Dear Hooker,—Thanks for a nice long letter from Bournemouth, September 27. Thanks, too, for the hope—though rather dim—that you and wife may come over to us in the spring. Before winter is over we must arrange some programme; for we four must meet again somehow and somewhere, while in the land of the living. But how is a problem.
... I see how difficult it must be for you to get away as far as to us. Our obstacle to any amount of strolling away is mainly the fear that if I interrupt my steady work on the “Flora of North America,” I may not get back to it again, or have the present zeal and ability for prosecuting it.
On the other hand, if I and my wife do not get some playdays now, while we can enjoy them, the time will soon come when we shall have to say that we have no pleasure in them. Therefore we are in sore straits.... If really you cannot come, then we will brave out the winter here, as we did last winter and are none the worse; then we will seriously consider whether Mahomet shall go to the mountain, which will not come to Mahomet.
I grind away at “Flora,” but, like the mills of the gods, I grind slowly, as becomes my age,—moreover, to continue the likeness, I grind too “exceedingly fine,” being too finical for speed, pottering over so many things that need looking into, and which I have not the discretion to let alone. Consequently the grist of each day’s work is pitiably small in proportion to the labor expended on it. I am now at Malvaceæ, which I once enjoyed setting to rights, and of which the North American species have got badly muddled since I had to do with them.
If Sereno Watson—who should be back again in twenty days—will only go on with the Cruciferæ, which he has meddled with a deal, and then do the Caryophyllaceæ, which are in like case, we may by March 1st have all done up to the Leguminosæ.
We learn to-day, through a pamphlet sent by Miss Horner, that Bunbury is dead—in June last....
Your “Primer”—new edition—has not come yet. Do not forget it. And then, as my manner is, I will see if I can find fault with it. Same with Bentham’s “Hand-book,” new edition....
I do not wonder that you are happy and contented. We should so like to see father, mother, and children in their encampment at Sunningdale. May plenty of sunshine be theirs!
Ball has sent me early sheets of his book. I must find time to go through its pages.
The L.’s abroad, except the two girls (who are to winter at San Remo) are now en voyage homeward. William, their father, has been painted by Holl. He is a good subject. Saw your sister B. (and kind Lombe); she writes a charming letter to my wife; seems to hold her own wonderfully.