ial sufficiency and morality, can be accomplished, except through
the ancient religion of Christ; . . . or whether, the principles of
eclecticism are legitimately applicable to the Gospel; or whether, if
we find ourselves in a state of incapacity to work through the Church,
we can remedy the defect by the adoption of principles contrary to
hers . . .

But indeed I am most unfit to pursue the subject; private
circumstances of no common interest are upon me, as I have become very
recently engaged to Miss Glynne, and I hope your recollections will
enable you in some degree to excuse me.

Lord Jeffrey has a very curious and suggestive letter on popular
education, in which he denies, or at least doubts, the effect of this
education on morals. He, however, supports it on the ground 'that it
will increase the enjoyment of individuals,' which is certainly a very
sensible claim. Humboldt writes to her about an old Indian language
which was preserved by a parrot, the tribe who spoke it having been
exterminated, and about 'young Darwin,' who had just published his first
book. Here are some extracts from her own letters:

I heard from Lord Lansdowne two or three days ago. . . . I think he
is ce que nous avons de mieux. He wants only the energy that great
ambition gives. He says, 'We shall have a parliament of railway
kings' . . . what can be worse than that?--The deification of money by
a whole people. As Lord Brougham says, we have no right to give
ourselves pharisaical airs. I must give you a story sent to me. Mrs.
Hudson, the railway queen, was shown a bust of Marcus Aurelius at Lord
Westminster's, on which she said, 'I suppose that is not the present
Marquis.' To gouter this, you must know that the extreme vulgar
(hackney coachmen, etc.) in England pronounce 'marquis' very like
'Marcus.'

Dec, 11th.--Went to Savigny's. Nobody was there but W. Grimm and his
wife and a few men. Grimm told me he had received two volumes of
Norwegian fairy-tales, and that they were delightful. Talking of
them, I said, 'Your children appear to be the happiest in the world;
they live in the midst of fairytales.' 'Ah,' said he, 'I must tell
you about that. When we were at Gottingen, somebody spoke to my
little son about his father's Mahrchen. He had read them, but never
thought of their being mine. He came running to me, and said with an
offende