fully, but it left her courage at low ebb. Her first report
to her sister is not cheerful:--

THE CASTLE, MITCHELSTOWN, Oct. 30, 1787.

Well, my dear girl, I am at length arrived at my journey's end. I
sigh when I say so, but it matters not, I must labor for content,
and try to reconcile myself to a state which is contrary to every
feeling of my soul. I can scarcely persuade myself that I am awake;
my whole life appears like a frightful vision, and equally
disjointed. I have been so very low-spirited for some days past, I
could not write. All the moments I could spend in solitude were
lost in sorrow and unavailing tears. There was such a solemn kind
of stupidity about this place as froze my very blood. I entered the
great gates with the same kind of feeling as I should have if I was
going into the Bastille. You can make allowance for the feelings
which the General would term ridiculous or artificial. I found I
was to encounter a host of females,--My Lady, her step-mother and
three sisters, and Mrses. and Misses without number, who, of
course, would examine me with the most minute attention. I cannot
attempt to give you a description of the family, I am so low; I
will only mention some of the things which particularly worry me. I
am sure much more is expected from me than I am equal to. With
respect to French, I am certain Mr. P. has misled them, and I
expect in consequence of it to be very much mortified. Lady K. is a
shrewd, clever woman, a great talker. I have not seen much of her,
as she is confined to her room by a sore throat; but I have seen
half a dozen of her companions. I mean not her children, but her
dogs. To see a woman without any softness in her manners caressing
animals, and using infantine expressions, is, you may conceive,
very absurd and ludicrous, but a fine lady is a new species to me
of animal. I am, however, treated like a gentlewoman by every part
of the family, but the forms and parade of high life suit not my
mind.... I hear a fiddle below, the servants are dancing, and the
rest of the family are diverting themselves. I only am melancholy
and alone. To tell the truth, I hope part of my misery arises from
disordered nerves, for I would fain believe my mind is not so very
weak. The children are, literally speaking, wild Irish, u