'PISA, Nov. 17, 1821.

'I have to acknowledge the receipt of "Ada's hair," which is very soft
and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years old,
if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's possession,
taken at that age. But it don't curl--perhaps from its being let grow.

'I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name; and I will
tell you why: I believe that they are the only two or three words of your
handwriting in my possession. For your letters I returned; and except
the two words, or rather the one word, "Household," written twice in an
old account book, I have no other. I burnt your last note, for two
reasons: firstly, it was written in a style not very agreeable; and,
secondly, I wished to take your word without documents, which are the
worldly resources of suspicious people.

'I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's
birthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six: so
that, in about twelve more, I shall have some chance of meeting her;
perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business or
otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or
nearness--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long a
period, rather soften our mutual feelings; which must always have one
rallying point as long as our child exists, which, I presume, we both
hope will be long after either of her parents.

'The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably
more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much longer
one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake; but now it
is over, and irrevocably so. For at thirty-three on my part, and few
years less on yours, though it is no very extended period of life, still
it is one when the habits and thought are generally so formed as to admit
of no modification; and, as we could not agree when younger, we should
with difficulty do so now.

'I say all this, because I own to you, that notwithstanding everything, I
considered our reunion as not impossible for more than a year after the
separation; but then I gave up the hope entirely and for ever. But this
very impossibility of reunion seems to me at least a reason why, on all
the few points of discussion which can arise between us, we should
preserve the courtesies of life, and as much of its kindness as people
who are never to meet may preserve,--perh