My dear Charley,

We want to hear from you again, to tell us how you are going on, and whether you have settled yourself comfortably by this time.— I suppose you received the Box all safe.— We have been living as quiet as mice lately,—and I hope you also have at last begun to be really quiet, which I know is what you most wish for.— It is so horridly cold, that one is nearly frozen up by it, and you must long for your Patagonian Dresses again.— Erasmus wrote us an account that Miss Martineau’s soirée turned out most brilliant;—the principal Lions were M^rs Butler, and a M^r Carlyle and his Wife; he writes all the articles on German Literature, in the Foreign Quarterly,¹ and she is a little woman, with a profusion of hair, one of Erasmus’ married loves.— Neither Erasmus nor M^r Empson² appear to have at all admired M^rs Butler;—and say she looked as if she was acting Juliet.— It was very odd the Hensleighs were not at that Party.— I heard from Fanny Hensleigh the other day, who says that she & Hensleigh find your Journal so interesting, that it is quite difficult to stop to criticize.— You have settled nothing more on that subject of course; and by the bye, have you ever heard from the Capt lately? I do believe he has jilted Mary O’Brien after all, as I have never seen his marriage in the Paper.— We heard through Maer the other day, that Hensleigh had been to see your Bones at the College of Surgeons, and that the unique head was lying in a room with workmen; which certainly ought not to be;— can you do any thing about it?—

I think Caroline wrote last to you; did she tell you what a capital Concert we had at the Theatre here— How I wish you had been at it, for I am sure you would have liked it. Caradori’s³ singing was beautiful, but the best performer was Ole Bull⁴ on the Violin, who I think very superior to Paganini; I met young Corfield⁵ there, and he told me to tell you that the M^r Thompson, who married Lady Fitzwilliam is not your friend, as he is not a Fellow Commoner, and his name is Henry, not Leonard.—

I was at Woodhouse, about ten days ago, for an Ellesmere Ball, and met Fanny Biddulph there; M^r Biddulph was out on a shooting party, so I saw her, and her charming little girl quite comfortably; she is better than when you saw her; you cannot think how much she admired your beautiful flowers; I wish you could have heard how thoroughly she & all the young Ladies there admired their beauty;—and I am sure dear Fanny was very much pleased by your remembrance of her.— She is going to write to you soon, and will send the note here for me to forward on to you; & she declares she will begin “my dear M^r Charles” as she says, you wrote her such a formal note, beginning, “my dear M^rs Biddulph”.— I wore my pretty flowers also one night at Woodhouse, which were very much admired indeed.

You will envy me, when you hear that I brought back your Beauty, Miss Boughey with me in the Phaeton, to Bicton.— Mr Smythe was at Woodhouse also, who is supposed to be desperately in love with her, but I did not see much signs of it.—⁶

Goodbye, dear Charley— Pray write to us, as we long to hear from you. Yrs ever, Catherine.—

Papa will place to your account next week, 1^st of January, 50£, half year’s allowance, and 51£, half year’s interest due.—