ion, I am
sure--it would be untenable for one moment.

But _you_ ... in that case, ... would it not be good for your head if
you went at once? I praise myself for saying so to you--yet if it
really is good for you, I don't deserve the praising at all. And how
was it on Saturday--that question I did not ask yesterday--with Ben
Jonson and the amateurs? I thought of you at the time--I mean, on that
Saturday evening, nevertheless.

You shall hear when there is any more to say. May God bless you,
dearest friend! I am ever yours,

E.B.B.

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Wednesday Evening.
[Post-mark, September 25, 1845.]

I walked to town, this morning, and back again--so that when I found
your note on my return, and knew what you had been enjoining me in the
way of exercise, I seemed as if I knew, too, why that energetic fit
had possessed me and why I succumbed to it so readily. You shall never
have to intimate twice to me that such an insignificant thing, even,
as the taking exercise should be done. Besides, I have many motives
now for wishing to continue well. But Italy _just now_--Oh, no! My
friends would go through Pisa, too.

On that subject I must not speak. And you have 'more strength to
lose,' and are so well, evidently so well; that is, so much better, so
sure to be still better--can it be that you will not go!

Here are your new notes on my verses. Where are my words for the
thanks? But you know what I feel, and shall feel--ever feel--for these
and for all. The notes would be beyond price to me if they came from
some dear Phemius of a teacher--but from you!

The Theatricals 'went off' with great eclat, and the performance was
really good, really clever or better. Forster's 'Kitely' was very
emphatic and earnest, and grew into great interest, quite up to the
poet's allotted tether, which is none of the longest. He pitched the
character's key note too gravely, I thought; _beginning_ with
certainty, rather than mere suspicion, of evil. Dickens' 'Bobadil'
_was_ capital--with perhaps a little too much of the consciousness of
entire cowardice ... which I don't so willingly attribute to the noble
would-be pacificator of Europe, besieger of Strigonium &c.--but the
end of it all was really pathetic, as it should be, for Bobadil is
only too clever for the company of fools he makes wonderment for:
having once the mi