that there should be as much useful furniture of
all sorts there, as to render it unnecessary for you to move a stick. If
you should think this a convenience, then I should propose to you to
pile your furniture in the middle of the rooms at Tavistock House, and
go out to Devonshire Terrace two or three weeks _before_ Michaelmas, to
enable my workmen to commence their operations. This might be to our
mutual convenience, and therefore I suggest it. Certainly the sooner I
can begin on Tavistock House the better. And possibly your going into
Devonshire Terrace might relieve you from a difficulty that would
otherwise be perplexing.

I make this suggestion (I need not say to _you_) solely on the chance of
its being useful to both of us. If it were merely convenient to me, you
know I shouldn't dream of it. Such an arrangement, while it would cost
you nothing, would perhaps enable you to get your new house into order
comfortably, and do exactly the same thing for me.

Ever affectionately.

P.S.--I anticipated your suggestion some weeks ago, when I found I
couldn't build a stable. I said I ought to have permission to take the
piece of ground into my garden, which was conceded. Loaden writes me
this morning that he thinks he can get permission to build a stable one
storey high, without a chimney. I reply that on the whole I would rather
enlarge the garden than build a stable with those restrictions.

[Sidenote: Mr. Henry Austin.]

BROADSTAIRS, _Sunday, September 7th, 1851._

MY DEAR HENRY,

I am in that state of mind which you may (once) have seen described in
the newspapers as "bordering on distraction;" the house given up to me,
the fine weather going on (soon to break, I daresay), the painting
season oozing away, my new book waiting to be born, and

NO WORKMEN ON THE PREMISES,

along of my not hearing from you!! I have torn all my hair off, and
constantly beat my unoffending family. Wild notions have occurred to me
of sending in my own plumber to do the drains. Then I remember that you
have probably written to prepare _your_ man, and restrain my audacious
hand. Then Stone presents himself, with a most exasperatingly mysterious
visage, and says that a rat has appeared in the kitchen, and it's his
opinion (Stone's, not the rat's) that the drains want "compo-ing;" for
the use of which explicit language I could fell him witho