s. I have heard from dear Miss Mitford.

Ever affectionately yours,
E.B.B.

[Footnote 129: By Porson, on the authenticity of I John v. 7.]

_To H.S. Boyd_
March 29, 1845 [postmark].

My dearest Mr. Boyd,--As Arabel has written out for you the
glorification of 'Peter of York,'[130] I shall use an edge of the same
paper to 'fall on your sense' with my gratitude about the Cyprus wine.
Indeed, I could almost upbraid you for sending me another bottle. It
is most supererogatory kindness in you to think of such a thing. And
I accept it, nevertheless, with thanks instead of remonstrances, and
promise you to drink your health in and the spring in together, and
the east wind out, if you do not object to it. I have been better for
several days, but my heart is not yet very orderly--not being able to
recover the veins, I suppose, all in a moment.

For the rest, you always mean what is right and affectionate, and I am
not apt to mistake your meanings in this respect. Be indulgent to me
as far as you can, when it appears to you that I sink far below your
religious standard, as I am sure I must do oftener than you remind
me. Also, it certainly does appear, to my mind, that we are not, as
Christians, called to the exclusive expression of Christian doctrine,
either in poetry or prose. All truth and all beauty and all music
belong to God--He is in all things; and in speaking of all, we speak
of Him. In poetry, which includes all things, 'the diapason closeth
full in God.' I would not lose a note of the lyre, and whatever He has
included in His creation I take to be holy subject enough for _me_.
That I am blamed for this view by many, I know, but I cannot see it
otherwise, and when you pay your visit to 'Peter of York' and me, and
are able to talk everything over, we shall agree tolerably well, I do
not doubt.

Ah, what a dream! What a thought! Too good even to come true!

I did not think that you would much like the 'Duchess May;' but among
the _profanum vulgus_ you cannot think how successful it has been.
There was an account in one of the fugitive reviews of a lady falling
into hysterics on the perusal of it, although _that_ was nothing to
the gush of tears of which there is a tradition, down the Plutonian
cheeks of a lawyer unknown, over 'Bertha in the Lane.' But these
things should not make anybody vain. It is the _story_ that has power
with people, just what _you_ do not care for!

About the reviews you ask a difficult