running over the distance. Carlyle wrote me a long letter of questions
concerning the field of Battle, its traditions, etc. So I have trotted
about, examined the natives, and answered a great many of his queries as
fully, but as shortly, as I could. However I suppose he growls
superciliously at my letter, which was necessarily rather a long one. I
have also, in company with two farmers, opened one of the reputed graves
in which the killed were said to be reposited: and there sure enough we
found decayed bones, skulls, arms, legs, etc., and very sound teeth--the
only sound part. For many bodies put together corrupt one another of
course, and 200 years have not contributed to their preservation. People
had often dug about the field before and found nothing; and we tried two
or three other spots with no success. I am going to dig once more in a
place where tradition talks of a large burial of men and horses. . . .

How long I shall yet be here I know not: but not long I doubt. I dare
say I shall pass through London on my way to Suffolk: and then perhaps
see the trans-Atlantic Secretary. {138}

Don't trouble yourself to write answers to my gossip. I have just been
at our Church where we have had five clergymen to officiate: two in
shovel-hats. Our Vicar is near ninety; we have two curates: and an old
Clergyman and his Archdeacon son came on a visit. The son having a
shovel-hat, of course the Father could not be left behind. Shovel-hats
(you know) came into use with the gift of Tongs.

_To John Allen_.

[BOULGE COTTAGE.]
_Nov_. 18/42.

MY DEAR ALLEN,

. . . Do you know that I am really going to look out for some permanent
abode, which I think I am well qualified to decide on now. But in this
very judgment I may be most of all mistaken. I do not love London enough
to pitch my tent there: Woodbridge, Ipswich, or Colchester--won't one of
them do? . . .

I have been reading Burton's Anatomy {139} lately: a captivating book
certainly. That story of his going to the bridge at Oxford to listen to
the bargemen's slang, etc., he reports of the old Democritus, his
prototype: so perhaps biographers thought it must be Burton's taste also.
Or perhaps Burton took to doing it after example. I cannot help fancying
that I see the foundation (partly) of Carlyle's style in Burton: one
passage quite like part of Sartor Resartus. Much of Barton's Biography
may be picked up out of his own introduction to the Anatomy. Mau