Leigh Hunt letter to Elizabeth Kent, September 1, 1824

              Florence-- Sept. 1, 1824. 
Dearest Bebs, 
I have received your letter, & was startled to find how long it had been since I had written; but when you hear that I have been writing a long set of "Prayers & Meditations for the use of those who are not of any of the Established Religious Opinions," which I felt it my duty to do, & which has half killed me, I shall be forgiven.  /Your letter has given me great -----/ Add to this, that we have no longer any
female servant, so that I help to nurse the child, & that my brother's refusal to insert the W. Caps every week, has put me upon the necessity of /seeking/ accepting employment elsewhere, in order to add to my annuity of f100 a year, & you will, I am sure, put the kindest and least melancholy construction upon every thing I have said & shall say, if it be only to make the burden of all our common anxieties as little as possible.  I would have given a great deal to be able to answer your letter on the spot.  These long posts are frightful things, when the feelings are concerned.  But
patience—patience.  This is my old lesson, & I /---/ am obliged to /---/ practise it still.—  You are very much in the wrong, if you suppose that any thing is in the way of your journey[1] as far as concerns Marianne.  She was disconcerted indeed at your taking no notice of her in your letter, except by what seemed to imply a horror of /being/ having any thing to do with her needle—work.  Needle—work is a thing for which she herself has much less respect than formerly, though she is still forced to attend to it.  But she is quite persuaded as well as myself that you could have been of pleasanter service to us, than in that manner; and /---/ with regard to your long-standing affection for those
she loves, —aware too as she has long been of the extraordinary circumstances under which it was encouraged by that  most extraordinary person,[2] who I had hoped
  [Continued from Page 4]   we are all in one at present.  Why do you not take a confidant—I will not say, /of/ in this matter, of your friend Miss Rose, for I believe she was always of a different opinion with you on these points,—or of your new friend Mrs. Williams, who expresses a great regard for you, & might help us all to an opinion?—  Write to me at all events, very speedily, & very tranquilly & nobly, that I may see what you can do under such a dilemma in your best manner, & this will be a guide to myself such as will be of service either way.  Be sincere with me yourself, at the same time, in your turn; & tell me if it be in your power to hope nothing.  We are all weak, more or less; & in a thousand things are we all ignorant.  Therefore must we all help one another, & make no single one responsible for any measure necessary for the many, if it be inevitable.  Your anxious & ever affectionate friend.--
  [Writing continues in between previous lines]   Do not be uneasy about my affairs.  I have had a fourth offer from Colburn to write for the New Monthly Magazine, which by the way looks well for my present standing with the public, whatever the W. Caps may say; & I hope I shall receive considerable additional profit from it.  Go to Novello directly, & he will shew you a long statement, which Mr. Brown has had the kindness to draw up about my affairs; by which you will see the whole state of them.  By the way, Mr. B. knows nothing of the question pending between you & me, & never speaks of you but with respect & regard.  I believe I told you he was a great admirer of your book.  He likes indeed both your books[4] & is himself writing a long fairy-tale.  You must know after all, that I think your little book beats your large one.  "Lily & Giddy" are /famous/ "familiar in our mouths as household words."  The children growing up are prepared to like the writer exceedingly, & I can tell you, would be very much astonished if they beheld any temper in her unworthy of her /---/ volume.—