in which opinion, as you will believe, I do
not agree.

Thank you for your account of your visit to Wroxton Abbey [the seat
of the Earl of Guilford]; it interested me very much; trees are not
to me, as they seem to be to you, the most striking and beautiful
of all natural objects, though I remember feeling a good deal of
pain at the cutting down of a particular tree that I was very fond
of.

At the entrance of Weybridge was a deserted estate and dilapidated
mansion, Portmore Park, once a royal domain, through which the
river ran and where we used to go constantly to fish. There was a
remarkably beautiful cedar tree whose black boughs spread far over
the river, and whose powerful roots, knotted in every variety of
twist, formed a cradle from which the water had gradually washed
away the earth. Here I used to sit, or rather lie, reading, or
writing sometimes, while the others pursued their sport, and
enjoying the sound and sight of the sparkling water which ran
undermining my bed and singing treacherous lullabies to me the
while. For two years this tree was my favorite haunt; the third, on
our return to Weybridge from London, on my running to the
accustomed spot, I found the hitherto intercepted sun staring down
upon the water and the bank, and a broad, smooth, white _tabula
rasa_ level with the mossy turf, which was all that remained of my
cedar canopy; and though it afforded an infinitely more commodious
seat than the twisted roots, I never returned there again.

To-morrow we dine with the F----s, and there is to be a dance in
the evening; on Wednesday I act Constance; Thursday there is a
charade party at the M----s'; Friday I play Mrs. Beverley; and
Monday and Wednesday next, Camiola. I hope by and by to act Camiola
very well, but I am afraid the play itself can never become
popular; the size of the theater and the public taste of the
present day are both against such pieces; still, the attempt seemed
to me worth making, and if it should prove successful we might
revive one or two more of Massinger's plays; they are such sterling
stuff compared with the Isabellas, the Jane Shores, the everything
but Shakespeare. You saw in my journal what I think about Camiola.
I endeavor as much as I can to soften her, and if I can manage to
do so I