ill I do I
dislike it.

* * * * *

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
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 Glyn. The Miss Lances
had partners, Captain D'Auvergne'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.

* * * * *

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.

Monday [January 30].

I am not at all ashamed about the name of the
novel, having been guilty of no insult towards
your handwriting; the diphthong I always saw, but
knowing how fond you were of adding a vowel
wherever 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 in the
name of Caleb, which has an honest, unpretending
sound, but in Coelebs there is pedantry and
affectation. Is it written only to classical
scholars?

I am sorry to find that Sir J. Moore has a mother
living, but though a very heroic son he might not
be a very necessary one to her happiness. Deacon
Morrell may be more to Mrs. Morrell.

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.

* * * * *

The store closet, I hope, will never do so again,
for much of the evil is proved to have proceeded
from the gutter being choked up, a