how many ducats go in a figure to a ‘dozen Duchesses,’ it is profane to calculate) the comfort is that you will not be the poorer for it in the end; since the people beneath, are honest enough to push them back under the door.  Rather a bleak comfort and occupation though!—­and you may find better work for your friends, who are (some of them) weary even unto death of the uses of this life.  And now, you who are generous, be generous, and take no notice of all this.  I speak of myself, not of you so there is nothing for you to contradict or discuss—­and if there were, you would be really kind and give me my way in it.  Also you may take courage; for I promise not to vex you by thanking you against your will,—­more than may be helped.

Some of this letter was written before yesterday and in reply of course to yours—­so it is to pass for two letters, being long enough for just six.  Yesterday you must have wondered at me for being in such a maze altogether about the poems—­and so now I rise to explain that it was assuredly the wine song and no other which I read of yours in Hood’s.  And then, what did I say of the Dante and Beatrice?  Because what I referred to was the exquisite page or two or three on that subject in the ‘Pentameron.’  I do not remember anything else of Landor’s with the same bearing—­do you?  As to Montaigne, with the threads of my thoughts smoothly disentangled, I can see nothing coloured by him ... nothing.  Do bring all the Hood poems of your own—­inclusive of the ‘Tokay,’ because I read it in such haste as to whirl up all the dust you saw, from the wheels of my chariot.  The ‘Duchess’ is past speaking of here—­but you will see how I am delighted.  And we must make speed—­only taking care of your head—­for I heard to-day that Papa and my aunt are discussing the question of sending me off either to Alexandria or Malta for the winter.  Oh—­it is quite a passing talk and thought, I dare say! and it would not be in any case, until September or October; though in every case, I suppose, I should not be much consulted ... and all cases and places would seem better to me (if I were) than Madeira which the physicians used to threaten me with long ago.  So take care of your headache and let us have the ‘Bells’ rung out clear before the summer ends ... and pray don’t say again anything about clear consciences or unclear ones, in granting me the privilege of reading your manuscripts—­which is all clear privilege to me, with pride and gladness waiting on it.  May God bless you always my dear friend!

E.B.B.

You left behind your sister’s little basket—­but I hope you did not forget to thank her for my carnations.

R.B. to E.B.B.

[no date]