llow the destiny
of the chimney. Altogether there is every reasonable probability
that the whole house will in the course of next winter be as like
Persepolis as anything so ugly can be! If another house which will fit
us can be found in Sidmouth, I am sure papa will take it; but, as he
said the other day, 'If I can't find a house, I must go.' I hope he
may find one, and as near the sea as this ruin. I have enjoyed its
moonlight and its calmness all the summer; and am prepared to enjoy
its tempestuousness of the winter with as true an enjoyment. What we
shall do ultimately, I do not even dream; and, if I know papa, _he_
does not. My visions of the future are confined to 'what shall I
write or read next,' and 'when shall we next go out in the boat,' and
_they_, you know, can do no harm to anybody. Of one thing I have a
comforting certainty--that wherever we may go or stay, the decree
which moves or fixes us will and must be the 'wisest virtuousest
discreetest best!' ...

So, I will change the subject to myself. You told me that you were
going to read my book, and I want to know what you think of it. If you
were given to compliment and insincerity, I should be afraid of asking
you; because, among other _evident_ reasons, I might then appear to
be asking for your praise instead of your opinion. As it is--I want to
know what you think of my book. Is the translation stiff? If you know
me at all (and I venture to hope that you do) you will be certain that
I shall _like_ your honesty, and love you for being honest, even if
you put on the very blackest of black caps....

Of course you know that the late Bill has ruined the West Indians.
That is settled. The consternation here is very great. Nevertheless I
am glad, and always shall be, that the negroes are--virtually--free!

May God bless you, dear Mrs. Martin!
Ever believe me, your affectionate
E.B. BARRETT.

_To H.S. Boyd_
Sidmouth: Friday [1834].

My dear Friend,--I don't know how I shall begin to persuade you not to
be angry with me, but perhaps the best plan will be to confess as many
sins as would cover this sheet of paper, and then to go on with my
merits. Certainly I am altogether guiltless of your charge of not
noticing your book's arrival because no Calvinism arrived with it.
I told you the bare truth when I told you _why_ I did not write
immediately. The passage relating to Calvinism I certainly read,
and as certainly was sorry for; but as certainly as both