d
to Mr. Walkinshaw, "How glorious the heather is this year!" and he
said, "Yes. If only it was growing on its native heath." For a minute
I couldn't tell what he meant. Then I discovered that he regards
heather as the exclusive property of bonnie Scotland!!!

I think you will be pleased to hear that I did, what I have long
wanted, yesterday. Thoroughly made Mrs. Walkinshaw's acquaintance, and
thanked her for that old invitation we never accepted to go there to
see the Chinnerys' sketches. How Scotch and _kindly_ she is! She
insisted on bringing her husband and daughters to be introduced, and
sent _warmest_ messages to you. She said she feared you must have
quite forgotten her; but I told her she was quite wrong there! She
says she has a little Chinnery she meant to give me long ago, and she
insists on sending it....

Sept. 1, 1882.

* * * * *

I must tell you that I had such a mixture of pain and pleasure at
Britwell in the nearest approach to Trouve I have ever known. A larger
dog, and not quite so "Moecent," but in character and ways his living
image. The same place on his elbow (which his Aunt was always wanting
to gum a bit of astrachan on to); he "took" to his Aunt at once!
_Nero_ by name. The sweetest temper. I have kissed the nice soft
places on his black lips and shaken hands by the hour!!! Yesterday the
others went to a garden-party, so I went on to the Downs to sketch,
and when the dogs saw me, off they came, Nero delighted, and little
Punch the Pug. They came with me all the way, and lay on the grass
while I was sketching, and Nero kept sitting down to save a corner,
and watch which way I meant to go, just like dear True! [_Sketch._]
They were very good, sitting with me on the downs, but they roamed
away into the woods after game a good deal on the road home!...

_Grenoside._ Oct 5, 1882.

* * * * *

I do so long to hear how you like the end of "Laetus." As F.S.'s tale
turned out seven pages longer than was accounted for, I had to cut out
some of _my_ story, and so have missed the point of its being S.
Martin's Day on which Leonard died. S. Martin was a soldier-saint, and
the Tug-of-War Hymn is only sung on Saints' Days.

I have completed a tale[42] for the November No., and gave a rough
design to Andre for the illustration, which will be in colours. I hope
you will like _that_. There is not a tear in it this time! "Laetus" was