there was A Man in all that Business still, who is so now, somewhat tarnished.—And I am yours as then sincerely
E. F.G.
XLIV.
Lowestoft: December 12/76.
Dear Mrs. Kemble,
If you hold to your Intention of coming to Europe in January, this will be my last Letter over the Atlantic—till further Notice! I dare say you will send me a last Rejoinder under the same conditions.
I write, you see, from the Date of my last letter: but have been at home in the meanwhile. And am going home to-morrow—to arrange about Christmas Turkeys (God send we haven’t all our fill of that, this Year!) and other such little matters pertaining to the Season—which, to myself, is always a very dull one. Why it happens that I so often write to you from here, I scarce know; only that one comes with few Books, perhaps, and the Sea somehow talks to one of old Things. I have ever my Edition of Crabbe’s Tales of the Hall with me. How pretty is this—
‘In a small Cottage on the rising Ground
West of the Waves, and just beyond their Sound.’ [118]
Which reminds me also that one of the Books I have here is Leslie Stephen’s ‘Hours in a Library,’ really
delightful reading, and, I think, really settling some Questions of Criticism, as one wants to be finally done in all Cases, so as to have no more about and about it. I think I could have suggested a little Alteration in the matter of this Crabbe, whom I probably am better up in than L. S., though I certainly could not write about it as he does. Also, one word about Clarissa. Almost all the rest of the two Volumes I accept as a Disciple. [119a]