is to read me 'The Two Noble Kinsmen.'

And now I have written more than enough for yourself and me: whose Eyes
may be the worse for it to-morrow. I still go about in Blue Glasses, and
flinch from Lamp and Candle. Pray let me know about your own Eyes, and
your own Self; and believe me always sincerely yours

LITTLEGRANGE.

I really was relieved that you did not write to thank me for the poor
flowers which I sent you. They were so poor that I thought you would
feel bound so to do, and, when they were gone, repented. I have now some
gay Hyacinths up, which make my pattypan Beds like China Dishes.

XCII. {219}

[_April_, 1881.]

MY DEAR LADY:

This present Letter calls for no answer--except just that which perhaps
you cannot make it. If you have that copy of Plays revised by John the
Great which I sent, or brought, you, I wish you would cause your Maid to
pack it in brown Paper, and send it by Rail duly directed to me. I have
a wish to show it to Aldis Wright, who takes an Interest in your Family,
as in your Prophet. If you have already dismissed the Book elsewhere--not
much liking, I think, the stuff which J. K. spent so much trouble on, I
shall not be surprised, nor at all aggrieved: and there is not much for
A. W. to profit by unless in seeing what pains your noble Uncle took with
his Calling.

It has been what we call down here 'smurring' rather than raining, all
day long: and I think that Flower and Herb already show their gratitude.
My Blackbird (I think it is the same I have tried to keep alive during
the Winter) seems also to have 'wetted his Whistle,' and what they call
the 'Cuckoo's mate,' with a rather harsh scissor note, announces that his
Partner may be on the wing to these Latitudes. You will hear of him at
Mr. W. Shakespeare's, it may be. There must be Violets, white and blue,
somewhere about where he lies, I think. They are generally found in a
Churchyard, where also (the Hunters used to say) a Hare: for the same
reason of comparative security, I suppose.

I am very glad you agree with me about Mrs. Oliphant. That one paper of
hers makes me wish to read her Books.

You must somehow, or somewhile, let me know your Address in Leamington,
unless a Letter addressed to Cavendish Square will find you there. Always
and truly yours

LITTLE G.

XCIII. {221}

_May_ 8, [1881.]

MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:

You will not break your Law, though you have done so once--to tell me of