t nice to look at. I would give up half my books
for a new profile.

What a lovely day since twelve o'clock! I never saw the lake shore
more heavenly.

I am very thankful that you like this "St. Mark's" so much, and do not
feel as if I had lost power of mind. I think the illness has told on
me more in laziness than foolishness. I feel as if there was as much
_in_ me as ever, but it is too much trouble to say it. And I find
myself reconciled to staying in bed of a morning to a quite woeful
extent. I have not been affected so much by melancholy, being very
thankful to be still alive, and to be able to give pleasure to some
people.

You have greatly helped me by this dear little note. And the bread's
all right, brown again, and I'm ready for asparagus of any stoutness,
there! Are you content! But my new asparagus is quite _visible_ this
year, though how much would be wanted for a dish I don't venture to
count, but must be congratulated on its definitely stalky appearance.

I was over the water this morning on school committee. How bad I have
been to let those poor children be tormented as they are all this
time! I'm going to try and stop all the spelling and counting and
catechising, and teach them only--to watch and pray.

The oranges make me think I'm in a castle in Spain!

* * * * *

Your letters always warm me a little, not with laughing, but with the
soft glow of life, for I live mostly with "la mort dans l'ame." (It is
curious that the French, whom one thinks of as slight and frivolous,
have this true and deep expression for the forms of sorrow that kill,
as opposed to those that discipline and strengthen.) And your words
and thoughts just soften and warm like west wind.

It is nice being able to please you with what I'm writing, and that
you can tell people I'm not so horrid.

Here's the "Fors" you saw the proof of, but _this_ isn't quite right
yet.

The Willy[44] quotations are very delightful. Do you know that naughty
"Cowley" at all? There's all kind of honey and strawberries in him.

It is bitter cold here these last days. I don't stir out, but must
this afternoon. I've to go out to dinner and work at the Arundel
Society. And if you only knew what was in my thoughts you would be
_so_ sorry for me, that I can't tell you.

[Footnote 44: Shakespeare.]

* * * * *

CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD.

What a