There is one thing, I hope--that you don't show any of my letters to
William Platt.  If he wants to see any of my letters, he knows the
right way to go to work.  I wouldn't have him see one of these
letters, written for circulation in the family, for anything in the
world.  If he wants one for himself, he has got to write to me first.
Let him write to me first, and then I will see about answering him.
You can show him this if you like; but if you show him anything more,
I will never write to you again. 

I told you in my last about my farewell to England, my crossing the
Channel, and my first impressions of Paris.  I have thought a great
deal about that lovely England since I left it, and all the famous
historic scenes I visited; but I have come to the conclusion that it
is not a country in which I should care to reside.  The position of
woman does not seem to me at all satisfactory, and that is a point,
you know, on which I feel very strongly.  It seems to me that in
England they play a very faded-out part, and those with whom I
conversed had a kind of depressed and humiliated tone; a little dull,
tame look, as if they were used to being snubbed and bullied, which