ty library, and we subscribe to a modern one, and we have
plenty of writing to do of our own. If we can do anything for Fanny
Hanford, let us know. It would be too happy, I suppose, to have to do
it for yourselves. Think, however, I am quite well, quite well. I can
thank God, too, for being alive and well. Make dear Mr. Martin keep
well, and not forget himself in the Herefordshire cold--draw him into
the sun somewhere. Now write and tell me everything of your plans and
of you both, dearest friends. My husband bids me say that he desires
to have my friends for his own friends, and that he is grateful to you
for not crossing that feeling. Let him send his regards to you. And
let me be throughout all changes,

Your ever faithful and most affectionate
BA.

I am expecting every day to hear from my dearest sisters. Write to
them and love them for me.

This letter has been kept for several days from different causes. Will
you inclose the little note to Miss Mitford? I do not hear from home,
and am uneasy.

May God bless you!

November 9.

I am so vexed about those poems appearing just now in
'Blackwood.'[150] Papa must think it _impudent_ of me. It is
unfortunate.

[Footnote 150: _Blackwood's Magazine_ for October 1846 contained
the following poems by Mrs. Browning, some phrases in which might
certainly be open to comment if they were supposed to have been
deliberately chosen for publication at this particular time: 'A
Woman's Shortcomings,' 'A Man's Requirements,' 'Maude's Spinning,' 'A
Dead Rose,' 'Change on Change,' 'A Reed,' and 'Hector in the Garden.']

_To Miss Mitford_
[Pisa]: November 5, 1846.

I have your letter, ever dearest Miss Mitford, and it is welcome even
more than your letters have been used to be to me--the last charm
was to come, you see, by this distance. For all your affection and
solicitude, may you trust my gratitude; and if you love me a little,
I love you indeed, and never shall cease. The only difference shall be
that two may love you where one did, and for my part I will answer for
it that if you could love the poor one you will not refuse any love
to the other when you come to know him. I never could bear to speak to
you of _him_ since quite the beginning, or rather I never could dare.
But when you know him and understand how the mental gifts are scarcely
half of him, you will not wonder at your friend, and, indeed, two
years of steadfast affection from such a man would have, overc