our running to the Window, and the dead Head, hair, and
Shoulders hurried past. That was Tragedy, poor Fellow, whatever Parts he
had played before.

I think you remember me with Kindness because accidentally associated
with your old Freestone in those pleasant Days, that also were among the
last of your Sister's Life. Her too I can see, with her China-rose
complexion: in the Lilac Gown she wore.

I keep on here from Week to week, partly because no other Place offers:
but I almost doubt if I shall be here beyond next week. Not in this
Lodging anyhow: which is wretchedly 'rafty' and cold; lets the Rain in
when it Rains: and the Dust of the Shore when it drives: as both have
been doing by turns all Yesterday and To day. I was cursing all this as
I was shivering here by myself last Night: and in the Morning I hear of
three Wrecks off the Sands, and indeed meet five shipwreckt Men with a
Troop of Sailors as I walk out before Breakfast. Oh Dear!

Please remember me to your 'Gude Man' and believe me yours truly,

E. F. G.

Pray do excuse all this Blotting: my Paper _won't_ dry To day.

_To W. H. Thompson_.

10 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT.
_Nov._ 27, 1859.

MY DEAR THOMPSON,

After a Fortnight's Visit to my Sister's (where I caught Cold which flew
at once to my Ears, and there hangs) I returned hither, as the nearest
Place to go to, and here shall be till Christmas at all Events. I wish
to avoid London this winter: and indeed seem almost to have done with it,
except for a Day's Business or Sightseeing every now and then. Often
should I like to roam about old Cambridge, and hear St. Mary's Chimes at
Midnight--but--but! This Place of course is dull enough: but here's the
Old Sea (a dirty Dutch one, to be sure) and Sands, and Sailors, a very
fine Race of Men, far superior to those in Regent Street. Also the
Dutchmen (an ugly set whom I can't help liking for old Neighbours) come
over in their broad Bottoms and take in Water at a Creek along the Shore.
But I believe the East winds get very fierce after Christmas, when the
Sea has cooled down. You won't come here, to be sure: or I should be
very glad to smoke a Cigar, and have a Chat: and would take care to have
a Fire in your Bedroom this time: a Negligence I was very sorry for in
London.

I read, or was told, they wouldn't let old Alfred's Bust into your
Trinity. They are right, I think, to let no one in there (as it should
be in Westminster Abbey) till a Hun