When I go into Norfolk, which will be some time this Spring, I will go to
Yarmouth and see for Mr. Squire, if you like. But if he is so rusty as
you say, and as I also fancy, I doubt if he will open his treasures to
any but to you who have already set him creaking. But we shall see. Some
of his MS. extracts are curious and amusing. He writes himself something
like Antony Wood, or some such ancient book-worm. It is also curious to
hear of the old proud angry people about Peterboro', who won't show their
records.
I have not seen the lives of the Saints you spoke of in a former letter.
But when I go to London I must look out for a volume. I have begun to
read Thucydides, which I never read before, and which does very well to
hammer at for an hour in a day: though I can't say I care much for the
Greeks and their peddling quarrels; one must go to Rome for wars.
Don't you think Thackeray's Mrs. Perkins's Ball very good? I think the
empty faces of the dance room were never better done. It seems to me
wonderful that people can endure to look on such things: but I am forty,
and got out of the habit now, and certainly shall not try to get it back
ever again.
I am glad you and Mrs. Carlyle happen to be in a milder part of England
during this changeable and cold season. Yet, for my own sake, I shall be
sorry to see the winter go: with its decided and reasonable balance of
daylight and candlelight. I don't know when I shall go to London,
perhaps in April. Please to remember me to Mrs. Carlyle.
_To S. Laurence_.