My "lost character" was one of those awful documents occasionally to be
met with, which WILL be everywhere. It glared upon me from every drawer
I had, fell out of books, lurked under keys, hid in empty inkstands, got
into portfolios, frightened me by inscrutably passing into locked
despatch-boxes, and was not one character, but a thousand. This was when
I didn't want it. I look for it this morning, and it is nowhere!
Probably will never be beheld again.
But it was very unlike this one; and there is no doubt that when these
ventures come out good, it is only by lucky chance and coincidence. She
never mentioned my love of order before, and it is so remarkable (being
almost a _dis_order), that she ought to have fainted with surprise when
my handwriting was first revealed to her.
I was very sorry to leave Rockingham the other day, and came away in
quite a melancholy state. The Birmingham people were very active; and
the Shrewsbury gentry quite transcendent. I hope we shall have a very
successful and dazzling trip. It is delightful to me to think of your
coming to Birmingham; and, by-the-bye, if you will tell me in the
previous week what hotel accommodation you want, Mr. Wills will look to
it with the greatest pleasure.
Your bookseller ought to be cashiered. I suppose "he" (as Rogers calls
everybody's husband) went out hunting with the idea of diverting his
mind from dwelling on its loss. Abortive effort!
Charley brings this with himself.
With kindest regards and remembrances,
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson, most faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. Charles Knight.]