can write prodigiously in a retired place (as at
Broadstairs), and a day in London sets me up again and starts me. But
the toil and labour of writing, day after day, without that magic
lantern, is IMMENSE!! I don't say this at all in low spirits, for we
are perfectly comfortable here, and I like the place very much indeed,
and the people are even more friendly and fond of me than they were in
Genoa. I only mention it as a curious fact, which I have never had an
opportunity of finding out before. _My_ figures seem disposed to
stagnate without crowds about them. I wrote very little in Genoa (only
the _Chimes_), and fancied myself conscious of some such influence
there--but Lord! I had two miles of streets at least, lighted at night,
to walk about in; and a great theatre to repair to, every night." At the
close of the letter he told me that he had pretty well matured the
general idea of the Christmas book, and was burning to get to work on
it. He thought it would be all the better, for a change, to have no
fairies or spirits in it, but to make it a simple domestic tale.[127]

In less than a week from this date his second number was finished, his
first slip of the little book done, and his confidence greater. They had
had wonderful weather,[128] so clear that he could see from the
Neuchatel road the whole of Mont Blanc, six miles distant, as plainly
as if he were standing close under it in the courtyard of the little inn
at Chamounix; and, though again it was raining when he wrote, his
"nailed shoes" were by him and his "great waterproof cloak" in
preparation for a "fourteen-mile walk" before dinner. Then, after three
days more, came something of a sequel to the confession before made,
which will be read with equal interest. "The absence of any accessible
streets continues to worry me, now that I have so much to do, in a most
singular manner. It is quite a little mental phenomenon. I should not
walk in them in the day time, if they were here, I dare say: but at
night I want them beyond description. I don't seem able to get rid of my
spectres unless I can lose them in crowds. However, as you say, there
are streets in Paris, and good suggestive streets too: and trips to
London will be nothing then. WHEN I have finished the Christmas book, I
shall fly to Geneva for a day or two, before taking up with _Dombey_
again. I like this place better and better; and never saw, I think, more
agreeable people than our little circle is mad