do not wish to eat my
Cake too soon. The last night but one I sent my Reader to see Macbeth
played by a little Shakespearian company at a Lecture Hall here. He
brought me one new Reading; suggested, I doubt not by himself, from a
remembrance of Macbeth's tyrannical ways: 'Hang out our _Gallows_ on the
outward walls.' Nevertheless, the Boy took great Interest in the Play,
and I like to encourage him in Shakespeare rather than in the Negro
Melodists.

_To C. E. Norton_.

WOODBRIDGE. _Jan._ 25/82.

MY DEAR NORTON,

I forgot in my last letter to beg you not to write for the mere purpose
of acknowledging the revised OEdipus who was to travel along with it. You
know that I am glad to hear from you at any time when you are at leisure,
not otherwise; and I shall take for granted that you think my alterations
are improvements, so far as they go. And that is enough.

I herewith enclose you a sort of Choral Epilogue for the second Part,
which you can stick in or not as you will. I cannot say much for it: but
it came together in my head after last writing to you, while I was pacing
up and down a Landing-place in my house, to which I have been confined
for the last ten days by a Bronchial Cold. But for which I should have
been last week in London for the purpose of seeing a very dear old,
coaevally old, Friend, {322} who has been gradually declining in Body and
Mind for the last three years.

Yours always sincerely
LITTLEGRANGE.

_To W. A. Wright_.

_Friday_ [24 _February_ 1882].

MY DEAR WRIGHT,

I went to London this day week: saw my poor Donne (rather better than I
had expected to find him--but all declining) three times: and came
home--glad to come home!--on Monday. Mrs. Kemble, Edwards (Keene at the
latter Lady's) and my old Nursey friends, all I saw beside, in the human
way, save Streetfarers, Cabmen, etc. The Shops seemed all stale to me:
the only Exhibition I went to (Old Masters) ditto. So I suppose that I
have lost my Appetite for all but dull Woodbridge Life. I have not lost
my Cold--nor all its bronchial symptoms; but may do so--as I get a little
older.

Tennyson was in London, I heard: but in some grand Locality of Eaton
Square; so I did not venture down to him. But a day scarcely passes
without my thinking of him, in one way or other.

Browning told Mrs. Kemble he knew there was 'a grotesque side' to his
Society, etc., but he could not refuse the kind solicitations of his
Friends, Furniva