Volume Ii Part 35 (2/2)
Affectionately yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
OFFICE OF ”ALL THE YEAR ROUND,”
_Wednesday, March 1st, 1865._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
I have been laid up here with a frost-bitten foot (from hard walking in the snow), or you would have heard from me sooner.
My reply to Professor Aga.s.siz is short, but conclusive. Daily seeing improper uses made of confidential letters in the addressing of them to a public audience that have no business with them, I made not long ago a great fire in my field at Gad's Hill, and burnt every letter I possessed. And now I always destroy every letter I receive not on absolute business, and my mind is so far at ease. Poor dear Felton's letters went up into the air with the rest, or his highly distinguished representative should have had them most willingly.
We never fail to drink old P.'s health on his birthday, or to make him the subject of a thousand loving remembrances. With best love to Mrs.
Macready and Katie,
Ever, my dearest Macready, Your most affectionate Friend.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]
16, SOMER'S PLACE, HYDE PARK, _Sat.u.r.day Night, April 22nd, 1865._
MY DEAREST MACREADY,
A thousand thanks for your kind letter, most heartily welcome.
My frost-bitten foot, after causing me great inconvenience and much pain, has begun to conduct itself amiably. I can now again walk my ten miles in the morning without inconvenience, but am absurdly obliged to sit shoeless all the evening--a very slight penalty, as I detest going out to dinner (which killed the original old Parr by-the-bye).
I am working like a dragon at my book, and am a terror to the household, likewise to all the organs and bra.s.s bands in this quarter. Gad's Hill is being gorgeously painted, and we are here until the 1st of June. I wish I might hope you would be there any time this summer; I really _have_ made the place comfortable and pretty by this time.
It is delightful to us to hear such good news of b.u.t.ty. She made so deep an impression on Fechter that he always asks me what Ceylon has done for her, and always beams when I tell him how thoroughly well it has made her. As to _you_, you are the youngest man (worth mentioning as a thorough man) that I know. Oh, let me be as young when I am as----did you think I was going to write ”old?” No, sir--withdrawn from the wear and tear of busy life is my expression.
Poole still holds out at Kentish Town, and says he is dying of solitude.
His memory is astoundingly good. I see him about once in two or three months, and in the meantime he makes notes of questions to ask me when I come. Having fallen in arrear of the time, these generally refer to unknown words he has encountered in the newspapers. His three last (he always reads them with tremendous difficulty through an enormous magnifying-gla.s.s) were as follows:
1. What's croquet?
2. What's an Albert chain?
3. Let me know the state of mind of the Queen.
When I had delivered a neat exposition on these heads, he turned back to his memoranda, and came to something that the utmost power of the enormous magnifying-gla.s.s couldn't render legible. After a quarter of an hour or so, he said: ”O yes, I know.” And then rose and clasped his hands above his head, and said: ”Thank G.o.d, I am not a dram-drinker.”
Do think of coming to Gad's in the summer; and do give my love to Mrs.
Macready, and tell her I know she can make you come if she will. Mary and Georgy send best and dearest loves to her, to you, and to Katie, and to baby. Johnny we suppose to be climbing the tree of knowledge elsewhere.
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