I keep on here from Week to week, partly because no other Place offers: but I almost doubt if I shall be here beyond next week. Not in this Lodging anyhow: which is wretchedly ‘rafty’ and cold; lets the Rain in when it Rains: and the Dust of the Shore when it drives: as both have been doing by turns all Yesterday and To day. I was cursing all this as I was shivering here by myself last Night: and in the Morning I hear of
three Wrecks off the Sands, and indeed meet five shipwreckt Men with a Troop of Sailors as I walk out before Breakfast. Oh Dear!
Please remember me to your ‘Gude Man’ and believe me yours truly,
E. F. G.
Pray do excuse all this Blotting: my Paper won’t dry To day.
To W. H. Thompson.
10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft.
Nov. 27, 1859.
My dear Thompson,
After a Fortnight’s Visit to my Sister’s (where I caught Cold which flew at once to my Ears, and there hangs) I returned hither, as the nearest Place to go to, and here shall be till Christmas at all Events. I wish to avoid London this winter: and indeed seem almost to have done with it, except for a Day’s Business or Sightseeing every now and then. Often should I like to roam about old Cambridge, and hear St. Mary’s Chimes at Midnight—but—but! This Place of course is dull enough: but here’s the Old Sea (a dirty Dutch one, to be sure) and Sands, and Sailors, a very fine Race of Men, far superior to those in Regent Street. Also the Dutchmen (an ugly set whom I can’t help liking for old Neighbours) come over in their broad Bottoms and take in Water at a
Creek along the Shore. But I believe the East winds get very fierce after Christmas, when the Sea has cooled down. You won’t come here, to be sure: or I should be very glad to smoke a Cigar, and have a Chat: and would take care to have a Fire in your Bedroom this time: a Negligence I was very sorry for in London.