You have sent me two or three kind messages through Barton. I hear you
come into Suffolk the middle of January. My movements are as yet
uncertain; the lawyers may call me back to London very suddenly: but
should I be here at the time of your advent, you must really contrive to
come here, to this Cottage, for a day or two. I have yet beds, tables,
and chairs for two: I think Gurdon is also looking out for you.
I only returned home a few days ago, to spend Christmas with Barton:
whose turkey I accordingly partook of. He seems only pretty well: is
altered during the last year: less spirits, less strength; but quite
amiable still.
I saw many of my friends in London, Carlyle and Tennyson among them; but
most and best of all, Spedding. I have stolen his noble book {241} away
from him; noble, in spite (I believe, but am not sure) of some
_adikology_ in the second volume: some special pleadings for his idol:
amica Veritas, sed magis, etc. But I suppose you will think this the
intolerance of a weak stomach.
I also went to plays and concerts which I could scarce afford: but I
thought I would have a Carnival before entering on a year of reductions.
I have been trying to hurry on, and bully, Lawyers: have done a very
little good with much trouble; and cannot manage to fret much though I am
told there is great cause for fretting.
Farewell for the present: come and see me if we be near Woodbridge at the
same time: remember me to all who do remember me: and believe me yours as
ever,