Lecture on Anglo Saxon, by Professor Skeat. If
you have not seen this 'Hurticle' (as Thackeray used to say) I should
like to send it to you; and will so do, if you will but let me know where
it may find you.

I have not been away from this place save for a Day or two since last you
heard from me. In a fortnight I may be going to Lowestoft along with my
friends the Cowells.

I take great Pleasure in Hawthorne's Journals--English, French, and
Italian--though I cannot read his Novels. They are too thickly detailed
for me: and of unpleasant matter too. We of the Old World beat the New,
I think, in a more easy manner; though Browning & Co. do not bear me out
there. And I am sincerely yours

E. F.G.

LIX.

LOWESTOFT, _Septr._ l8, [1879.]

MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE,

Your last letter told me that you were to be back in England by the
middle of this month. So I write some lines to ask if you _are_ back,
and where to be found. To be sure, I can learn that much from some
Donne: to the Father of whom I must commit this letter for any further
Direction. But I will also say a little--very little having to
say--beyond asking you how you are, and in what Spirits after the great
Loss you have endured. {154}

Of that Loss I heard from Blanche Donne--some while, it appears, before
you heard of it yourself. I cannot say that it was surprising, however
sad, considering the terrible Illness she had some fifteen years ago. I
will say no more of it, nor of her, of whom I could say so much; but
nothing that would not be more than superfluous to you.

It did so happen, that, the day before I heard of her Death, I had
thought to myself that I would send her my Crabbe, as to my other
friends, and wondered that I had not done so before. I should have sent
off the Volume for Donne to transmit when--Blanche's Note came.

After writing of this, I do not think I should add much more, had I much
else to write about. I will just say that I came to this place five
weeks ago to keep company with my friend Edward Cowell, the Professor; we
read Don Quixote together in a morning and chatted for two or three hours
of an evening; and now he is gone away to Cambridge and [has] left me to
my Nephews and Nieces here. By the month's end I shall be home at
Woodbridge, whither any Letter you may please to write me may be
addressed.

I try what I am told are the best Novels of some years back, but find I
cannot read any but Trollope's.