You will be glad, I know, to hear that we had a delightful passage
yesterday, and that I made a perfect phenomenon of a dinner. It is
raining hard to-day, and my back feels the draught; but I am otherwise
still mending.
I have signed, sealed, and delivered a contract for a house (once
occupied for two years by a man I knew in Switzerland), which is not a
large one, but stands in the middle of a great garden, with what the
landlord calls a "forest" at the back, and is now surrounded by flowers,
vegetables, and all manner of growth. A queer, odd, French place, but
extremely well supplied with all table and other conveniences, and
strongly recommended.
The address is:
Chateau des Moulineaux,
Rue Beaurepaire, Boulogne.
There is a coach-house, stabling for half-a-dozen horses, and I don't
know what.
We take possession this afternoon, and I am now laying in a good stock
of creature comforts. So no more at present from
Yours ever faithfully.
P.S.--Mrs. Dickens and her sister unite in kindest regards.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.]
CHATEAU DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday Night, June 18th, 1853._