not reach us in time to be inserted in due order. The subject here appears to be a wedding.

"Twice, my dearest———, when I have been about writing, finding I had been forestalled by———'s prolific pen, and knowing nothing is so tedious as a tale twice told, I have delayed my infliction till our news had either been told long enough to be forgotten, or something actually new had occurred. Expect from me only such a letter as might be published in the fashions for the month. I have lived in an atmosphere of silk, where the earth was satin, and the sky was blonde. Skirts in full plaits all round are no longer connected in my mind with a Dutchwoman. I despise any dress whose circumference is not like that of Grosvenor-square; by-the-by, I made the other day a suggestion, for which I have some thoughts of taking out a patent—we have all heard of beds inflated with air, (would it not be very poetical sleeping in them, like reclining on a cloud?) could not the invention be advantageously employed in dress?—indeed, I have no doubt that a petticoat trimmed with fixed air will be indispensable. Nothing has saved me from having a bilious fever, i. e. a nervous one, i. e. an envious one, but that one pretty thing has put another out of my head. In the multitude of dresses, as of councillors, there has been safety—who ever heard of dying for love of a dozen? and I really cannot make up my mind which dress to prefer. I have, however, come to this conclusion, that it would be a very fine thing to be married if it were not for the husband! . . . . I had a most delightful visit to Tunbridge Wells, where I passed two days, both in going and returning, at———'s, whose name you will, no doubt, recollect as one of our sweetest poets; his wife is