must be attributed to
my mother's too rapid way of getting on: though she perfectly
understands the characters herself, she cannot speak as they ought.
Upon the whole, however, I am quite vain enough and well satisfied
enough. The work is rather too light, and bright, and sparkling; it
wants shade; it wants to be stretched out here and there with a long
chapter of sense, if it could be had; if not, of solemn specious
nonsense, about something unconnected with the story; an essay on
writing, a critique on Walter Scott, or the history of Buonaparte, or
something that would form a contrast, and bring the reader with
increased delight to the playfulness and epigrammatism of the general
style . . . . The greatest blunder in the printing that I have met
with is in page 220, v. 3, where two speeches are made into one. There
might as well be no suppers at Longbourn; but I suppose it was the
remains of Mrs. Bennett's old Meryton habits.'

The following letter seems to have been written soon after the last two:
in February 1813:--

'This will be a quick return for yours, my dear Cassandra; I doubt its
having much else to recommend it; but there is no saying; it may turn
out to be a very long and delightful letter. I am exceedingly pleased
that you can say what you do, after having gone through the whole
work, and Fanny's praise is very gratifying. My hopes were tolerably
strong of _her_, but nothing like a certainty. Her liking Darcy and
Elizabeth is enough. She might hate all the others, if she would. I
have her opinion under her own hand this morning, but your transcript
of it, which I read first, was not, and is not, the less acceptable.
To _me_ it is of course all praise, but the more exact truth which she
sends you is good enough . . . . Our party on Wednesday was not
unagreeable, though we wanted a master of the house less anxious and
fidgety, and more conversable. Upon Mrs. ---'s mentioning that she
had sent the rejected addresses to Mrs. H., I began talking to her a
little about them, and expressed my hope of their having amused her.
Her answer was, "Oh dear yes, very much, very droll indeed, the
opening of the house, and the striking up of the fiddles!" What she
meant, poor woman, who shall say? I sought no farther. As soon as a
whist party was formed, and a round table threatened, I made my mother
an excu