LETTERS OF JANE AUSTEN
may now, for I believe Mr. Evelyn has all his life thought more of horses than of anything else. Their colour is black and their size not large; their price sixty guineas, of which the chair mare was taken as fifteen—but this is of course to be a secret.
Mrs. Williams need not pride herself upon her knowledge of Dr. Mapleton’s success here; she knows no more than everybody else knows in Bath. There is not a physician in the place who writes so many prescriptions as he does. I cannot help wishing that Edward had not been tied down to Dr. Fellowes, for, had he come disengaged, we should all have recommended Dr. Mapleton; my uncle and aunt as earnestly as ourselves. I do not see the Miss Mapletons very often, but just as often as I like; we are always very glad to meet, and I do not wish to wear out our satisfaction.
Last Sunday we all drank tea in Paragon; my uncle is still in his flannels, but is getting better again.
On Monday Mr. Evelyn was well enough for us to fulfil our engagement with him; the visit was very quiet and uneventful—pleasant enough. We met only another Mr. Evelyn, his cousin, whose wife came to tea.
Last night we were in Sydney Gardens again, as there was a repetition of the gala which went
