ou benevolently hope, I
have not yet begun them. No, on this _ninth of the month_ I have not yet
written a single slip. What could I do; house-hunting at first, and
beleaguered all day to-day and yesterday by furniture that must be
altered, and things that must be put away? My wretchedness, just now, is
inconceivable. Tell Anne, by-the-bye (not with reference to my
wretchedness, but in connection with the arrangements generally), that I
can't get on at all without her.

If Kate has not mentioned it, get Katey and Mamey to write and send a
letter to Charley; of course not hinting at our being here. He wants to
hear from them.

Poor little Hall is dead, as you will have seen, I dare say, in the
paper. This house is very cheerful on the drawing-room floor and above,
looking into the park on one side and Albany Street on the other.
Forster is mild. Maclise, exceedingly bald on the crown of his head.
Roche has just come in to know if he may "blow datter light." Love to
all the darlings. Regards to everybody else. Love to yourself.

Ever affectionately.

[Sidenote: Miss Dickens and Miss Katey Dickens.]

148, KING'S ROAD, BRIGHTON, _Monday, May 24, 1847._

MY DEAR MAMEY AND KATEY,

I was very glad to receive your nice letter. I am going to tell you
something that I hope will please you. It is this: I am coming to London
Thursday, and I mean to bring you both back here with me, to stay until
we all come home together on the Saturday. I hope you like this.

Tell John to come with the carriage to the London Bridge Station, on
Thursday morning at ten o'clock, and to wait there for me. I will then
come home and fetch you.

Mamma and Auntey and Charley send their loves. I send mine too, to
Walley, Spim, and Alfred, and Sydney.

Always, my dears,
Your affectionate Papa.

[Sidenote: Mr. William Sandys.]

1, DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 13th, 1847._

DEAR SIR,

Many thanks for your kind note. I shall hope to see you when we return
to town, from which we shall now be absent (with a short interval in
next month) until October. Your account of the Cornishmen gave me great
pleasure; and if I were not sunk in engagements so far, that the crown
of my head is invisible to my nearest friends, I should have asked you
to make me known to them. The new