People complain of Dr. Chambers and call him rough and unfeeling—­neither of which I ever found him for a moment—­and I like him for his truthfulness, which is the nature of the man, though it is essential to medical morality never to let a patient think himself mortal while it is possible to prevent it, and even Dr. Chambers may incline to this on occasion.  Still he need not have said all the good he said to me on Saturday—­he used not to say any of it; and he must have thought some of it:  and, any way, the Pisa-case is strengthened all round by his opinion and injunction, so that all my horror and terror at the thoughts of his visit, (and it’s really true that I would rather suffer to a certain extent than be cured by means of those doctors!) had some compensation.  How are you? do not forget to say!  I found among some papers to-day, a note of yours which I asked Mr. Kenyon to give me for an autograph, two years ago.

May God bless you, dearest friend.  And I have a dispensation from ‘beef and porter’ [Greek:  eis tous aionas].  ‘On no account’ was the answer!

R.B. to E.B.B.

Friday Afternoon.
[Post-mark, September 5, 1845.]

What you tell me of Dr. Chambers, ‘all the good of you’ he said, and all I venture to infer; this makes me most happy and thankful.  Do you use to attach our old [Greek:  tuphlas elpidas] (and the practice of instilling them) to that medical science in which Prometheus boasted himself proficient?  I had thought the ‘faculty’ dealt in fears, on the contrary, and scared you into obedience:  but I know most about the doctors in Moliere.  However the joyous truth is—­must be, that you are better, and if one could transport you quietly to Pisa, save you all worry,—­what might one not expect!

When I know your own intentions—­measures, I should say, respecting your journey—­mine will of course be submitted to you—­it will just be ’which day next—­month’?—­Not week, alas.

I can thank you now for this edition of your poems—­I have not yet taken to read it, though—­for it does not, each volume of it, open obediently to a thought, here, and here, and here, like my green books ... no, my Sister’s they are; so these you give me are really mine.  And America, with its ten per cent., shall have my better word henceforth and for ever ... for when you calculate, there must have been a really extraordinary circulation; and in a few months:  it is what newspapers call ‘a great fact.’  Have they reprinted the ‘Seraphim’?  Quietly, perhaps!

I shall see you on Monday, then—­

And my all-important headaches are tolerably kept under—­headaches proper they are not—­but the noise and slight turning are less troublesome—­will soon go altogether.

Bless you ever—­ever dearest friend.

R.B.

Oh, oh, oh! As many thanks for that precious card-box and jewel of a flower-holder as are consistent with my dismay at finding you only return them ... and not the costly brown paper wrappages also ... to say nothing of the inestimable pins with which my sister uses to fasten the same!