From Miss Douglas to Miss Sandford.

My dearest Julia,

It is some time since you have heard from me, and in the interval much has happened to disturb our even course of life. The departure of our friends, particularly that of Arthur, produced a degree of desolation at Glenalta, which can only be understood by such as have felt the pangs of separation from those they love. When you left us, a similar chasm was made in our happiness, but you could not comprehend our feelings, though you were very sorry to say farewell. You were going, we were staying, and supposing the same measure of affection, there must be a wide difference between the situation of a mind presented continually with new objects that force themselves on the observation, and one that is bound in all the melancholy associations of that scene which had witnessed its happiness. The fresh air, the constant movement, the necessity of speaking and interesting oneself in the details of a journey, must save the heart much bitterness, which is reserved for the saddened spirits left behind. I never shall forget the tomb-like silence that pervaded our cheerful abode when the last sound of the carriage wheels, that bore away dear Mrs. Fitzroy and Arthur, were no longer to be heard. We then only seemed to feel the full extent of our deprivation.

Charlotte and I, unable to occupy ourselves, wandered like ghosts. Oh the emptiness of a bedchamber from which your friend has just departed! The pillow still bearing impress of the head which had rested on it so recently; the spikes of lavender scattered on the floor, which, perhaps, you had gathered yourself in a happier hour, to give fragrance to the now vacant wardrobe; the back of a letter inscribed with the name that now stops your utterance, and the thousand other trifles, light as air, that take affection by surprise, and make one wretched through every fibre of the frame! Fanny's grief had quicker vent; she wept, till like a babe that cries itself to sleep, nature would have rest; and I envied her the power of listening with rapture, to the history of some young cygnets, which old Lawrence had got from Bantry as a present for her. Frederick was sincerely sorrowful, but he was obliged to attend to Mr. Oliphant, and his mind was relieved by the necessity of being employed.

The beloved mother who suffers more than she enjoys society, always returns to the stillness of retirement, glad to repose after exertion, and rewarded by the happy feeling of having practised self-denial in order to make others happy.

Charlotte and I then were the miserable of our little circle, and the kind Phil. accordingly gave his principal attention to us. He insisted on our being busy. He drove us to our gardens, to our poor people, to the schools, all of which had been less carefully watched, while our friends were with us. How slow is the progress of improvement. How rapid the growth of whatever is baleful in its nature! We found much to reclaim, and were ashamed, as well as astonished to find how things may go astray, and run to ruin, while one is only pursuing what appears an innocent gratification. Well, it shall not happen again. We have now restored matters to their former good order, and if we enjoy less pleasure than we did in the midst of more varied attraction; I feel more contentment and less self-reproach, since we have resumed our accustomed course. I now understand that of which it was so difficult to convince me, namely, that company, however delightful, is too stimulating for a continuance, and that it is very wholesome to be left alone now and then with one's own heart.

Letters (that blessed invention) have informed us constantly of all that is interesting in the lives and adventures of our absent friends; but the last accounts from Arthur have distressed mamma, and produced commotion in our tranquil valley.

My poor uncle is in short arrived, and so ill that his physician has written to beg Mr. Otway's immediate presence in London. It is thought right that Frederick should accompany him as a proper mark of respect, and also to add weight to mamma's request, that should our mild climate be considered advisable for the invalid, he will repair as soon as possible to Glenalta.

To lose Frederick and our friend of Lisfarne at one and the same moment is a stroke which needs some philosophy to endure; and I am afraid that we are not bearing it as we ought to do. Then I cannot help feeling sadly afraid of uncle Douglas, who is, Arthur says, very repellent in his manners. Poor man! he suffers much, and it is unreasonable to expect that he should be agreeable in his present circumstances; but I am so accustomed to the sweet accents of gentleness and affection, that nothing terrifies me so much as the idea of severity. I feel still more for mamma than for myself, and as the general has apparently taken a dislike already, Arthur tells us, to my aunt Howard and Louisa, why should we expect better at the hands of one, governed, perhaps, by prejudice against all his family, with whom he has kept up very little intercourse?

Mr. Otway and Frederick set out next week, and but for the delight I have in the hope that they will soon return, and the latter be happy in his cousin's society, while he is enjoying his first visit to London, I should be inconsolable.

We have had intelligence of Lord and Lady Crayton's arrival in Rome, where young Stanhope has seen them. Lord C. is fond of play, and poor Adelaide Howard, I am afraid, is destined to be any thing but blessed in her union with him. What can induce people to make the sacrifice of liberty and peace for the sake of a paltry title? Perhaps I am careless about such things only because I am placed in a situation where they are of little value; but a coronet seems of small estimation in my eyes, and I wish that my cousin had a husband less extravagant and more domestic, though plain Mr. instead of Viscount, preceded his name. He and Adelaide are to pass the winter in Paris.

You bid me to describe our late visitors. To say that we found them a very agreeable addition to our party, is saying nothing that will help you to distinguish one from the other. Yet beyond some such general description, what can tell of strangers? If you delineate the features of a landscape, you can speak not only of them as they seem, but as they are; but what a length of time is required to guard against misrepresentation in painting the human character, of which we can for a long while only know the signs, but may remain in profound ignorance of the motives which govern them!

You may remember how much I used to admire Miss Talbot. I saw her frequently last summer, when she looked so pretty, and was so kind to me, that I became quite enthusiastic in her praise; and should have been very foolish about her, if mamma had not damped my energy, by saying one day, "dearest Emily, do not take so much for granted: wait to know Miss Talbot better before you give her all your heart." I felt that there must be good reason for this reproof, or I should not have received it. I paused, and ceasing to inflate my mind with my own exaggerations, mistaking them for realities, I did wait to know Miss Talbot better, and one look, though unaccompanied by a word, darted at her father, who asked for a particular song which she did not choose to sing, levelled the whole edifice of my admiration to the dust. The same song which she had refused to a parent's request, she volunteered when Mr. Mortimer Fitzallan came into the room, saying, in her sweetest accents, and with her winning smile, "I will now sing your favourite." To return after a digression, which contains my apology for not attempting to give you exact portraits of our guests, I will proceed to say, that as far as I am acquainted with them, I like Mr. Annesley better than Mr. Russell, and both pleased me, though not in the same manner. The former is more gentle and reflecting than his friend, the latter full of music and of merriment; but one is not always merry, and if not, Mr. Russell's animal spirits fatigue. Then, as to music, I think that he likes it less for its own sake, than as a subject on which to be eloquent. Mr. Annesley says less, but does more than the other, in the way of those little polite attentions which mark a wish to please; and he looks so sincere, that one feels always ready to believe whatever he utters, while the wandering eye of his companion would indicate that his thoughts are every where, or no where, though his tongue be employed in giving to them the liveliest expression. Mr. Annesley's animation arises out of the occasion, while Mr. Russell is ever intent on seeking opportunity to exhibit his. In conversing with the one, you find your spirits refreshed by the natural alternation of stimulus and repose. In talking to the other, you are made to feel that a certain measure of excitement is to be run out; after which, you must lie by to recruit, ere you commence anew. They are both polished, and have received all the advantages of modern education, and thus ends my story of them.

Mamma will write to dear Mrs. Sandford, when she can tell her of the general's movements. Have you ever remarked how many people tack an emphatic the to any admiral, general, colonel, dean, or archdeacon, accidentally appended to their family, just as if there were no other of each class in the world beside their own? Adieu, dearest Julia: our united loves to all at Checkley.

Believe me, ever your
Affectionate friend,
Emily Douglas.