Am I never to hear from you, my dear madam? am I to admire and to love you, and to have received a thousand kindnesses from you, and is it all to end thus?
The day after my arrival, I wrote to you and sent you the songs you flattered me by approving. I sent them by hand, under cover to Mrs. Spencer. Of course, you have received them, and I am reduced to the pleasant alternative of believing that you are ill or I am forgotten. Write me but a single line merely to say, “I am well, and you are remembered,” and I will try and be contented.
Since I have left you, I have been in one continued round
of dissipation. They have actually seized me and carried me off to this little
Versailles by force of arms. I have been on a visit to Judge Crookshank’s. I am now with the
dear Atkinsons, and I have been a day or two with the
Asgills, Alboroughs, and
Arrans, and am now going off to the other side of
| IDA OF ATHENS. | 333 |
I write with Mr. Atkinson at my elbow, waiting to take this into town, and with General Graham and his lady, and twenty more in the room.
A thousand loves to dear Miss Stanley; if you won’t write, perhaps she will. I shall be delighted to hear from either.
