not very many years back; but more likely under a George than under a Victoria.
I think Squire must be a little crazy on this score; that is, the old dotage of a Cathedral town superstition worked up into activity by a choleric disposition. He seems, as I told you, of the sanguine temperament; and he mentioned a long illness during which he was not allowed to read a book, etc., which looks like some touch of the head. Perhaps brain fever. Perhaps no such thing, but all my fancy. He was very civil; ordered in a bottle of Sherry and biscuits: asked me to dine, which I could not do. And so ends my long story. But you must see him.
Yours,
E. F. G.
He spoke of a portrait of Oliver that had been in his family since Oliver’s time—till sold for a few shillings to some one in Norwich by some rascal relation. The portrait unlike all he has seen in painting or engraving: very pale, very thoughtful, very commanding, he says. If he ever recovers it, he will present you with it; he says if it should cost him £10—for he admires you. [220]
To Bernard Barton.
Exeter, August 16/47.
My dear Barton,
. . . Here I am at Exeter: a place I never was in before. It is a fine country round about; and last
evening I saw landscape that would have made Churchyard crazy. The Cathedral is not worth seeing to an ordinary observer, though I dare say Archæologists find it has its own private merits. . . .