Ben Rhydding,
September 10th, 1869.
To Emily.
... Life here has been a great success every way. It is odd, in a place like this, to get on so well; but energy and enjoyment are such a delight to people, they forgive much, where they can secure them and have these. A large picnic party went to Fountains yesterday. They begged me to go. I could not, and said, “I will ask all the people, and, when you are started, you really won’t want me.” “Oh,” said a young, buoyant Quaker youth, “but we do want you to talk.” ... In pity also give me some more teaching; it is the only anchor I have, and I shall be destroyed by dissipation if you don’t preserve me. Oh dear, I have been writing three hours; and I did so want to do my miniature; for you don’t know how much I want to finish it.
ALARM AT HER OWN FAME
6, Clifton Villas,
Bradford,
September 17th, 1869.
To Emily.
To-night there is to be a dinner party here. Dr. Bridges and several influential people are asked to meet me;—I do feel such a take-in of a person. I wish someone would explode me; it is so difficult to un-humbug oneself. It is all taken for extreme modesty (fancy mine!) and laid to one’s account as so much excellence. A Mr. and Mrs. R. K., who are looked upon as great guns, are giving a dinner party in my honour. Really it’s very ridiculous; what I am glad of is that I am going to see Saltaire, a model village near here which has grown up round a manufactory, belonging to a Mr. Titus (now Sir Titus) Salt; no beer shops there, only model cottages, schools, etc.... I’m very happy, and as bright as can be; but save me from this again! I’m going to settle down to a steady, quiet old age, if ever the happy time arrives when I reach home.