ad been very
great, and instanced a fellow-artisan of his own, who said that
Channing's writings had reconciled him to being a working man. Elizabeth
said that Dr. Channing, while reading this letter, was divided between
smiles and tears. She also told me that he had talked to her a good deal
about Mrs. Child (you know, the abolitionist who wanted to publish my
Southern journal; she is a correspondent of his, and a person for whom
he has the highest esteem, regarding her as "a most highly principled
and noble-minded woman.")

I am so tired, dearest Hal, and feel such a general lassitude and
discouragement of mind and body, that I will end my letter. Give my most
affectionate love to Dorothy, whom I should love dearly if I saw her
much. I wish I was with you, seeing the Danube, that river into which
poor Undine carried her immortal soul, and her broken woman's heart,
when she faded over the boat's side, saying, "Be true, be true, oh,
misery!" God bless you, dearest Hal.

Ever yours,
FANNY.

HARLEY STREET, September 16th, 1842.
MY DEAREST HAL,

You ask me what I am doing. Flying about in every direction, like one
distracted, trying to _amuse_ myself; going to evenings at Lady
Lansdowne's, and to mornings at the Duchess of Buccleuch's; dining at
the Star and Garter at Richmond, in gay and great company, and driving
home alone between one and two o'clock in the morning....

I have undertaken to keep and to ride S----'s horse while he is away;
and I think, by means of regular exercise, I shall at any rate keep
_paroxysms_ aloof. I am going to a ball at Lord Foley's on Monday; to a
children's play at the Francis Egertons' on Tuesday; to Richmond again
to dine with the Miss Berrys and Lady Charlotte Lindsay on Wednesday; on
Thursday to dine at Horace Wilson's, etc.... Perhaps you will wonder, as
I do sometimes, that I keep the few senses I have in the life I lead;
but so it is, and so it has to be.

Good-bye. God bless you. I keep this letter till I hear from you where
to send it, and, with dearest love to Dorothy, am

Ever yours,
FANNY.

HARLEY STREET, September 30th, 1842.
MY DEAREST GRANNY [LADY DACRE],

Yesterday morning we drove down to Chesterfiel