_Feb 1815._
Our time here has been much more agreeably spent than I had any hopes it
would be. My father has been pleased at some dinners at Mr. Knox's, Mr.
Leslie Foster's, and at the Solicitor-General's. Mrs. Stewart is
admirable, and Caroline Hamilton the most entertaining and agreeable
_good_ person I ever saw; she is as good as any saint, and as gay, and
much gayer, than any sinner I ever happened to see, male or female.
The Beauforts are at Mrs. Waller's: they came up in a hurry, summoned by
a Mrs. Codd, an American, or from America, who has come over to claim a
considerable property, and wants to be identified. She went a journey
when she was thirteen, with Doctor and Mrs. Beaufort and my mother, and
they are the only people in this country who can and will swear _to_ her
and _for_ her. I will tell you when we meet of her entrée with Sir Simon
Bradstreet,--and I will tell you of Honora's treading on the parrot at
Mrs. Westby's party,--and I will tell you of Fenaigle and his ABC. I
think him very stupid. Heaven grant me the power of forgetting his Art
of Memory.
_To_ C.S. EDGEWORTH.