I received your welcome letter on arriving here last night, and am
rejoiced to hear that the dear children are so much better. I hope that
in your next, or your next but one, I shall learn that they are quite
well. A thousand kisses to them. I wish I could convey them myself.
We found a roaring fire, an elegant dinner, a snug room, and capital
beds all ready for us at Leamington, after a very agreeable (but very
cold) ride. We started in a postchaise next morning for Kenilworth, with
which we were both enraptured, and where I really think we MUST have
lodgings next summer, please God that we are in good health and all goes
well. You cannot conceive how delightful it is. To read among the ruins
in fine weather would be perfect luxury. From here we went on to Warwick
Castle, which is an ancient building, newly restored, and possessing no
very great attraction beyond a fine view and some beautiful pictures;
and thence to Stratford-upon-Avon, where we sat down in the room where
Shakespeare was born, and left our autographs and read those of other
people and so forth.
We remained at Stratford all night, and found to our unspeakable dismay
that father's plan of proceeding by Bridgenorth was impracticable, as
there were no coaches. So we were compelled to come here by way of
Birmingham and Wolverhampton, starting at eight o'clock through a cold
wet fog, and travelling, when the day had cleared up, through miles of
cinder-paths and blazing furnaces, and roaring steam-engines, and such a
mass of dirt, gloom, and misery as I never before witnessed. We got
pretty well accommodated here when we arrived at half-past four, and are
now going off in a postchaise to Llangollen--thirty miles--where we
shall remain to-night, and where the Bangor mail will take us up
to-morrow. Such are our movements up to this point, and when I have
received your letter at Chester I shall write to you again and tell you
when I shall be back. I can say positively that I shall not exceed the
fortnight, and I think it very possible that I may return a day or two
before it expires.
We were at the play last night. It was a bespeak--"The Love Chase," a
ballet (with a phenomenon!), divers songs, and "A Roland for an Oliver."
It is a good theatre, but the actors are very funny. Browne laughed with
such indecent heartiness at one point of the entertainment, that an old
gentleman in the next box suffered the most violent indignation. The
bespeak party occupied two boxes, the ladies were full-dressed, and the
gentlemen, to a man, in white gloves with flowers in their button-holes.
It amused us mightily, and was really as like the Miss Snevellicci
business as it could well be.
My side has been very bad since I left home, although I have been very
careful not to drink much, remaining to the full as abstemious as usual,
and have not eaten any great quantity, having no appetite. I suffered
such an ecstasy of pain all night at Stratford that I was half dead
yesterday, and was obliged last night to take a dose of henbane. The
effect was most delicious. I slept soundly, and without feeling the
least uneasiness, and am a great deal better this morning; neither do I
find that the henbane has affected my head, which, from the great effect
it had upon me--exhilarating me to the most extraordinary degree, and
yet keeping me sleepy--I feared it would. If I had not got better I
should have turned back to Birmingham, and come straight home by the
railroad. As it is, I hope I shall make out the trip.
God bless you, my darling. I long to be back with you again and to see
the sweet Babs.
Your faithful and most affectionate Husband.
[Sidenote: Master Hastings Hughes.]