arry
come up,' etc., which mar the sense of Authenticity. Then, no one
writing better English than Borrow in general, there is the vile
_Individual_--_Person_--and _Locality_ always cropping up: and even this
vulgar Young Ladyism, 'The Scenery was beautiful _to a Degree_.' _What_
Degree? When did this vile Phrase arise?

_To W. H. Thompson_.

_Good Friday_, 1863.

MY DEAR THOMPSON,

Pray never feel ashamed of not answering my Letters so long as you do
write twice a year, to let me know you live and thrive. As much oftener
as you please: but you are only to be ashamed of not doing that. For
that I really want of all who have been very kind and very constant
('_loyal_' is the word that even Emperors now use of themselves) for so
many years. This I say in all sincerity.

Now, while you talk of being ashamed of not writing, I am rather ashamed
of writing so much to you. Partly because I really have so little to
say; and also because saying that little too often puts you to the shame
you speak of. You say my Letters are pleasant, however: and they will be
so far pleasant if they assure you that I like talking to you in that
way: bad as I am at more direct communication. I can tell you your
letters are very pleasant to me; you at least have always something to
tell of your half-year's Life: and you tell it so wholesomely, I always
say in so capital a Style, as makes me regret you have not written some
of your better Knowledge for the Public. I suppose (as I have heard)
that your Lectures {37} are excellent in this way; I can say I should
like very much to attend a course of them, on the Greek Plays, or on
Plato. I dare say you are right about an Apprenticeship in Red Tape
being necessary to make a Man of Business: but is it too late in Life for
you to buckle to and screw yourself up to condense some of your Lectures
and scholarly Lore into a Book? By 'too late in Life' I mean too late to
take Heart to do it.

I am sure you won't believe that I am _scratching_ you in return for any
scratchings from your hands. We are both too old, too sensible, and too
independent, I think, for that sort of thing.

As to my going to Ely in June, I don't know yet what to say; for I have
been Fool enough to order a Boat to be building which will cost me 350
pounds, and she talks of being launched in the very first week of June,
and I have engaged for some short trips in her as soon as she is afloat.
I begin to feel tired of