I am in town for a day or two, and Forster tells me I may now write to
thank you for the happiness you have given me by honouring my name with
such generous mention, on such a noble place, in your great book. I
believe he has told you already that I wrote to him from Boulogne, not
knowing what to do, as I had not received the precious volume, and
feared you might have some plan of sending it to me, with which my
premature writing would interfere.
You know how heartily and inexpressibly I prize what you have written to
me, or you never would have selected me for such a distinction. I could
never thank you enough, my dear Landor, and I will not thank you in
words any more. Believe me, I receive the dedication like a great
dignity, the worth of which I hope I thoroughly know. The Queen could
give me none in exchange that I wouldn't laughingly snap my fingers at.
We are staying at Boulogne until the 10th of October, when I go into
Italy until Christmas, and the rest come home.
Kate and Georgina would send you their best loves if they were here, and
would never leave off talking about it if I went back and told them I
had written to you without such mention of them. Walter is a very good
boy, and comes home from school with honourable commendation. He passed
last Sunday in solitary confinement (in a bath-room) on bread and water,
for terminating a dispute with the nurse by throwing a chair in her
direction. It is the very first occasion of his ever having got into
trouble, for he is a great favourite with the whole house, and one of
the most amiable boys in the boy world. (He comes out on birthdays in a
blaze of shirt-pin).
If I go and look at your old house, as I shall if I go to Florence, I
shall bring you back another leaf from the same tree as I plucked the
last from.
Ever, my dear Landor,
Heartily and affectionately yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. John Delane.]
VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Monday, Sept. 12th, 1853._