without either mental or physical exertion of theirs, is
an inevitable source of moral evil. There was nothing in that book to
shake my opinion that hereditary idleness and luxury are not good for
the country where they exist. An opinion was expressed in general
conversation by almost everybody at Worsley which suggested a conclusion
to my mind that did not appear to occur to any one else. In speaking of
the education of young English boys at our great public schools, the
whole system pursued in those institutions was condemned as bad; but on
all sides, nevertheless, admitted to be better (at any rate, for the
sons of noblemen) than the incessant, base, excessive complaisance and
flattery of their servants and dependents, from which they all said that
it was impossible to screen them in their own homes, and equally
impossible that they should not suffer serious moral evil. Lord Francis
said that for a lad like his nephew, the Marquis of Stafford, there was
but one thing worse than being educated at Eton, and that was being
educated at home; therefore, concluded they all in chorus, we send our
boys to our public schools. So the children are sent away lest they
should be corrupted by the obsequious servants and luxurious habits and
general mode of life of their parents. And this, of course, is one of
the inevitable results of distinctions of classes and hereditary wealth
and influence; it is not one of the good ones, but there are better.

God bless you, dearest Harriet. I wrote to you yesterday, and shall
probably do so again to-morrow.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

HARLEY STREET, LONDON, Sunday, December 26th, 1841.
DEAR HARRIET,

I must tell you a droll little incident that occurred the day of our
leaving Bowood. As I was crossing the great hall, holding little F----
by the hand, Lord Lansdowne and Moore, who were talking at the other
end, came towards me, and, while the former expressed kind regrets at
our departure, Moore took up the child and kissed her, and set her down
again; when she clutched hold of my gown, and trotted silently out of
the hall by my side. As the great red door closed behind us, on our way
to my rooms, she said, in a tone that I thought indicated some stifled
sense of offended dignity, "Pray, mamma, who was dat little dentleman?"
Now, Harriet, though Moore's fame is great, his statur