ative period
in Elizabeth Barrett's life. Hitherto she had been living in the home
and among the surroundings of her childhood, absorbing literature
rather than producing it; or if producing it, still mainly for her own
amusement and instruction, rather than with any view of appealing to
the general public. But in 1832 this home was broken up by the sale,
of Hope End,[10] and with the removal thence we seem to find
her embarking definitely on literature as the avowed pursuit and
occupation of her life. Sidmouth in Devonshire was the place to which
the Barrett family now removed, and the letters begin henceforth to be
longer and more frequent, and to tell a more connected tale.

[Footnote 10: Mr. Ingram, in his _Life of E.B. Browning_ ('Eminent
Women' Series) connects this fact with the abolition of colonial
slavery, and a consequent decrease in Mr. Barrett's income; but since
the abolition only took place in 1833, while Hope End was given up in
the preceding year, this conclusion does not appear to be certain.]

_To Mrs. Martin_
[Sidmouth: September 1832.]

How can I thank you enough, dearest Mrs. Martin, for your letter?
How kind of you to write so soon and so very kindly! The postmark and
handwriting were in themselves pleasant sights to me, and the kindness
yet more welcome. Believe that I am grateful to you for _all_ your
kindness--for your kindness now, and your kindness in the days which
are past. Some of those past days were very happy, and some of them
very sorrowful--more sorrowful than even our last days at dear, dear
Hope End. _Then_, I well recollect, though I could not then thank you
as I ought, how you _felt for_ us and _with_ us. Do not think I can
ever forget _that time_, or _you_. I had written a note to you, which
the bearer of Bummy's and Arabel's to Colwall[11] omitted to take.
Afterwards I thought it best to spare you any more farewells, which
are upon human lips, of all words, the most natural, and of all the
most painful.

They told us of our having past your carriage in Ledbury. Dear
Mrs. Martin, I cannot dwell upon the pain of that first hour of our
journey; but you will know what it must have been. The dread of it,
for some hours before, was almost worse; but it is all over now,
blessed be God. Before the first day's journey was at end, we felt
inexpressibly relieved--relieved from the restlessness and anxiety
which have so long oppressed us--and now we are calmer and happier
than we ha