nd women are discovering that in
_that_ atmosphere they must henceforth breathe, and live, and move, and
have their being.

But the beginning of a great deal of male freedom is mere emancipation;
and so it will be, I suppose, with women. The drunken exultation of
Caliban is no bad illustration of the emancipation of a slave; and the
ladies, more gracefully intoxicated with the _elixir vitae_ of liberty,
may rejoice no more to "scrape trencher or wash dish," but write books
(more or less foolish) instead.

Do you remember that delightful negro song, the "Invitation to Hayti,"
that used to make you laugh so?

"Brudder, let us leave
Buckra land for Hayti:
Dar we be receive'
Grand as Lafayette!
Make a mighty show,
When we land from steamship,
You be like Monroe,
And I like Louis Philip!"

And when, anticipating the elevation of his noble womankind to the
elegant and luxurious _idlesse_ of the favored white female, the poet
sings:--

"No more dey dust and scrub,
No more dey wash and cookee;
But all day long we see
Dem read the nobel bookee."

(For _read_, read _write_.)

I am beset with engagements; and, though I am very anxious to get away
abroad and rest, it would be both foolish and wrong to reject these
offers of money, tendered me on all sides, _speciously_ with such
_borrowing_ relations as I enjoy. Good-bye, dear.

Ever as ever yours,
FANNY.

[My reading at Eton was a memorably pleasant incident of my working
days. Dr. Hawtrey at first proposed to me to read "Coriolanus;" but
I always read it very ill, and petitioned for some other play,
giving the name of a tragedy, "Macbeth;" a comedy, the "Merry Wives
of Windsor;" and one of the more purely poetical plays, "The
Tempest;" suggesting that the "boys" should vote, and the majority
determine the choice. This seemed a mighty innovation on all
received customs, and was met with numerous objections, which,
however, did not prove insuperable; and "The Tempest," my own
favorite of all Shakespeare's dramas, was chosen by my young
auditors.

A more charming audience to look at I never had than this opening
flower of English boyhood, nor a more delightfully responsive one.

The extraordinary merriment, however, invariably caused by any
mention o