Moreover, it is certain that a woman of parts who has once meddled
with literature will never wholly lose her love for the discussion
of that delicious topic, nor cease to relish what (in the cant of
our new age) is styled "literary shop." For these reasons I attempt
to convey to you some inkling of the present state of that agreeable
art which you, madam, raised to its highest pitch of perfection.

As to your own works (immortal, as I believe), I have but little
that is wholly cheering to tell one who, among women of letters, was
almost alone in her freedom from a lettered vanity. You are not a
very popular author: your volumes are not found in gaudy covers on
every bookstall; or, if found, are not perused with avidity by the
Emmas and Catherines of our generation. 'Tis not long since a blow
was dealt (in the estimation of the unreasoning) at your character
as an author by the publication of your familiar letters. The
editor of these epistles, unfortunately, did not always take your
witticisms, and he added others which were too unmistakably his own.
While the injudicious were disappointed by the absence of your
exquisite style and humour, the wiser sort were the more convinced
of your wisdom. In your letters (knowing your correspondents) you
gave but the small personal talk of the hour, for them sufficient;
for your books you reserved matter and expression which are
imperishable. Your admirers, if not very numerous, include all
persons of taste, who, in your favour, are apt somewhat to abate the
rule, or shake off the habit, which commonly confines them to but
temperate laudation.

'Tis the fault of all art to seem antiquated and faded in the eyes
of the succeeding generation. The manners of your age were not the
manners of to-day, and young gentlemen and ladies who think Scott