hoop and
powder, and her more flagrant coarseness of speech, Lady Townley is
still as unlike, in manners, language, and deportment, any modern lady,
as she is unlike the woman of fashion of Hogarth's time, whose costume
she has discarded.

The event fully justified my expectation of far less friendly audiences
out of London than those I had hitherto made my appeals to. None of the
personal interest that was felt for me there existed elsewhere, and I
had to encounter the usual opposition, always prepared to cavil, in the
provinces, at the metropolitan verdict of merit, as a mere exhibition of
independent judgment; and to make good to the expectations of the
country critics the highly laudatory reports of the London press, by
which the provincial judges scorned to have a decision imposed upon
them. Not unnaturally, therefore, I found a much less fervid enthusiasm
in my audiences--who were, I dare say, quite justified in their
disappointment--and a far less eulogistic tone in the provincial press
with regard to my performances. Our houses, however, were always very
crowded, which was the essential point, and for my own part I was quite
satisfied with the notices and applause which were bestowed on me. My
cousin, John Mason, was the Romeo to whom I have referred in this
letter. He was my father's sister's son, and, like so many members of
our family, he and one of his brothers and his sister had made the stage
their profession. He had some favorable physical qualifications for it:
a rather striking face, handsome figure, good voice, and plenty of fire
and energy; he was tolerably clever and well-informed, but without
either imagination or refinement. My father, who thought there was the
making of a good actor in him, was extremely kind to him.

GLASGOW, MONDAY, June 28, 1830.
MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON,

I believe that you will have felt too well convinced that I had not
had a moment to spare, to be surprised at my not having sooner
acknowledged your very kind letter; nothing but the incessant
occupation of my time would so long have prevented me from doing
so, but I embrace the opportunity which the king's death affords me
of telling you how much obliged to you I was for writing to me, and
writing as you did. I have little news to return you but what
concerns myself, but I shall make no coquettish excuses about that,
for I really believe