From M. I. Snow 29 [November 1872 or later]1
The Down Wood, | Blandford.
〈 〉m〈b〉er 29th.
〈Wh〉en I am playing 〈o〉n the piano, and anyone 〈co〉mes, and looks over me; 〈I〉 am afraid they will 〈loo〉k at my hands, and 〈I〉 am so afraid of their 〈being〉 red that they blush, 〈though they〉—were not red [before.]2
When my governess spoke of my hands 〈 〉 being long or able 〈to〉 stretch, or drew a〈ttention〉 to them, they 〈blushed.〉 I once said this to 〈 〉 I forget who, I think on〈e〉 of my governesses, she said “Oh yes, of co〈urse〉 everyone blushes in th〈eir〉 hands.”
I hope you will not think I am trying to hoax 〈you〉 because I could 〈not〉 do such a thing, and 〈w〉ould be disgusted 〈at〉 anyone who did.
Yr. truly | Maria Isabella Snow.
〈I〉 used to feel my hands 〈ge〉tting redder and redder, 〈the〉 more they were looked 〈at〉 I say they “used” 〈 〉ise since I left the 〈 〉room, I never play 〈 〉, so I have not seen it lately—
Describes her experiences of blushing on her hands.
Please cite as
Darwin Correspondence Project, “Letter no. 13842,” accessed on 30 March 2017, http://www.darwinproject.ac.uk/DCP-LETT-13842