I venture to think—and what is more daring—to write, that my Eyes are better, after six weeks’ rest and Blue Glasses. But I say so with due regard to my old Friend Nemesis.
I have heard nothing about my dear Donne since you wrote: and you only said that you had not heard a good account of him. Since then you have, I doubt not, seen as well as heard. But, now that I see better (Absit Invidia!) I will ask Mowbray.
It is well, I think, that Carlyle desired to rest (as I am told he did) where he was born—at Ecclefechan, from which I have, or had, several Letters dated by
him. His Niece, who had not replied to my note of Enquiry, of two months ago, wrote to me after his Death.
Now I have written enough for you as well as for myself: and am yours always the same
Littlegrange. *
* ‘What foppery is this, sir?’—Dr. Johnson.
LXXXVII.
[Feb., 1881.]
My dear Mrs. Kemble:—