cisely in the manner they
are now said to have begun their career--by the gradual wearing away of
the rock between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie.

We were at the opera the Saturday after you left us; but it was a
mediocre performance, both music and dancing, and gave me but little
pleasure. I went last night again with my father, and was enchanted with
the opera, which was an old favorite, "Tancredi," in which I heard
Persiani, an admirable artist, with a mere golden wire of voice, of
which she made most capital use, and Pauline Garcia, who possesses all
the genius of her family; and between them it was a perfect performance.
The latter is a sister of Malibran's, and will certainly be one of the
finest dramatic singers of these times. But the proximity of people to
me in the stalls is so intolerable that I think I shall give mine up;
for I am in a state of nervous _crawling_ the whole time, with being
pushed and pressed and squeezed and leaned on and breathed on by my
fellow-creatures. You remember my old theory, that we are all of us
surrounded by an atmosphere proper to ourselves, emanating from each of
us,--a separate, sensitive envelope, extending some little distance from
our visible persons. I am persuaded that this is the case, and that when
my _individual atmosphere_ is invaded by any one, it affects my whole
nervous system. The proximity of any _bodies_ but those I love best is
unendurable to my body.

My father is much in the same condition as when you went away, suffering
a great deal, and complaining frequently; but by his desire we have a
dinner-party here on Tuesday, and he has accepted two invitations to
dine out himself. My chicks are pretty well....

May God bless you, dear.

I am ever your own
F. A. B.

CLARGES STREET.

This letter was begun three days ago, and it is now Thursday, March the
25th. Do not, I beseech you, ever make any appeals to my imagination, or
my feelings. I have lost all I ever had of the first, and I never had
any at all of the second....

You ask me if I have been riding. Only once or twice, for I may not do
what I so fain would, give all the visiting to utter neglect, and ride
every day. Yesterday I was on horseback for two hours with Henry, who,
having sold his pretty mare, for L65, to the author of the new comedy at
Covent G