We have had a tremendous sea here. Steam-packet in the harbour frantic, and dashing her brains out against the stone walls.
Ever faithfully.
Rev. James White.
Boulogne, September 30th, 1853.
My dear White,
As you wickedly failed in your truth to the writer of books you adore, I write something that I hoped to have said, and meant to have said, in the confidence of the Pavilion among the trees.
Will you write another story for the Christmas No.? It will be exactly (I mean the Xmas No.) on the same plan as the last.
I shall be at the office from Monday to Thursday, and shall hope to receive a cheery "Yes," in reply.
Loves from all to all, and my particular love to Mrs. White.
Ever cordially yours.