STEVENTON, Thursday (November 20, 1800).
MY DEAR CASSANDRA,--Your letter took me quite by surprise this morning;
you are very welcome, however, and I am very much obliged to you. I
believe I drank too much wine last night at Hurstbourne; I know not how
else to account for the shaking of my hand to-day. You will kindly make
allowance therefore for any indistinctness of writing, by attributing it
to this venial error.
Naughty Charles did not come on Tuesday, but good Charles came yesterday
morning. About two o'clock he walked in on a Gosport hack. His feeling
equal to such a fatigue is a good sign, and his feeling no fatigue in it
a still better. He walked down to Deane to dinner; he danced the whole
evening, and to-day is no more tired than a gentleman ought to be.
Your desiring to hear from me on Sunday will, perhaps, bring you a more
particular account of the ball than you may care for, because one is
prone to think much more of such things the morning after they happen,
than when time has entirely driven them out of one's recollection.
It was a pleasant evening; Charles found it remarkably so, but I cannot
tell why, unless the absence of Miss Terry, towards whom his conscience
reproaches him with being now perfectly indifferent, was a relief to
him. There were only twelve dances, of which I danced nine, and was
merely prevented from dancing the rest by the want of a partner. We
began at ten, supped at one, and were at Deane before five. There were
but fifty people in the room; very few families indeed from our side of
the county, and not many more from the other. My partners were the two
St. Johns, Hooper, Holder, and a very prodigious Mr. Mathew, with whom I
called the last, and whom I liked the best of my little stock.
There were very few beauties, and such as there were were not very
handsome. Miss Iremonger did not look well, and Mrs. Blount was the
only one much admired. She appeared exactly as she did in September,
with the same broad face, diamond bandeau, white shoes, pink husband,
and fat neck. The two Miss Coxes were there; I traced in one the remains
of the vulgar, broad-featured girl who danced at Enham eight years ago;
the other is refined into a nice, composed-looking girl, like Catherine
Bigg. I looked at Sir Thomas Champneys, and thought of poor Rosalie; I
looked at his daughter, and thought her a queer animal with a white
neck. Mrs. Warren I was constrained to think a very fine young woman,
which I much regret. She danced away with great activity. Her husband is
ugly enough, uglier even than his cousin John; but he does not look so
_very_ old. The Miss Maitlands are both prettyish, very like Anne, with
brown skins, large dark eyes, and a good deal of nose. The General has
got the gout, and Mrs. Maitland the jaundice. Miss Debary, Susan, and
Sally, all in black, but without any statues, made their appearance, and
I was as civil to them as circumstances would allow me. . . .
Mary said that I looked very well last night. I wore my aunt's gown and
handkerchief, and my hair was at least tidy, which was all my ambition.
I will now have done with the ball, and I will moreover go and dress for
dinner. . . .
Farewell; Charles sends you his best love, and Edward his worst. If you
think the distinction improper, you may take the worst yourself. He
will write to you when he gets back to his ship, and in the mean time
desires that you will consider me as
Your affectionate sister, J. A.
_Friday._--I have determined to go on Thursday, but of course not before
the post comes in. Charles is in very good looks indeed. I had the
comfort of finding out the other evening who all the fat girls with long
noses were that disturbed me at the First H. ball. They all proved to be
Miss Atkinsons of En--[_illegible_].
I rejoice to say that we have just had another letter from our dear
Frank. It is to you, very short, written from Larnica in Cyprus, and so
lately as October 2. He came from Alexandria, and was to return there in
three or four days, knew nothing of his promotion, and does not write
above twenty lines, from a doubt of the letter's ever reaching you, and
an idea of all letters being opened at Vienna. He wrote a few days
before to you from Alexandria by the "Mercury," sent with despatches to
Lord Keith. Another letter must be owing to us besides this, one if not
two; because none of these are to me. Henry comes to-morrow, for one
night only.
My mother has heard from Mrs. E. Leigh. Lady Saye and Seale and her
daughter are going to remove to Bath. Mrs. Estwick is married again to
a Mr. Sloane, a young man under age, without the knowledge of either
family. He bears a good character, however.
Miss AUSTEN,
Godmersham Park, Faversham, Kent.