_Monday._--I was prevented by a very long ride on Saturday from sending this. I am so grieved to see poor Captain Russell’s[205] death in the paper. It is not formally announced, but I see it in the Ship news mentioned by the captain of some other ship. Perhaps it may not be true, but yet I fear it is. I saw Eliza[206] the other day in her way from Scotland, as I believe I told you, and she talked with such pleasure of her brother George’s promotion. I had a letter from her a fortnight ago delighted that he had escaped the fever which his ship’s company had all had. Poor thing! I am so sorry for her. She was so fond of him, and the unexpected loss of a dearly loved brother is a grief that must, like all others, be endured, but one that, God knows, time itself cannot heal, and hardly mitigate. I wonder where Eliza is now--whether they are gone to Paris. If you hear anything of her or of Captain Russell’s death will you let me know? I suppose everybody feels most for the calamity under which they themselves have suffered, and from my very heart I pity Eliza, and it was impossible not to like Captain Russell for his own sake. Good-bye, dear Theresa. Your ever affectionate E. E. _Miss Eden to Miss Villiers._ HERTINGFORDBURY, [_December_] 1825. I say Theresa, I shall be in Grosvenor Street on Tuesday from twelve to four. Please, if you are in the land of the living, commonly called Knightsbridge, to come and see me and we will talk a few. We (thereby meaning Robert, his wife, and me) arrived here from Derbyshire last night, and are quite delighted with this place. It is a real country place, not like a parsonage, with a little park something in the Irish class of parks, but with fine trees in it and a pretty garden, and everything very nice. We are just come back from our first church here. There are a great many _nervous_ points in a clergyman’s life, and I think the first interview with his parishioners rather awful. I remember the time when I used to think a clergyman’s life the most pitiable thing in the world. I am wiser now, and can see the numerous advantages a man has whose duties and pleasures must necessarily be one and the same thing. Robert preached to-day a sermon I wrote, and to my horror I detected a disguised quotation from Shakespeare in an imposing part of it, which was not obvious till it was read aloud. However, it was probably not very apparent to anybody but myself. I was rather in hopes of seeing you in a corner of the Cowper pew, but it was quite empty. Well, I can’t stay chattering here all day. Your ever affectionate E. EDEN. _Miss Eden to her Sister, Fanny Eden._ LANGLEY FARM, BECKENHAM, KENT, _November 11, 1825_. MY DEAREST FANNY, Begin writing to me again forthwith. I have heard from the Copleys with fresh plans for my going there, so that I should not have been in want of a house.