down to a few Memoirs and such things: I am not
got down to Miss Braddon and Mrs. Wood yet, and I believe never shall:
not that I think this a merit: for it would show more Elasticity of Mind
to find out and make something out of the Genius in them. But it is too
late for me to try and retrace the 'Salle des pas perdus' of years; I
have not been very well, and more and more 'smell the Mould above the
Rose' as Hood wrote of himself. But I don't want to talk of this.

You are very good to talk of sparing a Day for me when you come down. I
will be sure to be at home any Day, or Days, next week. I can give you
Bed and Board as you know: and a Boat Sail on the River if you like. Why
I don't go over to you I have written and spoken of enough--all I can, if
not satisfactorily: only don't think it is indolence, Neglect, or
Distaste for you, or any of yours. . . .

I haven't, I think, taken in your Sanskrit morsel as yet, for I am called
about this morning on some Furniture Errands: and yet I want to post this
Letter To-day that you may have it this week.

I still think I shall take a Tauchnitz Sophocles with me to Sea, once
more to read the two OEdipuses, and Philoctetes; perhaps more carefully
than before; perhaps not! It is stupid not to get up those three noble
Pieces as well as one can.

I have not yet done my house: and, when I write of Furniture, it is
because I want to get so much ready as will suffice for an Invalid Niece
who wishes to come with her Maid by the End of June, or the Beginning of
July. Your old opposite Neighbour Mason is my Apollo in these matters: I
find him a very clever Fellow, and so well inclined to me that every one
else says he can scarce make money of what he sells me. He has _humour_
too.

I think you and Elizabeth should one day come and stay in this new House,
which will be really very pleasant. As far as I am concerned, I sha'n't
have much to do with it, I believe; but some one will inherit, and--sell
it!

I want you to choose a Lot of my Things to be bequeathed you: Books,
Pictures, Furniture. You mustn't think I prematurely deck myself in
Sables for my own Funeral; but it happens that I sent the rough Draft of
a Will to my Lawyer only three days ago.

My Brother John so much wants a Copy of Elizabeth's Verses to my Sister
Isabella in other Days.

This time twenty years you were going to me at Boulge Cottage: this time
ten years you were preparing for India.

Adieu, Love