Volume Iii Part 68 (2/2)
Sheffield was a tremendous success and an admirable audience. They made me a present of table-cutlery after the reading was over; and I came away by the mail-train within three-quarters of an hour, changing my dress and getting on my wrappers partly in the fly, partly at the inn, partly on the platform. When we got among the Lincolns.h.i.+re fens it began to snow. That changed to sleet, that changed to rain; the frost was all gone as we neared London, and the mud has all come. At two or three o'clock in the morning I stopped at Peterboro' again, and thought of you all disconsolately. The lady in the refreshment-room was very hard upon me, harder even than those fair enslavers usually are. She gave me a cup of tea, as if I were a hyena and she my cruel keeper with a strong dislike to me. I mingled my tears with it, and had a petrified bun of enormous antiquity in miserable meekness.
It is clear to me that climates are gradually a.s.similating over a great part of the world, and that in the most miserable part of our year there is very little to choose between London and Paris, except that London is not so muddy. I have never seen dirtier or worse weather than we have had here since I returned. In desperation I went out to the Barrieres last Sunday on a headlong walk, and came back with my very eyebrows smeared with mud. Georgina is usually invisible during the walking time of the day. A turned-up nose may be seen in the midst of splashes, but nothing more.
I am settling to work again, and my horrible restlessness immediately a.s.sails me. It belongs to such times. As I was writing the preceding page, it suddenly came into my head that I would get up and go to Calais. I don't know why; the moment I got there I should want to go somewhere else. But, as my friend the Boots says (see Christmas number ”Household Words”): ”When you come to think what a game you've been up to ever since you was in your own cradle, and what a poor sort of a chap you were, and how it's always yesterday with you, or else to-morrow, and never to-day, that's where it is.”
My dear Mary, would you favour me with the name and address of the professor that taught you writing, for I want to improve myself? Many a hand have I seen with many characteristics of beauty in it--some loopy, some dashy, some large, some small, some sloping to the right, some sloping to the left, some not sloping at all; but what I like in _your_ hand, Mary, is its plainness, it is like print. Them as runs may read just as well as if they stood still. I should have thought it was copper-plate if I hadn't known you. They send all sorts of messages from here, and so do I, with my best regards to Bedgy and pardner and the blessed babbies. When shall we meet again, I wonder, and go somewhere!
Ah!
Believe me ever, my dear Mary, Yours truly and affectionately,
Joe.
(That doesn't look plain.) JOE.
[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]
”HOUSEHOLD WORDS,” _Friday, Feb. 8th, 1856._
MY DEAR GEORGY,
I must write this at railroad speed, for I have been at it all day, and have numbers of letters to cram into the next half-hour. I began the morning in the City, for the Theatrical Fund; went on to Shepherd's Bush; came back to leave cards for Mr. Baring and Mr. Bates; ran across Piccadilly to Stratton Street, stayed there an hour, and shot off here.
I have been in four cabs to-day, at a cost of thirteen s.h.i.+llings. Am going to dine with Mark and Webster at half-past four, and finish the evening at the Adelphi.
The dinner was very successful. Charley was in great force, and floored Peter Cunningham and the Audit Office on a question about some bill transactions with Baring's. The other guests were B. and E., s.h.i.+rley Brooks, Forster, and that's all. The dinner admirable. I never had a better. All the wine I sent down from Tavistock House. Anne waited, and looked well and happy, very much brighter altogether. It gave me great pleasure to see her so improved. Just before dinner I got all the letters from home. They could not have arrived more opportunely.
The G.o.dfather's present looks charming now it is engraved, and John is just now going off to take it to Mrs. Yates. To-morrow Wills and I are going to Gad's Hill. It will occupy the whole day, and will just leave me time to get home to dress for dinner.
And that's all that I have to say, except that the first number of ”Little Dorrit” has gone to forty thousand, and the other one fast following.
My best love to Catherine, and to Mamey and Katey, and Walter and Harry, and the n.o.ble Plorn. I am grieved to hear about his black eye, and fear that I shall find it in the green and purple state on my return.
Ever affectionately.
THE HUMBLE PEt.i.tION OF CHARLES d.i.c.kENS, A DISTRESSED FOREIGNER,
SHEWETH,
That your Pet.i.tioner has not been able to write one word to-day, or to fas.h.i.+on forth the dimmest shade of the faintest ghost of an idea.
That your Pet.i.tioner is therefore desirous of being taken out, and is not at all particular where.
That your Pet.i.tioner, being imbecile, says no more. But will ever, etc.
(whatever that may be).
PARIS, _March 3rd, 1856._
[Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.]
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