I have your bright, cheerful letter of Jan. 31st, dear sister, and rejoice in your good spirits. I have not been quite well for a few weeks, suffering from cold—the weather has been so dreadful—so that I have gone out but little; indeed, there seems to be a gloom over everything in the gay line this year. Archbishop Hughes dined with us on his way to the United States. He spoke of remembering me in Washington at uncle’s, where he never saw me, and of course it was you. We have given one large dinner this year, and I am sorry it is time for them to commence. Our old butler, Cates, was ill at the time, and on last Tuesday the honest old creature died. We all felt it very much, as he was a capital servant, and so faithful—my right-hand man. We dined two and twenty on the 10th, English and Americans, and it passed off very well. Wednesday was “fast-day,” and universally unpopular. They said, “we fast for the gross mismanagement by the ministers of our affairs in the Crimea,” and all such things. There is great satisfaction at the czar’s death, and not the same respect paid by the court here that there was in France. Mr. Appleton, our new Secretary, has arrived, and will be presented to her Majesty on Monday. On Thursday, the 29th, will be the first drawing-room. I shall not go. It will not be a full one, as it comes before Easter, and it is rumored that the Emperor and Empress of the French are coming in April. Unless required to present Americans, I shall not go to more than two this year. It is so expensive—one cannot wear the same dress twice. There are usually four during the season. I have given up all idea of returning home before June, and most likely not until uncle does in October; but I highly approve of your plan to pay us a visit upon our return. As to my going to California, you know how I should like it for your sake, but uncle would never hear of my taking such a journey. It is different with you; you return to see _every one_...... April 20th, 1855. I have yours of February 28th, and am delighted to hear you are so snug and comfortable. Uncle positively talks of my return in June, and he has really been so good and kind that if he thinks it best, I must not oppose it. He is not going to charge me with any money I have drawn, makes me a present of my visit here, and has gratified me in every thing. He gives up his house on the 7th of July, and will go to some place in the country, near London. If he kept it until October, he would have to pay for several months more, and it will economize a little to give it up—every thing is so enormous here. I hope you have better luck about getting to church, as I think you have been living very like a heathen. Much obliged for the postage stamps. There are some alterations in the postage law lately; every thing must be prepaid.