Lord Lansdowne set off to-day for Middleton. I miss him shockingly. He has crept into my affections in a wonderful degree these last ten days; I have pounded a little nonsense into him. Twice I made him laugh at jokes not worth repeating, and once at his own matter-of-fact method of understanding Fun: in short, our intimacy grew so thick he committed himself far enough to say that he was quite in a childish fidget to see his new Gallery and ceiling--much more anxious about that than about the Meeting of Parliament. And last night the agony he got into fancying he should want all the identical books in this library in Town, and which to take, and the sort of goodbye he bid the volumes, gave me hopes of him. Emmy, you know the brother, William Strangways?[128] He is a curious specimen. He certainly will pack himself up by mistake and send himself as a Fossil to the Geological Society some fine day. I rather like him, he is so good-natured, and so cram full of out of the way information. Another Brother arrived to-day, y-clept Giles.[129] I know nothing of him, and am likely to remain in ignorance, as they go away to-morrow. She and I get on charmingly. I like her more than I ever did, more than I ever thought I could love anybody who has the misfortune of not being one of us. _Miss FitzGerald to Miss Eden._ _March, 1820._ Your letter gave me such delight, the laugh of other days came o’er my soul. My dear, rums is ris, and sugars is fell. My cold is gone, but Aunt is sick, in short, barring myself who am very well thank you, the house is an Hospital. Aunt has been quite ill, shut up, and the Apothecary busy, all over pocket handkerchiefs and Ipecacuanha. All my neighbours far gone in liver complaints and buried in bile, so that I have kept aloof from all, when they did not want me, and we are so very, very quiet here, I almost fancy I must be grown deaf, for I suppose the world is still in a bustle, and going on. No letters, no murder, no crimes. What a _retention_ of correspondence this cessation of franks seems to have caused: when shall we see our wholesome days again? Emkins, Holland will never do. Why? When, shall I see you? Why can’t you stay where you are? Your brother George is like an _âme en peine_; he can’t abide nowhere. I suppose you will like the junket, you Beast.... So you have your Grantham.[130] It is all very well we should allow those sort of people to love us, etc. but they must be kept in their place. How little I saw you in Town, and then you think it my fault and that I won’t dine with you. You don’t know, you cannot know, how I have been bothered about it, not by Aunt alone. In short, there is a bother in our celibacy, that as there is no one to speak as one having authority, the whole herd think they have a right to have a pull at one’s tether, and pin one down to their own fancies.... Emmy, only think Danford is going to-day! A woeful day that such a Dan should go.