I mean still to speak my whole thoughts—­I will do that ... even though for the mere purpose of self-satisfaction.  George came last night—­but there is an adverse star this morning, and neither of us has the opportunity necessary.  Only both he and I will speak—­that is certain.  And Arabel had the kindness to say yesterday that if I liked to go, she would go with me at whatever hazard—­which is very kind—­but you know I could not—­it would not be right of me.  And perhaps after all we may gain the point lawfully; and if not ... at the worst ... the winter may be warm (it is better to fall into the hands of God, as the Jew said) and I may lose less strength than usual, ... having more than usual to lose ... and altogether it may not be so bad an alternative.  As to being the cause of any anger against my sister, you would not advise me into such a position, I am sure—­it would be untenable for one moment.

But you ... in that case, ... would it not be good for your head if you went at once?  I praise myself for saying so to you—­yet if it really is good for you, I don’t deserve the praising at all.  And how was it on Saturday—­that question I did not ask yesterday—­with Ben Jonson and the amateurs?  I thought of you at the time—­I mean, on that Saturday evening, nevertheless.

You shall hear when there is any more to say.  May God bless you, dearest friend!  I am ever yours,

E.B.B.

R.B. to E.B.B.

Wednesday Evening.
[Post-mark, September 25, 1845.]

I walked to town, this morning, and back again—­so that when I found your note on my return, and knew what you had been enjoining me in the way of exercise, I seemed as if I knew, too, why that energetic fit had possessed me and why I succumbed to it so readily.  You shall never have to intimate twice to me that such an insignificant thing, even, as the taking exercise should be done.  Besides, I have many motives now for wishing to continue well.  But Italy just now—­Oh, no!  My friends would go through Pisa, too.

On that subject I must not speak.  And you have ’more strength to lose,’ and are so well, evidently so well; that is, so much better, so sure to be still better—­can it be that you will not go!

Here are your new notes on my verses.  Where are my words for the thanks?  But you know what I feel, and shall feel—­ever feel—­for these and for all.  The notes would be beyond price to me if they came from some dear Phemius of a teacher—­but from you!

The Theatricals ‘went off’ with great eclat, and the performance was really good, really clever or better.  Forster’s ‘Kitely’ was very emphatic and earnest, and grew into great interest, quite up to the poet’s allotted tether, which is none of the longest.  He pitched the character’s key note too gravely, I thought; beginning with certainty, rather than mere suspicion, of evil.  Dickens’ ‘Bobadil’ was capital—­with perhaps a little