reat deal of good in every way.

You may suppose what a southern climate this is, when I tell you that
myrtles and verbena, three or four feet high, and hydrangeas are in
flower in the gardens--even in ours, which is about a hundred and
fifty yards from the sea. I have written to the end of my paper. Give
our kindest regards to Mr. Martin, and ever believe me,

Your affectionate and grateful
E.B.B.

[Footnote 11: The Martins' home near Malvern, about a mile from Hope
End.]

[Footnote 12: Her brothers Edward and Septimus.]

_To Mrs. Martin_
[Sidmouth:] Wednesday, September 27, 1832 [postmark].

How very kind of you, dearest Mrs. Martin, to write to me so much at
length and at such a time. Indeed, it was exactly the time when, if
we were where we have been, we should have wished you to walk over
the hill and talk to us; and although, after all that the most zealous
friends of letter writing can say for it, it is _not_ such a happy
thing as talking with those you care for, yet it is the next happiest
thing. I am sure I thought so when I read your letter ...

And now I must tell you about ourselves. Papa and Bro and Sette have
made us so much happier by coming, and we have the comfort of seeing
dear papa in good spirits, and not only satisfied but pleased with
this place. It is scarcely possible, at least it seems so to me, to do
otherwise than admire the beauty of the country. It is the very land
of green lanes and pretty thatched cottages. I don't mean the kind of
cottages which are generally thatched, with pigstyes and cabbages and
dirty children, but thatched cottages with verandas and shrubberies,
and sounds from the harp or piano coming through the windows. When
you stand upon any of the hills which stand round Sidmouth, the whole
valley seems to be thickly wooded down to the very verge of the sea,
and these pretty villas to be springing from the ground almost as
thickly and quite as naturally as the trees themselves. There are
certainly many more houses out of the town than in it, and they all
stand apart, yet near, hiding in their own shrubberies, or behind the
green rows of elms which wall in the secluded lanes on either side.
Such a number of green lanes I never saw; some of them quite black
with foliage, where it is twilight in the middle of the day, and
others letting in beautiful glimpses of the spreading heathy hills
or of the sunny sea. I am sure you would like the transition from the
cliffs, from