names were taken up, so that we were forced to have either that or
none." The ladies at once moved on.

Mr Spalding, further, has placed in my hands a bundle of seventy letters,
written to himself by FitzGerald between 1862 and 1882. Some of them
relate to mere business matters (such as the building of Little Grange),
and some to private affairs; but the following extracts have a high and
exceptional value, as illustrating a feature in FitzGerald's life that is
little touched on in the published Letters--his strong love of the sea
and of sailors:--

"GELDESTONE HALL, BECCLES, _Feb._ 5, 1862.
['Letters,' p. 284.] {98}

". . . I have been twice to old Wright, who has built a Boat of about 14
feet on speculation: and has laid down the keel of a new wherry, on
speculation also. But he has as yet no Orders, and thinks his Business
is like to be very slack. Indeed the _Rail_ now begins to creep over the
Marsh, and even to come pretty close to the River, over which it is to
cross into Beccles. But you, I think, surmise that this Rail will not
hurt Wright so much as he fears it will. Poor old Boy--I found him well
and hearty on Sunday; but on Sunday night and Monday he was seized with
such Rheumatism (I think Rheumatic Gout) in one leg as has given him no
rest or sleep since. It is, he says, 'as if somethin' was a-tearin' the
Flesh off his Bones.' I showed him two of the guilty Screws which had
almost let my Leaden Keel part from the wooden one: he says he had
desired the Smith not to make _too_ large heads, and the Smith
accordingly made them too small; and some Apprentice had, he supposes,
fixed them in without further inspection. There is such honesty and
cheerfulness in Wright's Saxon Eyes and Countenance when he faces such a
charge as disarms all one's wrath."

"11 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT, _July_ 17, '65.
['Letters,' p. 301.]

". . . Yes, I sent Newson and Cooper home to the Shipwreck Dinner at
Woodbridge, and supposing they would be maudlin on Saturday, gave them
Sunday to repent on, and so have lost the only fine Days we have yet had
for sailing. To-day is a dead Calm. 'These are my Trials!' as a fine
Gentleman said to Wesley, when his Servant put rather too many Coals on
the Fire.

". . . Somehow, I always feel at home here,--partly that the place itself
is very suited to me: I have known it these 40 years, particularly
connected with my Sister Kerrich, whose Death has left a sort of sad
int