great fault, almost a crime--a dereliction of duty which leads
rapidly and almost certainly to all manner of degradation. It is
very wrong of you to _plead_ for toleration for workers on the ground
of their being in peculiar circumstances, and few in number or
singular in disposition. Work or degradation is the lot of all
except the very small number born to wealth.

'Ellen is with me, or I with her. I cannot tell how our shop will
turn out, but I am as sanguine as ever. Meantime we certainly amuse
ourselves better than if we had nothing to do. We _like_ it, and
that's the truth. By the _Cornelia_ we are going to send our
sketches and fern leaves. You must look at them, and it will need
all your eyes to understand them, for they are a mass of confusion.
They are all within two miles of Wellington, and some of them rather
like--Ellen's sketch of me especially. During the last six months I
have seen more "society" than in all the last four years. Ellen is
half the reason of my being invited, and my improved circumstances
besides. There is no one worth mentioning particularly. The women
are all ignorant and narrow, and the men selfish. They are of a
decent, honest kind, and some intelligent and able. A Mr. Woodward
is the only _literary_ man we know, and he seems to have fair sense.
This was the clerk I bought the stone-blue of. We have just got a
mechanic's institute, and weekly lectures delivered there. It is
amusing to see people trying to find out whether or not it is
fashionable and proper to patronise it. Somehow it seems it is. I
think I have told you all this before, which shows I have got to the
end of my news. Your next letter to me ought to bring me good news,
more cheerful than the last. You will somehow get drawn out of your
hole and find interests among your fellow-creatures. Do you know
that living among people with whom you have not the slightest
interest in common is just like living alone, or worse? Ellen Nussey
is the only one you can talk to, that I know of at least. Give my
love to her and to Miss Wooler, if you have the opportunity. I am
writing this on just such a night as you will likely read it--rain
and storm, coming winter, and a glowing fire. Ours is on the ground,
wood, no fender or irons; no matter, we are very comfortable.