d has
some superficial knowledge of various subjects; moreover, is a judge of
physiognomy, for he said he never saw a countenance with a more
beautiful expression of goodness than yours. Evidently, like Beatrice,
he can "see a church by daylight." Isn't it a pity that he can no longer
be my agent? Were you not struck with his great resemblance to your
idol, John Kemble? My mother used to say he was more like his son than
his nephew; and never having seen his uncle even, the curious collateral
likeness showed itself in all sorts of queer tricks in his delivery and
deportment on the stage, where, in spite of his resemblance to his
celebrated kinsman, he is a most lamentable actor. Of course, being an
educated man, he speaks with "good discretion;" of the "emphasis" the
less said the better.

I go to Bath to-morrow morning, and remain there until Thursday, when I
return here to act Lady Macbeth and then go back again to represent that
same lady at Bath either Friday or Saturday.

Farewell, my dear. God bless you.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

BATH, Wednesday, June 2d.

I have just had a long visit from Mr. C----, who is here, and who came
to see me this morning with a young niece of his--a fair, sweet-looking
girl of about eighteen, who, strangely enough, asked me a good many
questions about my affairs.... At the end of their visit, I found that
the young lady, while talking and listening to me, had torn up a
visiting-card and, with the fragments of it, put together on the table
the outline of a tiny Calvary, the cross upon a heap of rocks. I suppose
she is a Catholic, like her uncle, and I wonder why so many religious
people of all sorts and denominations take it for granted that others
stand in need of "Hints to Religion." ...

I was reminded (unnecessarily) of you at the theatre yesterday evening
when, immediately after the hateful stage-warning at my dressing-room
door of "Overture on, ma'am!" (the summons to the actors who are to
begin a piece), I heard the orchestra break forth into your favorite
strain of "Sad and fearful was the story." ...

The instinctive horror of suffering of our poor human bodies is pitiful.
What a sorry martyr I should have made! though I think I should not so
much object to others inflicting pain upon me as to inflicting it upon
myself,--that seems to