well again. Emma and her sister Harriet are gone to
Theobalds Park, and Charles is gone to Barnet to cure his headache,
which a good old lady has talked him into. She came on Thursday and left
us yesterday evening. I mean she was Mrs. Paris, with whom Emma's aunt
lived at Cambridge, and she had so much to [tell] her about Cambridge
friends, and to [tell] us about London ditto, that her tongue was never
at rest through the whole day, and at night she took Hood's Whims and
Oddities to bed with her and laught all night. Bless her spirits! I wish
I had them and she were as mopey as I am. Emma came on Monday, and the
week has passed away I know not how. But we have promised all the week
that we should go and see the Picture friday or saturday, and stay a
night or so with you. Friday came and we could not turn Mrs. Paris out
so soon, and on friday evening the thing was wholly given up. Saturday
morning brought fresh hopes; Mrs. Paris agreed to go to see the picture
with us, and we were to walk to Edmonton. My Hat and my _new gown_ were
put on in great haste, and his honor, who decides all things here, would
have it that we could not get to Edmonton in time; and there was an end
of all things. Expecting to see you, I did not write.

Monday evening.

Charles and Emma are taking a second walk. Harriet is gone home. Charles
wishes to know more about the Widow. Is it to be made to match a
drawing? If you could throw a little more light on the subject, I think
he would do it, when Emma is gone; but his time will be quite taken up
with her; for, besides refreshing her Latin, he gives her long lessons
in arithmetic, which she is sadly deficient in. She leaves in a week,
unless she receives a renewal of her holydays, which Mrs. Williams has
half promised to send her. I do verily believe that I may hope to pass
the last one, or two, or three nights with you, as she is to go from
London to Bury. We will write to you the instant we receive Mrs. W.'s
letter. As to my poor sonnet--and it is a very poor sonnet, only [it]
answered very well the purpose it was written for--Emma left it behind
her, and nobody remembers more than one line of it, which is, I think,
sufficient to convince you it would make no great impression in an
Annual. So pray let it rest in peace, and I will make Charles write a
better one instead.

This shall go to the Post to-night. If any [one] chooses to add anything
to it they may. It will glad my heart to see you ag