as at
Eton, and Macready (also an actor's son) was at Rugby. Some such title
as "Scholastic Flunkeydom," or anything infinitely contemptuous, would
help out the meaning. Surely such a schoolmaster must swallow all the
silver forks that the pupils are expected to take when they come, and
are not expected to take away with them when they go. And of course he
could not exist, unless he had flunkey customers by the dozen.

Secondly--no, this is thirdly now--about the Christmas number. I have
arranged so to stop my readings, as to be available for it on _the 15th
of November_, which will leave me time to write a good article, if I
clear my way to one. Do you see your way to our making a Christmas
number of this idea that I am going very briefly to hint? Some
disappointed person, man or woman, prematurely disgusted with the world,
for some reason or no reason (the person should be young, I think)
retires to an old lonely house, or an old lonely mill, or anything you
like, with one attendant, resolved to shut out the world, and hold no
communion with it. The one attendant sees the absurdity of the idea,
pretends to humour it, but really thus to slaughter it. Everything that
happens, everybody that comes near, every breath of human interest that
floats into the old place from the village, or the heath, or the four
cross-roads near which it stands, and from which belated travellers
stray into it, shows beyond mistake that you can't shut out the world;
that you are in it, to be of it; that you get into a false position the
moment you try to sever yourself from it; and that you must mingle with
it, and make the best of it, and make the best of yourself into the
bargain.

If we could plot out a way of doing this together, I would not be afraid
to take my part. If we could not, could we plot out a way of doing it,
and taking in stories by other hands? If we could not do either (but I
think we could), shall we fall back upon a round of stories again? That
I would rather not do, if possible. Will you think about it?

And can you come and dine at Tavistock House _on Monday, the 20th
September, at half-past five_? I purpose being at home there with the
girls that day.

Answer this, according to my printed list for the week. I am off to
Huddersfield on Wednesday morning.

I think I will now leave off; merely adding that I have got a splendid
brogue (it really is exactly like the people), and that I think of
coming out as the only l