to earth were to be severed, and a blank left, never to be filled in the family which her loved and loving

presence had blessed, and where she had been so well and fondly appreciated. In the early spring of 1817, the unfavorable symptoms increased, and the failure of her health was too visible to be neglected. Still no apprehensions of immediate danger were entertained, and it is probable that when she left Chalton for Winchester in May, she did not recognize the fact that she was bidding a last farewell to home. Happy for her if it was so, for there were few things more melancholy than to look upon any beloved place or person with the knowledge that it is for the last time. In all probability this grief was spared to Jane, for even after her arrival at Winchester, she spoke and wrote as if recovery was hopeful, and I fancy that her relations were by no means aware that the end was so near.

Note by Lord Braborn. Cassandra's letters tell the tale of the event in words that require no addition from me. They are simple and affecting, the words of one who had been stricken by a great grief, but whose religion stood her in good stead, and enabled her to bear it with fortitude. The firm and loving bond of union, which had ever united the Austin family, naturally intensified their sorrow at the loss of one of their number, and that the one of whom they had been so proud as well as so fond. They laid her within the walls of the old cathedral which she had loved so much, and went sorrowfully back to their homes, with the feeling that nothing could replace

to them the treasure they had lost. And most heavily of all must the blow have fallen upon the only sister, the correspondent, the companion, the other self of Jane, who had to return alone to the desolate home, and to the mother to whose comfort the two had hitherto ministered together, but who would henceforward have her alone on whom to rely. Letter from Miss Cassandra Austin to her niece, Miss Knight, after the death of her sister Jane, July 18, 1817. Letter 77 Winchester, Sunday My dearest Fanny.

Doubly dear to me now, for her dear sake, whom we have lost. She did love you most sincerely. And never shall I forget the proofs of love you gave her during her illness and writing those kind, amusing letters, at a time when I know your feelings would have dictated so different to style. Take the only reward I can give you, in the assurance that your benevolent purpose was answered. You did contribute to her enjoyment. Even your last letter afforded pleasure. I merely cut the seal and gave it to her.

She opened it and read it herself. Afterwards she gave it to me to read, and then talked to me a little, and not uncheerfully of its contents. But there was then a languor about her which prevented her taking the same interest in anything that she'd been used to do. Since Tuesday evening, when her complaint returned,

there was a visible change. She slept more and much more comfortably. Indeed, during the last eight and forty hours, she was more asleep than awake. Her looks altered, and she fell away. But I perceived no material diminution of strength, and though I was then hopeless of a recovery, I had no suspicion how rapidly my loss was approaching. I have lost a treasure. Such a sister!

Such a friend as never can have been surpassed. She was the son of my life, the gilder of every pleasure, the soother of every sorrow. I had not a thought concealed from her, and it is as if I had lost a part of myself. I loved her only too well, no better than she deserved, but I am conscious that my affection for her made me sometimes unjust to and negligent of others, and I can acknowledge, more than as a general principle, the justice of the hand which has struck this blow. You know me too well to be at all afraid that I should suffer materially from my feelings. I am perfectly conscious of the extent of my irreparable loss, but I am not at all overpowered,

and very little indisposed. Nothing but what a short time, with rest and change of air, will remove. I thank God that I was enabled to attend her to the last, and amongst my many causes of self-reproach, I have not to add any willful neglect of her comfort. She felt herself to be dying about half an hour before she became tranquil and apparently unconscious. During that half-hour was her struggle, poor soul. She said she could not tell us what she suffered, though she complained of little fixed pain. When I asked her if there was anything she wanted, her answer was that she wanted nothing but death, and some of her words were, God grant me patience.

Pray for me. Oh, pray for me. Her voice was affected, but as long as she spoke, she was intelligible. I hope I do not break your heart, my dearest Fanny, by these particulars. I mean to afford you gratification whilst I am relieving my own feelings. I could not write so to anybody else. Indeed, you are the only person I have written to at all,

excepting your grandpamar. It was to her, not to be able. Uncle Charles, I wrote on Friday. Immediately after dinner on Thursday I went into the town to do an errand which your dear aunt was anxious about. I returned about a quarter before six, and found her recovering from faintness and depression. She got so well as to be able to give me a minute account of her seizure, and when the

clock struck six, she was talking quietly to me. I cannot say how soon afterward she was seized again with the same faintness, but was followed by the suffering she could not describe, but Mr. Lyford had been sent for, had applied something to give her ease, and she was in a state of quiet insensibility by seven o'clock at the latest. From that time till half-past four, when she ceased to breathe, she scarcely moved a limb, so that we have every reason to think, with gratitude to the Almighty, that her sufferings were over. A slight motion of the head with every breath remained till almost the last. I sat close to her with a pillow in my lap to assist in supporting her head, which was almost

off the bed, for six hours. Fatigue made me then resign my place to Mrs. J.A. for two hours and a half, when I took it again, and in about an hour more, she breathed her last. I was able to close her eyes myself, and it was a great gratification to me to render her those last services. There was nothing convulsed which gave the idea of pain in her look. On the contrary, but for the continual motion of her head, she gave one the idea of a beautiful statue. And even now, in her coffin, there is such a sweet, serene air over her countenance, as is quite pleasant to contemplate.

This day, my dearest Fanny, you have had melancholy intelligence, and I know you suffer severely. But I likewise know that you will apply to the fountain-head for consolation, and that our merciful God is never deaf to such prayers as you will offer. The last sad ceremony is to take place on Thursday morning. Her dear remains are to be deposited in the cathedral. It is a satisfaction to me to think that they are to lie in a building she admired so much. Her precious soul, I presume to hope, proposes in a far superior mansion. May mine one day be reunited to it. "'Your dear papa, your uncle Henry and Frank and Edward Austin, instead of his father, will attend. I hope they will none of them suffer lastingly from their pious exertions.

The ceremony must be over before ten o'clock, as the cathedral's service begins at that hour, so that we shall be at home early in the day, for there will be nothing to keep us here afterwards. Your uncle James came to us yesterday, and is gone home today. Uncle H. goes to Chorton to-morrow morning. He is given every necessary direction here, and I think his company there will do good. He returns to us again on Tuesday evening. I did not think to have written a long letter when I began, but I have found the employment to draw me on, and I hope I shall have been giving you more pleasure than pain. Remember me kindly to Mrs. J. Bridges. I am so glad she is with you now. And give my best love to Lizzie,

and all the others. I am, my dearest Fanny, most affectionately yours, Cassandra Elizabeth Austin. I have said nothing about those at Chawton, because I am sure you hear from your papa. Letter of 78. Chorton, Tuesday, July 29, 1817.

My dearest Fanny, I have just read your letter for the third time, and thank you most sincerely for every kind expression. to myself, and still more warmly for your praises of her, who I believe was better known to you than to any human being besides myself. Nothing of the sort could have been more gratifying to me than the manner in which you write of her. And if the dear angel is conscious of what passes here, and is not above all earthly feelings, she may perhaps receive pleasure in being so mourned. Had she been the survivor, I can fancy her speaking of you in almost the same terms.

There are certainly many points of strong resemblance in your characters, in your intimate acquaintance with each other, and your mutual strong affection. You were counterparts. Thursday was not so dreadful a day to me as you imagined. There was so much necessary to be done that there is no time for additional misery. Everything was conducted with the greatest tranquility, and but that I was determined I would see the last, and therefore was upon the listen. I should not have known when they left the house.

I watched little mourn for procession the length of the street, and when it turned away from my sight, and I had lost her for ever. Even then I was not overpowered, nor so much agitated as I am now in writing of it. Never was human being more sincerely mourned by those who attended her remains, than was this dear creature. May the sorrow with which she is parted with on earth, be a prognostic of the joy with which she is hailed in heaven. I continue very tolerably well, much better than anyone could have supposed, because I certainly have considerable fatigue of body, as well as anguish of mind for months back. But I really am well, and I hope I am properly grateful to the Almighty for having been so supported. Your grandmamma, too,

is much better than when I came home. I did not think your dear papa appeared unwell, and I understand that he seemed much more comfortable after his return from Winchester than he he had done before. I need not tell you that he was a great comfort to me. Indeed, I never can say enough of the kindness I have received from him, and from every other friend. I get out of doors a good deal, and am able to employ myself. Of course, those employment suit me best which leave me most at leisure to think of her I have lost, and I do think of her in every variety of circumstance, in our happy hours of confidential intercourse, in the cheerful family party which she so ornamented, in her sick-room, on her death-bed, and as, I hope, an inhabitant of heaven. Oh, if I may one day be reunited to her there! I know the time must come when my mind will be less engrossed by her idea, but I do not like to think of it. If I think of her less as on earth, God grant that I may never cease to reflect on her as inhabiting heaven, and never cease my humble endeavours, when it shall please God, to join her there.

In looking at a few of the precious papers which are now my property, I have found some memorandums, amongst which she desires that one of her gold chains may be given her God-daughter Louisa, and a look of her hair be set for you. You can need no assurance, my dearest Fanny, that every request of your beloved aunt will be sacred with me. Be so good as to say whether you prefer a brooch or a ring. God bless you, my dearest Fanny. Believe me, most affectionately yours, Cassandra Elizabeth Austin. End of Section 31.

End of the letters of Jane Austen. By Jane Austen.