“I have to inform you, my dearest Fanny, that Henry has been down to Portsmouth to see you; that he had a delightful walk with you to the dockyard last Saturday (though, with those tedious mummified things there, as he says, I dare imagine, it might have been little time for a lover’s exchange), and one still more to be dwelt on the next day, on the ramparts; when the balmy air, the sparkling sea, and your sweet looks and conversation were altogether in the most delicious harmony, and afforded sensations which are to raise ecstasy even in retrospect. This, as well as I understand, is to be the substance of my information. He makes me write, but I do not know what else is to be communicated, except this said visit to Portsmouth, and these two said walks, and his introduction to your family, especially to a fair sister of yours, a fine girl of fifteen, who was of the party on the ramparts, taking her first lesson, I presume, in love.

“I have not time for writing much, but this could not be delayed. My dear, dear Fanny, if I had you here, how I would talk to you! You should listen to me till you were tired, and advise me; but it is impossible to put a hundredth part of my mind on paper, so I will abstain altogether, and leave you to guess what you like. I have no news for you. I ought to have sent you an account of your cousin’s first party, but I was lazy, and now it is too long ago. Suffice it, that everything was just as it ought to be, in grand impeccable style, and that her own dress and manners did her the greatest credit—though at some point our poor Mr. Rushworth was seen to growl and howl outright, in a particularly unseemly manner, and it was talked of. My friend, Mrs. Fraser, is mad for such a house, and it would not make me miserable. I go to Lady Stornaway after Easter. Lord S. is not half as ill-looking as I used to think—at least, one sees many worse. He will not do by the side of your cousin Edmund.

“Of the last-mentioned hero, what shall I say? If I avoided his name entirely, it would look suspicious. We have seen him two or three times, and my friends here are very much struck with his gentlemanlike appearance. Mrs. Fraser declares she knows but three men in town who have so good a person, height, and air. And I must confess, when he dined here the other day, there were none to compare with him, and we were a party of sixteen. Luckily there is no distinction of dress nowadays to tell tales, but—but—but Yours affectionately.”