hing the tour,
I quite agree with you that you and Kate would have been
uncomfortable alone. It's a very fine theory, that of
women being able to get along without men as well as with
them; but, like other fine theories, it will be found very
troublesome by those who first put it in practice. Gloved
hands, petticoats, feminine softness, and the general
homage paid to beauty, all stand in the way of success.
These things may perhaps some day be got rid of, and
possibly with advantage; but while young ladies are still
encumbered with them a male companion will always be found
to be a comfort. I don't quite know whether your cousin
George is the best possible knight you might have chosen.
I should consider myself to be infinitely preferable,
had my going been upon the cards. Were you in danger
of meeting Paynim foes, he, no doubt, would kill them
off much quicker than I could do, and would be much
more serviceable in liberating you from the dungeons
of oppressors, or even from stray tigers in the Swiss
forests. But I doubt his being punctual with the luggage.
He will want you or Kate to keep the accounts, if any are
kept. He will be slow in getting you glasses of water at
the railway stations, and will always keep you waiting at
breakfast. I hold that a man with two ladies on a tour
should be an absolute slave to them, or they will not
fully enjoy themselves. He should simply be an upper
servant, with the privilege of sitting at the same table
with his mistresses. I have my doubts as to whether your
cousin is fit for the place; but, as to myself, it is just
the thing that I was made for. Luckily, however, neither
you nor Kate are without wills of your own, and perhaps
you may be able to reduce Mr Vavasor to obedience.

As to the home affairs I have very little to say here,--in
this letter. I shall of course run up and see you before
you start, and shall probably stay a week in town. I know
I ought not to do so, as it will be a week of idleness,
and yet not a week of happiness. I'd sooner have an hour
with you in the country than a whole day in London. And I
always feel in town that I've too much to do to allow of
my doing anything. If it were sheer idleness I could enjoy
it, but it is a feverish idleness, in which one is driven
here and there, expecting some gratification which not
only never