You see we are in London after all, and poor Sidmouth left afar. I
am almost inclined to say 'poor us' instead of 'poor Sidmouth.' But
I dare say I shall soon be able to see in my dungeon, and begin to be
amused with the spiders. Half my soul, in the meantime, seems to have
stayed behind on the seashore, which I love more than ever now that I
cannot walk on it in the body. London is wrapped up like a mummy, in
a yellow mist, so closely that I have had scarcely a glimpse of its
countenance since we came. Well, I am trying to like it all very much,
and I dare say that in time I may change my taste and my senses--and
succeed. We are in a house large enough to hold us, for four months,
at the end of which time, if the experiment of our being able to live
in London succeed, I _believe_ that papa's intention is to take an
unfurnished house and have his furniture from Ledbury. You may wonder
at me, but I wish that were settled _so_, and _now_. I am _satisfied_
with London, although I cannot enjoy it. We are not likely, in the
case of leaving it, to return to Devonshire, and I should look with
weary eyes to another strangership and pilgrimage even among green
fields that know not these fogs. Papa's object in settling here refers
to my brothers. George will probably enter as a barrister student at
the Inner Temple on the fifth or sixth of this month, and he will
have the advantage of his home by our remaining where we are. Another
advantage of London is, that we shall see here those whom we might see
nowhere else. This year, dear Mrs. Martin, may it bring with it the
true pleasure of seeing _you_! Three have gone, and we have not seen
you.... May God bless you and all that you care for, being with you
always as the God of consolation and peace.

Your affectionate
E.B. BARRETT.