e-mentioned courteous
stage-manager. From the 12th to the 17th of April, I act at Bath and
Bristol; and after that I think it is probable I shall act for a short
time in London,--but this is uncertain.

Your questions, for which you apologize, are particularly agreeable to
me, as, in spite of the ready invention and fluent utterance on which
you compliment me, I am always charmed to have the subject of my letters
suggested to me by the questions of my friends.

As my engagement in Dublin, like all the engagements I make, is _a
nightly one_, if it does not answer to the manager I shall of course
immediately put an end to it. I am secured from loss by payment after
each performance but should never think of taking what I do not bring to
my employer.

Mr. Calcraft writes me that he is sanguine about the engagement, in
spite of the public distress, and wants me to leave three nights open
after the 22d for the extension of it. We shall see.

God bless you, dear Hal. Give my affectionate love to Dorothy. I am most
happy to hear she is better. The kindness of the Manchester people has
filled my room with flowers, my "good angels," about which I am becoming
every day more superstitious, for I am never four-and-twenty hours in a
place that some do not make their appearance, to cheer and comfort me.
Farewell.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

BIRMINGHAM, Sunday, 28th.
MY DEAR LADY DACRE,

I played last night for the last time in Manchester. The house was
immensely full, and when I went on the stage after the piece, so loud
and long and cordial were they in their kind demonstrations of good-will
to me that, what with the exhaustion of a whole day's packing (which I
have to do for myself, my maid being utterly incompetent) and the
getting through my part, the whole thing was too much for me, and I
turned quite faint, and all but fell down on the stage. But I am not a
fainting woman, and so only went into violent hysterics as soon as I was
carried to my dressing-room. So much for that "pride" which you speak of
as likely to prevent my shedding tears when encountering the kind
acclamations of a multitude of my "fellow-creatures;" the most trying to
the nerves of all demonstrations, except, perhaps, its howl of
execration.

I came to this place to-day, and feel indescribably cheerless and lonely