I find that if I wait to write you a long letter (which has been the
cause of my procrastination in fulfilling my part of our agreement), I
am likely to wait some time longer. And as I am very anxious to hear
from you; not the less so, because if I hear of you through my brother,
who usually sees you once a week in my absence; I take pen in hand and
stop a messenger who is going to Genoa. For my main object being to
qualify myself for the receipt of a letter from you, I don't see why a
ten-line qualification is not as good as one of a hundred lines.
You told me it was possible that you and Mrs. Tagart might wander into
these latitudes in the autumn. I wish you would carry out that infant
intention to the utmost. It would afford us the truest delight and
pleasure to receive you. If you come in October, you will find us in the
Palazzo Peschiere, in Genoa, which is surrounded by a delicious garden,
and is a most charming habitation in all respects. If you come in
September, you will find us less splendidly lodged, but on the margin of
the sea, and in the midst of vineyards. The climate is delightful even
now; the heat being not at all oppressive, except in the actual city,
which is what the Americans would call considerable fiery, in the middle
of the day. But the sea-breezes out here are refreshing and cool every
day, and the bathing in the early morning is something more agreeable
than you can easily imagine. The orange trees of the Peschiere shall
give you their most fragrant salutations if you come to us at that
time, and we have a dozen spare beds in that house that I know of; to
say nothing of some vast chambers here and there with ancient iron
chests in them, where Mrs. Tagart might enact Ginevra to perfection, and
never be found out. To prevent which, I will engage to watch her
closely, if she will only come and see us.
The flies are incredibly numerous just now. The unsightly blot a little
higher up was occasioned by a very fine one who fell into the inkstand,
and came out, unexpectedly, on the nib of my pen. We are all quite well,
thank Heaven, and had a very interesting journey here, of which, as well
as of this place, I will not write a word, lest I should take the edge
off those agreeable conversations with which we will beguile our walks.
Pray tell me about the presentation of the plate, and whether ---- was
very slow, or trotted at all, and if so, when. He is an excellent
creature, and I respect him very much, so I don't mind smiling when I
think of him as he appeared when addressing you and pointing to the
plate, with his head a little on one side, and one of his eyes turned up
languidly.
Also let me know exactly how you are travelling, and when, and all about
it; that I may meet you with open arms on the threshold of the city, if
happily you bend your steps this way. You had better address me, "Poste
Restante, Genoa," as the Albaro postman gets drunk, and when he has lost
letters, and is sober, sheds tears--which is affecting, but hardly
satisfactory.
Kate and her sister send their best regards to yourself, and Mrs. and
Miss Tagart, and all your family. I heartily join them in all kind
remembrances and good wishes. As the messenger has just looked in at the
door, and shedding on me a balmy gale of onions, has protested against
being detained any longer, I will only say (which is not at all
necessary) that I am ever,
Faithfully yours.
P.S.--There is a little to see here, in the church way, I assure you.
[Sidenote: Mr. Clarkson Stanfield.]