{Manchester, about 16 April 1857] 

Dear Mrs Marx, 

Herewith the article,” and at the same time 4 Guardians. A new 
map of London has now at last enabled me to locate your Grafton 
Terrace. You really are right out in the country, at the foot of 
Hampstead Hills and, if the hachures on the map are correct, in a 
highly romantic district. But if the result is nothing but ill-health, 
toothaches, swellings of the head and digestive upsets, it doesn’t 
say much for country air and romanticism. At all events, I hope 
that both you and the Moor are by now feeling very much better. 

Lupus suggests that the Moor’s etymology of Farina is quite 
wrong and that the Sanscrit vdarinas is, rather, the root of Varina 
shag.” This answer will certainly come as no surprise to the Moor 
and should therefore not be withheld from him. A new chapter is 
about to open in old Lupus’ life. Don’t be alarmed—it isn’t 
marriage. On the contrary, it’s divorce, for he’s leaving the 
Landlady he’s been with for 3 years, and moving closer to where I 
live. The old gent is now very popular with a group of German 
clerks who come to the Chatsworth from time to time, and over 
whom he presides with great dignity every Sunday night. They 
simply couldn’t live without Lupus, any more than the English 
philistines who patronise the pub. 

All eyes up here are fixed on fat Potter in anticipation of the 
day when he seconds the address in Parliament; a fine spectacle 
that will be! 

Again, best wishes for your recovery. Warm regards to the 
girls—the air out there will undoubtedly suit them better. How 
they must have grown! 

With warm regards, 

Your 
F. Engels