The Letters of Jane Austen: Selected from the compilation of her great nephew, Edward, Lord BradbourneAusten, Jane
General
The Letters of Jane Austen: Selected from the compilation of her great nephew, Edward, Lord Bradbourne
Austen, Jane
Austen, Cassandra, 1773-1845; Austen, Jane, 1775-1817 -- Correspondence; Novelists, English -- 19th century -- Correspondence
I have a great mind to send him all the twelve copies which were to have
been dispersed among my near connections, beginning with the P. R.[2]
and ending with Countess Morley. Adieu.
Yours affectionately,
J. AUSTEN.
Give my love to Cassy and Mary Jane. Caroline will be gone when this
reaches you.
Miss AUSTEN.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] Characters in Miss Burney's "Evelina."
[37] Prince Regent.
LXXI.
HANS PLACE, Saturday (Dec. 2).
MY DEAR CASSANDRA,--Henry came back yesterday, and might have returned
the day before if he had known as much in time. I had the pleasure of
hearing from Mr. T. on Wednesday night that Mr. Seymour thought there
was not the least occasion for his absenting himself any longer.
I had also the comfort of a few lines on Wednesday morning from Henry
himself, just after your letter was gone, giving so good an account of
his feelings as made me perfectly easy. He met with the utmost care and
attention at Hanwell, spent his two days there very quietly and
pleasantly, and being certainly in no respect the worse for going, we
may believe that he must be better, as he is quite sure of being
himself. To make his return a complete gala, Mr. Haden was secured for
dinner. I need not say that our evening was agreeable.
But you seem to be under a mistake as to Mr. H. You call him an
apothecary. He is no apothecary; he has never been an apothecary; there
is not an apothecary in this neighborhood,--the only inconvenience of
the situation, perhaps,--but so it is; we have not a medical man within
reach. He is a Haden, nothing but a Haden, a sort of wonderful
nondescript creature on two legs, something between a man and an angel,
but without the least spice of an apothecary. He is, perhaps, the only
person not an apothecary hereabouts. He has never sung to us. He will
not sing without a pianoforte accompaniment.
Mr. Meyers gives his three lessons a week, altering his days and his
hours, however, just as he chooses, never very punctual, and never
giving good measure. I have not Fanny's fondness for masters, and Mr.
Meyers does not give me any longing after them. The truth is, I think,
that they are all, at least music-masters, made of too much consequence,
and allowed to take too many liberties with their scholars' time.
We shall be delighted to see Edward on Monday, only sorry that you must
be losing him. A turkey will be equally welcome with himself. He must
prepare for his own proper bedchamber here, as Henry moved down to the
one below last week; he found the other cold.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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