What a delightful letter, and I feel perfectly agonised, not an idea, not a topic, not a word to send you in return. Sir Guy says I may do as I please, so I shall send the Highlands to the right about, and go south to you as soon as the weather is _travellable_, and that we have seen Sir Guy’s old Scotch aunt[147] at Edinburgh. I must see her because she is called “Aunt Christy.” That name, you must acknowledge, is worth a visit. I send you, my Darling, a small Heart with my hair in it. Put it on directly and wear it. I know it is a comfort to have a little something new when one is ill, as I learnt when I had the chicken-pox, and found great benefit in some gilt gingerbread Kings and Queens. Lucy used to bring me them twelve years ago; they were hideous, useless, and not eatable, but still they made a break in the day.... I wish I could instil in you a little of that respect and mystic reverence which I never could feel myself for Doctors, and Pestles and Mortars--that blind devotion which is so necessary to make the stuff efficacious, for by faith we are saved in these cases, as in cases of conscience. I am sorry they have made you have hysterics, and won’t let you have the Elliots, and conversation. That bluff Chilvers,[148] with his Burgomaster appearance, as if he was magistrate of our vitals and poor bowels! I hate him ever since he offered me the insult of a blister, that first blister of hateful memory. Write, or don’t write, as it suits you. Lucy and Sir Guy are such friends, they quite doat on one another, and understand each other. Therefore wipe away all I said for nothing. That is my comfort with you, I can tell you and then scratch it out again as I please, and that is the only way to be constant in this changeable world, to be able to follow the changes of those we love, so as to be always the same with them. _Lady Campbell to Miss Eden._ [BUTE,] _March 15, 1821_. ...We have been a day at Mount Stuart since I wrote, to meet a Sir Gregory and Lady Way--such bores! Oh! no, never. His brother is the great Jew-converter, and has now left his wife and house and estate and is gone a converting-tour into Poland. Some Israelites played him an ungrateful trick. He invited them to his house in Buckinghamshire to render thanks in his private Chapel for their redemption, but alas! they had not cast off their old man, for they stole all Mr. Way’s plate, which he has found it impossible to redeem, they having most probably converted it into money and made off. These people are strictly pious characters, and on Lucy saying she had heard of Mr. Way, Sir Gregory replied: “An instrument, Madam, merely an instrument!” Lady Way is too heavy, and so dressed out--all in a sort of _supprimé_ way, and wears a necklace like a puppy’s collar.... Did you see those pretty nice Feilding children[149] when the Feildings were in London? I hope that nasty woman[150] will not spoil them.