aring to put forth a blossom as well as a leaf. Yesterday I was
sitting on a stile by our River side.

You will doubtless see Tennyson's new Volume, {201b} which is to my
thinking far preferable to his later things, though far inferior to those
of near forty years ago: and so, I think, scarce wanted. There is a bit
of Translation from an old War Song which shows what a Poet can do when
he condescends to such work: and I have always said that 'tis for the old
Poets to do some such service for their Predecessors. I hope this long
letter is tolerably legible: and I am in very truth

Sincerely yours
THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE.

LXXXIV.

WOODBRIDGE, _Christmas Day_, [1880.]

MY DEAR LADY:

You are at Leamington for this day, I expect: but, as I am not sure of
your address there, I direct to Queen Anne as usual. This very morning I
had a letter from my dear George Crabbe, telling me that he has met your
friend Mr. H. Aide at Lord Walsingham's, the Lord of G. C.'s parish: and
that Mr. Aide had asked him (G. C.) for his copy of my Crabbe. I should
have been very glad to give him one had he, or you, mentioned to me that
he had any wish for the book: I am only somewhat disappointed that so few
do care to ask for it.

I am here all alone for my Christmas: which is not quite my own fault. A
Nephew, and a young London clerk, were to have come, but prevented; even
my little Reader is gone to London for his Holyday, and left me with Eyes
more out of _Kelter_ {202} than usual to entertain myself with. 'These
are my troubles, Mr. Wesley,' as a rich man complained to him when his
Servant put too many Coals on the fire. {203a} On Friday, Aldis Wright
comes for two days, on his road to his old home Beccles: and I shall
leave him to himself with Books and a Cigar most part of the Day, and
make him read Shakespeare of a night. He is now editing Henry V. for
what they call the Clarendon Press. He still knows nothing of Mr.
Furness, who, he thinks, must be home in America long ago.

Spedding writes me that Carlyle is now so feeble as to be carried up and
down stairs. But very 'quiet,' which is considered a bad sign; but, as
Spedding says, surely much better than the other alternative, into which
one of Carlyle's temperament might so probably have fallen. Nay, were it
not better for all of us? Mr. Froude is most constantly with him.

If this Letter is forwarded you, I know that it will not be long before I
hear fr