me such an absurd and disagreeable work of
supererogation, I should never have been a self-body-torturer for the
salvation of my soul....

You would have been amused yesterday evening if you had been at the
theatre with me. The weather was so beautifully bright that I could not
bear to shut the shutters and light the gas, so I dressed by the blessed
light of heaven, and was sitting all rouged and arrayed for my part,
working, with my back to the window, when a small mob of poor little
ragged urchins, who had climbed over a railing that separated the
theatre from a mean-looking street behind it, collected round it, and,
clambering on each other's shoulders, clustered and hung like a swarm of
begrimed bees at the window, which was near the ground, to enjoy the
sight of me and my finery. Bridget, who is kind-hearted and fond of
children, turned the dresses that were hanging up right side out for the
edification of the poor little ragamuffins, and their comments were
exceedingly funny and touching. We could hear all that they said through
the window--how they wondered if I put _them_ beautiful dresses on one
by one, or over each other; the rose in my hair, which you gave me, and
the roses in my shoes, made them scream with delight; and if you could
have heard the pathetic earnestness with which one of them exclaimed,
"Oh my! don't you wish _them ere windies was cleaner_!" for the
dirt-dimmed glass obstructed the full glory of the vision not a little.
Poor little creatures! my heart ached with compassion for them and their
hard conditions, while they hung and clung in ecstatic amazement at my
frippery.

The house at Bristol the first night was wretched, my share of it only
L14; here last night it was much better, but I do not yet know the
proceeds of it. Charles Mason has latterly dropped a hint or two about
intending shortly to go to America, so that I dare say he will be quite
prepared to terminate his present arrangement with me.

In the railroad, coming from Bristol to Bath, I met Edward Romilly, a
kind and pleasant acquaintance of mine. I had Liebig's book in my hand,
which he said was rather severe railroad reading, and proceeded to
enlighten me as to the unsoundness of some of the author's positions and
deductions. Now, you know, Edward Romilly married Mrs. Marcet's
daughter, and, I take it for granted, in virtue of such a mother-in-law,
is wise upon natural philosophy; but still, when one's ignorance is as
huge an