I have given up the hopes of seeing you, nobody is going to Town, unless I take a cling to some carriage footboard as the beggar boys do. I have given up all prospects of bonnets for the future, and so have ordered one at Kingston.
I had an obliquity the other day, and awful longing to be in London for a leetle, a very leetle while. I tried and tried what you call to reason myself out of it, and I partly succeeded, but the getting out of that folly cost me a great deal, and made me rather rough and uncomfortable. Brushing up one’s reason is just as disagreeable as having one’s teeth cleaned, it sets one on edge for the while....
I am sure you will be obliged to me for telling you, that in a shower in London, a man was running along with an umbrella, and ran against another man, this latter offended man snatched the offending umbrella, out of the umbrellee’s hands, and throwing it away said, “Where are you running to like a mad mushroom?”
If Aunt gets better soon, I will go up in a week or two, and have a look at you, and get a hat. Your Leghorn sounds well, but I never yet found home brewed bonnets answer, they are always ill-disposed, full of bad habits, and get awkward crics about them. Good-bye.
Miss FitzGerald to Miss Eden.
May, 1820.
I should have written directly to wish you joy of Mary’s job being so prosperously accomplished,[132] but I have been keeping my bed. My cough has got such a grip of me, nothing does me good.... What a fuss you must have been in I can but think. Was Mr. Drummond in a fuss? Well, it must be a great relief off your mind, and off hers too, poor dear. I suppose she is already doatingly fond of the little brute as if she had known it all her life.... I have got a horrid cold and cough, and I look a beast of the first water, and of course, Edward [FitzGerald] has fixed this moment to come and see us. I expect him in two days, and he expects me in my present haggard, worn, water-gruel state of mind to amuse him and be sémillante. I, who am so low in words, I have not one to throw at a small dog.
Miss FitzGerald to Miss Eden.
June, 1820.
I am quite so much better to-day, I entertain some hopes of prolonging my precarious existence a little longer. Company to dinner yesterday. Humbug and Bore kissed each other without truth or mercy. Why didn’t you come to me to-day? Come to-morrow for I have such a piece of nonsense for you.