lso talk of a cruise to
Edinburgh in one of their Schooners. But both these Excursions I reserve
for such hot weather as may make a retreat from the Town agreeable. I
make no advances to Farlingay, because (as yet) we have not had any such
Heat as to bake the Houses here: and, beside, I am glad to be by the
River. It is strange how sad the Country has become to me. I went
inland to see Acton's Curiosities before the Auction: and was quite glad
to get back to the little Town again. I am quite clear I must live the
remainder of my Life in a Town: but a little one, and with a strip of
Garden to saunter in. . . .

I go sometimes to see the Rifles drill, and shoot at their Target, and
have got John {22} to ask them up to Boulge to practise some day: I must
insinuate that he should offer them some Beer when they get there. It is
a shame the Squires do nothing in the matter: take no Interest: offer no
Encouragement, beyond a Pound or two in Money. And who are those who
have most interest at stake in case of Rifles being really wanted? But I
am quite assured that this Country is dying, as other Countries die, as
Trees die, atop first. The lower Limbs are making all haste to follow. . . .

By the bye, don't let me forget to ask you to bring with you my Persian
Dictionary in case you come into these Parts. I read very very little:
and get very desultory: but when Winter comes again must take to some
dull Study to keep from Suicide, I suppose. The River, the Sea, etc.,
serve to divert one now.

Adieu. These long Letters prove one's Idleness.

_To R. C. Trench_. {23a}

MARKET-HILL, WOODBRIDGE.
_July_ 3/61.

DEAR DOCTOR TRENCH,

Thank you sincerely for the delightful little Journal {23b} which I had
from you yesterday, and only wished to be a dozen times as long. The
beautiful note at p. 73 speaks of much yet unprinted! It is a pity Mrs.
Kemble had not read p. 79. I thought in the Night of 'the subdued Voice
of Good Sense' and 'The Eye that invites you to look into it.' I doubt I
can read, more or less attentively, most personal Memoirs: but I am
equally sure of the superiority of this, in its Shrewdness, Humour,
natural Taste, and Good Breeding. One is sorry for the account of Lord
Nelson: but one cannot doubt it. It was at the time when he was
intoxicated, I suppose, with Glory and Lady Hamilton. What your Mother
says of the Dresden Madonna reminds me of what Tennyson once said: that
the Attitude of The