lly do....

I understand Mr. Combe has parceled out both his whereabouts and
whatabouts, to the very inch and minute, for every day in the next two
years to come, which he intends to devote to the phrenological
regeneration of this country. I am afraid that he may meet with some
disappointment in the result of his labors: not indeed in Boston, where
considerable curiosity exists upon that subject, and a general proneness
to intellectual exercises of every description....

Throughout New England, his book on the "Constitution of Man," and his
brother's, on the treatment of that constitution, are read and valued,
and their name is held in esteem by the whole reading community of the
North. But I doubt his doing more than exciting a mere temporary
curiosity in New York and Philadelphia; and further south I should think
he would not be listened to at all, unless he comes prepared to
demonstrate phrenologically that the colored population of the Southern
States is (or are), by the conformation of their skulls, the legitimate
slaves of the whites.

Can anything be stranger than to think of Cecilia trotting over the
length and breadth of North America at the heels of a lecturing
philosopher? When I think of her in her mother's drawing-room in
London, in the midst of surroundings and society so different, I find no
end to my wonderment. She must have extraordinary adaptability to
circumstances in her composition.

I have just finished the play of which you read the beginning in
England--my "English Tragedy"--and am, as usual, in high delight just
now with my own performance. I wish that agreeable sentiment could last;
it is so pleasant while it does! I think I will send it over to
Macready, to try if he will bring it out at Covent Garden. I think it
might succeed, perhaps; unless, indeed, the story is too objectionable
for anything--but _reality_.

Perhaps I have had my share of health. I am sure I have had enough to be
most grateful for, if I should lie on a sick-bed for the rest of my
days....

God bless you, dear.

I am ever affectionately yours,
F. A. B.

PHILADELPHIA, Tuesday, November 13th, 1838.

... The sad news of my poor mother's death, my dear Mrs. Jameson,
reached me while I was staying up at Lenox, among those whom my good
fortune has raised up in this strange country to fill for me