e to my music now (though some every day, because I will
not let go anything I have once possessed); for I shall never be a
proficient in it, and I already have as much of it at my command as
answers my need of it as a recreation. Any of these occupations is more
agreeable to me than letter-writing; so is needlework, so is walking
out, so is--almost anything else I could do. Now, as Shylock says, "Are
you answered yet?"

I should be sorry my brother Henry went to the trouble or expense of
coming over to Manchester or Liverpool to see me, as there is every
probability of my being in Dublin early in March, where I shall act till
the 22nd, and perhaps longer.

I have the privilege of sitting with an engraving of Lord Wilton, in his
peer's robes, _hung_ opposite to me--enough surely for any reasonable
woman's happiness....

God bless you, dear; give my love to dear Dorothy. I rejoice for her
that the cold is gone.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

My kind friend Henry Greville, and that very charming young Alfred
Potocki, brother of the Austrian Ambassadress, Madame de Dietrichstein,
and a great friend of Henry's, came down with me half way, yesterday;
they stopped at a friend's house about fifty miles from Manchester, and
come up to-morrow to see the play, so that I shall have the comfort of
people that I like, and not the trial of people that I love, near me on
that occasion.

I am not very nervous about my _plunge_; the only thing that I dread is
the noise (noise of any sort being what my nerves can no longer endure
at all) which I am afraid may greet me. I wish I could avoid my
"reception," as it is called, because any loud sound shakes me now from
head to foot; this is the one thing that I do dread--I have gained some
self-possession and strength in these past years, and I hope my acting
itself, as well as my comfort in acting, may benefit by my increased
self-command. Poor Hayes (my maid) says that the peace of being alone
with me, after our late lodging, is like having left _Hell_; we shall
see what she says to-morrow night at the theatre,--poor thing. Farewell.

ALBION HOTEL, MANCHESTER, Wednesday, 17th.
MY DEAR LADY DACRE,

I acted Julia in "The Hunchback" last night (the first time for thirteen
years); got up this morning with a dreadful cough and sore throat, the
effect of over-exertion and