Mind that, girls, and don’t marry rashly. Yours, and a day no more foolish than yourself, AUCKLAND. _Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_. EDEN FARM, _March_ 9 [1815]. MY DEAREST SISTER, As the Queen has been so uncivil and even spiteful to me and my sattin gown, as to put off the drawing-room, our three letters per day upon dress may now cease, and this is merely a letter of thanks for all the trouble you have taken with Wynne, Pontet, lace, notes, hoops, drapery, sattin, carriers, feathers, jewels, etc., and which have unluckily, by this strange and unaccountable spitefulness of H.M., all proved useless. Poor Beckenham is gone mad about the corn laws,[43] and have revenged themselves on poor innocent harmless out-of-the-way George, by drawing him on the walls hanging as comfortably as possible, and Mr. Cator on another gibbet opposite to him. Mr. Colvile[44] is also hanging somewhere else.... Every house and wall is covered with mottoes, and “No corn laws” in every direction. Ever your affectionate, E. EDEN. _Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_. EDEN FARM, _June_ 24 [1815]. MY DEAREST SISTER, We had not expected the satisfaction of two letters from you to-day.... A letter that condescends to speak of two housemaids, without talking of battles and Bonaparte, is a very delightful novelty, as I am quite tired of rejoicing and lamenting over this news[45] which, upon the whole, strikes me as very melancholy, though I know that is a very wrong feeling. There have yet been no accounts of poor Lady Delancey![46] She must have had a horrible shock at first, as Sir William, believing himself to be dying, refused at first to be removed from the field of battle, which gave rise to the report of his death. Poor Lady I. Hay quitted London at six yesterday morning to inform her father,[47] who was in the country, of Lord Hay’s death. He was not more than nineteen, and was a friend of Bob’s at Eton. The George Elliots[48] came here to dinner yesterday, with their youngest child, who is a very fine child, and as a baby, I thought its name might be interesting to you, though it was not very different from other children, except that it had, on its cap a lilac satin cockade,[49] which is naturally a very pretty thing, though a baby sewed to it does not add to its beauty. That is, however, a mere matter of taste. Mrs. G. Elliot we all like, and she has full as much sense as the rest of the world, and would be as pleasant, if her manner was not rather hurried and rough, evidently from shyness and a fear of being thought dull. Except these, we have not seen anybody, not even a neighbour, nor do I believe there are such things as neighbours left in the world, and it is much too hot to go and look for them if they are yet alive. Mrs. Green, poor woman, seems to think you a little dull, but I always told you how it would be when you lost me, and I am glad to see Mrs. Green has so much penetration. Ever your affectionate sister, E. EDEN.