"LOWESTOFT, _April_ 14/68.
['Letters,' p. 316.]

". . . Meanwhile the Crews loiter about the Town: A. Percival, Frost, and
_Jack_ in his Kingfisher Guernsey: to whom Posh does the honours of the
place. _He_ is still busy with his Gear: his hands of a fine Mahogany,
from Stockholm tar, but I see he has some return of _hoseness_. I
believe that he and I shall now sign the Mortgage Papers that make him
owner of _Half_ Meum and Tuum. I only get out of him that he can't say
he sees anything much amiss in the Deed. He is delightful with his Babe,
whose name is Clara--'Hallo, Clara!' etc. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Tuesday_, _June_ 16, 1868. [Ib.]

". . . Thank you for the Books, which were all right: except in so far
that they were anointed by the oozings of some Rhubarb Jam which Mrs
Berry very kindly introduced among them. I am at my Don Quixote again;
and really only sorry that I can read it so much more easily this year
than last that I shall be all the sooner done with it. Mackerel still
come in very slow, sometimes none at all: the dead-calm nights play the
deuce with the Fishing, and I see no prospect of change in the weather
till the Mackerel shall be changing their Quarters. I am vexed to see
the Lugger come in Day after day so poorly stored after all the Labour
and Time and Anxiety given to the work by her Crew; but I can do no more,
and at any-rate take my own share of the Loss very lightly. I can afford
it better than they can. I have told Newson to set sail and run home any
Day, Hour, or Minute, when he wishes to see his Wife and Family. But at
present he seems contented to eat Fish here: whether some of the few
'_Stulls_' {113} which Posh brings in, or what his now innumerable
friends the Trawlers are always offering. In fact, I think Newson looks
to Lowestoft as a Summer Pasture, and is in no hurry to leave it. He
lives here well for nothing, except Bread, Cheese, and Tea and Sugar. He
has now taken to Cocoa, however, which he calls 'Cuckoo' to my hearing;
having become enamoured of that Beverage in the Lugger, where it is the
order of the day. . . ."

"LOWESTOFT, _Monday_, _July_ 13, '68. [Ib.]

". . . Posh made up and paid off on Saturday. I have not yet asked him,
but I suppose he has just paid his way: I mean, so far as Grub goes. The
Brother of one of his Crew was killed the night we got here, in a Lugger
next to Posh's, by a Barque running into her, and knocking him--or, I
doubt, _crush