“My dear Patmore,—Be so good as to tell me what has become of you, and whether you are still the principal feature of that little closet in which I last saw you, like a little German sovereign of his little domain, on the Elbe, Weser, or Rhine, as the case may be?
| R. PLUMER WARD. | 121 |
“For me, I have not stirred since February, except, now and then, by way of excursion to Matlock, Dovedale, and Johnson’s ‘happy valley’ of Ham—all very beautiful; not to mention Rousseau’s cave, at Wooton. With more or less health, I have been leading a life of happiness,—thanks to Him who gave it; and not the less because, at seventy-five, I feel my summons approaches nearer and nearer, every day and every hour.
“However, I did not mean to sermonise when I began, but to tell you that I have at length finished the work I have been so long employed upon—‘Bardolfe; or, the Decayed Gentleman,’—at your service.
“By this you will perhaps think, after what I have just
said of the summons and seventy-five, that I mean myself. No such thing. The
decay is of his family, from being old Norman peers to the lot of a gentleman
farmer. On the other hand, after many vicissitudes and adventures, in which
there are many pictures of life, he restores it. There is, as usual, a great
deal of the didactic, having, in fact, three notable instructors: one an
enlightened college
| 122 | R. PLUMER WARD. |
“Well, what do you think of it?
“Perhaps, after all these elucidatory particulars, you
may not be in town. In truth, though to my loss, I hope you are not; for your
health (precious to more than your mere self) will suffer from your too intense
exertions. This I have long thought, and I do hope you have corrected that most
suicidal custom of sitting up all night. I shall be therefore glad if you have
fled from Marylebone, and if to your lady-love, Mrs. G—,
at Paris, so much the better, whatever
| R. PLUMER WARD. | 123 |
“P.S.—The season for fresh legs of pork and turkeys is not yet come. When it does, some of them shall call at your door. I have three fine hogs, five cows, fifty-two turkeys, forty ducks, a hundred chickens, ten guinea fowls, and my wife handsomer and kinder than ever. Beatus ille qui procul!”
