What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps one in a continual state of inelegance.

Next week I shall begin my operations on my hat, on which you know my principal hopes of happiness depend.

I do not want people to be very agreeable, as it saves me the trouble of liking them a great deal.

You deserve a longer letter than this; but it is my unhappy fate seldom to treat people so well as they deserve.

I had a very pleasant evening, however, though you will probably find out that there was no particular reason for it; but I do not think it worth while to wait for enjoyment until there is some real opportunity for it.

Besides, I cannot help thinking that it is more natural to have flowers grow out of the head than fruit.

In Paragon we met Mrs Foley & Mrs Dowdeswell with her yellow shawl airing out—& at the bottom of Kinsdown Hill we met a Gentleman in a Buggy, who on minute examination turned out to be Dr Hall—& Dr Hall in such very deep mourning that either his Mother, his Wife, or himself must be dead.

We have been exceedingly busy ever since you went away. In the first place we have had to rejoice two or three times everyday at your having such very delightful weather for the whole of your journey...

I have now attained the true art of letter-writing, which we are always told, is to express on paper exactly what one would say to the same person by word of mouth.

You will have a great deal of unreserved discourse with Mrs. K., I dare say, upon this subject, as well as upon many other of our family matters. Abuse everybody but me.