<dTitle type=main>Frankenstein, or, the Modern Prometheus</dTitle>
<dAuthor>Mary Wollestonecraft Shelley</dAuthor></byLine>
<div type='letter' n=L1>
<p>To Mrs. Saville, England
<p>St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—
<p>You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement
of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.
I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister
of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.
<p>I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets
of Petersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks,
which braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand
this feeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions
towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.
Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more ferve . . .