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A Memoir of the Reverend Sydney Smith
Letters 1844
Sydney Smith to Saba Holland, [28] January 1844
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Author's Preface
Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Index
Editor’s Preface
Letters 1801
Letters 1802
Letters 1803
Letters 1804
Letters 1805
Letters 1806
Letters 1807
Letters 1808
Letters 1809
Letters 1810
Letters 1811
Letters 1812
Letters 1813
Letters 1814
Letters 1815
Letters 1816
Letters 1817
Letters 1818
Letters 1819
Letters 1820
Letters 1821
Letters 1822
Letters 1823
Letters 1824
Letters 1825
Letters 1826
Letters 1827
Letters 1828
Letters 1829
Letters 1830
Letters 1831
Letters 1832
Letters 1833
Letters 1834
Letters 1835
Letters 1836
Letters 1837
Letters 1838
Letters 1839
Letters 1840
Letters 1841
Letters 1842
Letters 1843
Letters 1844
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Combe Florey, 1844.
My dear Saba,

Are you sure that you are sufficiently acquainted with what the strength of cider ought to be, to determine that your cider has been adulterated? The farmer has the character of being a remarkably honest man, and his reputation is at stake. Send me down here a couple of bottles, which I will compare with his cider. George Hibbert is here. Your mother has no illness, but much malaise. I complain of nothing but weakness, and want of nervous energy; I look as strong as a cart-horse, but I cannot get round the garden without resting once or twice, so deficient am I in nervous energy. I doubt whether to attribute this to old-age, and to consider it as inevitable, or to blame this soft, and warm, and disinvigorating climate. I believe if I were at Ramsgate or Brighton I should be strong.

I think Bobus much too adventurous for the powers of his sight; he lives in constant danger, but not fear, of a tremendous fall; and to walk, as he does, in the streets, is positive insanity. His blindness is singular: he can see a mote, but not a beam,—the smaller any-
MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH.519
thing is, the better he sees it; he could see David, but would run against Goliath.

We propose to be in London about the 20th, of which you may inform a fond and expecting capital. I have said nothing to your mother of the marble chimney-pieces* in the drawing-rooms; I think she will faint with joy when she sees them. God bless you, dear Saba! My kind regards to Holland.

Your affectionate father,
Sydney Smith.