What I would give for a talk with you--that you might put it all in a cheerful light. It makes no difference in our affection or _communion_ that has stood the test of such long absence that 14,000 miles more will not break it down. I am going to-morrow for ten days to Mary [Drummond]; she is in a desperate way about our plans.... By all means stick an “Eden” into your child’s name. Your most affectionate E. E. _Miss Eden to Lady Campbell_. ADMIRALTY, _[August] 1835._ MY DEAREST PAM, Our letters crossed, and yours was just what I wanted, and you are as great a dear as ever, only I am never to be allowed to see you.... A week ago we began our preparations. You do not and cannot guess what that is--and I have despaired of writing you even a line--I never knew before _really_ what it was to have no time. And besides the deep-seated real Indian calamity, you cannot think what a whirl and entanglement buying and measuring and trying on makes in one’s brain; and poor Goliath himself would have been obliged to lie down and rest if he had tried on six pairs of stays consecutively. We sometimes are three hours at a time shopping, and I could fling myself down and scratch the floor like a dog that is trying to make a feather bed of the boards when I come home. It is so irritating to want so many things and such cold articles. A cargo of _large fans_; a _silver busk_, because all steel busks become rusty and spoil the stays; nightdresses with short sleeves, and net nightcaps, because muslin is too hot. Then such anomalies--quantities of flannel which I never wear at all in this cool climate, but which we are to wear at night there, because the creatures who are pulling all night at the Punkahs sometimes fall asleep. Then you wake from the extreme heat and call to them, then they wake and begin pulling away with such fresh vigour that you catch your death with a sudden chill. What a life! However, it is no use thinking about it. My present aim in writing is to ask whether there is not anybody in or near Dublin who can make a sketch of you, something in the Edridge[428] or Slater line, not very extravagant in price, and if you do not mind, sitting for it for me. I will send its price by Lord Morpeth, when he goes, and you must send it me either by a private hand, or if not, we can have it sent under cover to George, if it is carefully packed. Will you? What do you think of the Lords? It is hardly possible to conceive such hopeless folly, and it is clear that they are the only living animals that cannot learn experience. We shall be off in less than a month I believe, not that I believe anything somehow,--I feel too dreamy and bewildered. Your ever affect. E. E. _Miss Eden to her Sister, Mrs. Drummond._ ADMIRALTY, _Saturday [September 1835]._