d_, as they say [at the beginning of railroad travelling, persons who
still preferred the former method of posting on the high-road were said
to go by land], not choosing to risk her precious body on the railway
without Brunel's personal escort to keep it in order and prevent it from
doing her any accident. He having had the happiness of travelling down
to Bowood with her, which she insisted upon, naturally enough declined
coming all the way down again from London to see her safe home; so not
being able to accomplish his fetching her back to town, she contrived to
extort from him a letter stating that, owing to the late heavy rains,
her journey back to London upon the railroad would probably be both
tedious and uncomfortable, and advising her by all means to go home "by
land," which, considering that the Great Western is his own road--his
iron child, so to speak,--by which he is bound to swear under all
circumstances, is, I think, a pretty good specimen of her omnipotence.

She did post home accordingly, but not without dismal misgivings as to
what might befall her while crossing a wood of Lord Salisbury's, where
she was to be, for a short space of time, seven miles off from any
village or town. I never knew such a terrified, terrible, foolish old
woman in my life.

After all, she is right: life is worth more to very good and to very
good-for-nothing people than to others. My father dined with her in town
while we were away, and in her note of invitation she included us, if we
had returned, saying all manner of civil fine things about me; but, as
far as I am concerned, it won't do, and she cannot put salt upon my
tail....

We returned to town on Friday. Charles Greville saw my father on
Saturday, and says he is, and is looking, very well. Adelaide was gone
down to Addlestone, to see John and his wife. My children--bless
them!--are making such a riot here at my table that I scarcely know what
I am writing.

Good-bye, dearest Harriet. I will write to you again to-morrow.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

_Bowood_, Wednesday, December 22nd, 1841.
_Dearest Harriet_,

I was a "happy woman" at Worsley [a "happy woman" was the term used by
me from my childhood to describe a woman on horseback], and, as
sometimes happens, had even too much of my happiness. My friend Lady
Francis is made of whalebone and in