Juliana Horatia Ewing And Her Books Part 31

71, _Warwick Road_. April 9, 1883.

DEAREST MARNY,

I write a line to tell you that D. was at S. Paul's yesterday afternoon to Evensong, and to hear Liddon preach.

I know you will like to hear how very gracefully he alluded to your poor friend as "the accomplished Engineer," and to Charrington and Palmer. Of the last--he spoke very feelingly--as to his great loss from the learning point of view. He said--or to this effect--"We laid them here last Friday in the faith of Him who died for their sins and ours, and this is the first Sunday when above their ashes we commemorate that Resurrection through which we hope that they and we shall rise again." The "Drum Band" was duly played after the service, and D. says that crowds remained to listen.

I know you will like to hear this, though I have given a bad second-hand account.

I hope my Goodman gets to Malta to-day or to-morrow!

Ever, dearest Marny, Your loving J.H.E.

TO A.E.

April 24, 1883.

... I sent you a telegram this morning to make you feel quite happy in your holiday. "Real good times" (a Yankeeism I hate, but it is difficult to find its brief equivalent!) are not so common in "this wale" that you should cut yours short. I rather hope this may be in time to catch you (it is not _my_ fault that you will be without letters). If you would like to linger longer--Do. You are not likely to find "the like of" your present surroundings on leave in Scotland, least of all as to sunshine and flowers. One doesn't go to Malta every day. I wish I was there! But I can't be, and ten to one should catch typhoid where you only smell orange-blossoms, and I don't think my sins run in the Dog-in-the-manger line, and I hope you'll quaff your cup of content as deeply as you can.

For one thing winter has returned. We had snow yesterday, and the east wind, the Beast Wind! through which I went this morning to send your telegram was simply killing; dust like steel filings driving into your skin, waves of hard dust with dirty paper foam.--Ugh!!--Spend as much of your leave as you and your friends think well where you are. I've waited three years. I can wait an odd three weeks and welcome!

Especially as I am up to my eyes in packing and arranging matters for our new home. What I do hope is you will be happy _there_! But I believe in laying in happiness like caloric. A good roast keeps one warm a long time!

How often I have thought that philosophers who argue from the premiss of the fleeting nature of pleasure, might give pause if they had had my experience. A body so frail that _nearly_ every pleasure of the senses has had to be enjoyed chiefly after it had "fleeted"--by the memory. Pictures (one of my chiefest pleasures), the theatre, any great sight, sound, or event, being a pleasure after they (and the _headache_!) have pa.s.sed away. The "pa.s.sing pleasures" of life are just those which this world gives very capriciously, but cannot take away! They are possessions as real as ... marqueterie chairs! Of which--more anon,--when you return to the domestic hearth.

I had such a round in Wardour Street the other day! I do wish for a Dutch marqueterie chest of drawers with toilet gla.s.s attached, but he is 8! Too much. But (I _must_ let it out!) I got two charming Dutch marqueterie chairs for my drawing-room for 35/- each. You will be surprised to find what nice things we have!...

TO MRS. JELF.

_7, Mount Street, Taunton._ June 3, 1883.

DEAREST MARNY,

I know you forgive a long silence--especially as I have "packed in spite of you "!

I took lots of time over it all. All my "remains" are piled in cases in the attics, and I have arranged "terms" with the Great Western, and hope to do my moving very cheaply.

We had need economize somewhere, for, my dear! we have been VERY extravagant over our house!!! I should like to hear if you and your dear ladies (I know Auntie would be candid!) think we have been wisely so!--Our predecessor had a cottage and garden for 35--the Col. Commanding only paid 55--and we are paying 70!!!

It is a question of _three things_: 1st, higher and healthier situation--2nd, modern appliances and drains unconnected with the old town sewers--3rd, my Goodman took a wild fancy to the house--and picked his own den--and said he could "live and be at peace" there: and this means life and death to _me_!

So we have boldly taken this other house! A mile _above_ the town--on high ground, built by one of the sanitary commission (!), brand new--and with a glorious view. Not a stick in the garden! but things grow fast here. I shall have a charming drawing room 24 feet long (so it will hold me!!!), with two quaint little fire-places with blue tiles. Rex has a very nice den with French doors into the garden, where he seems to hope to "attain Nirwana"--and live apart from the world. Small as I am, I have an odd liking for large rooms (the oxygen partly--and partly that I "quarterdeck" so when I am working--and suffer so in my spine and head from close heat). Now it is _very_ hot here. There's no doubt about it! So, on the whole, I hope we've done well to house ourselves as we have. And we _can_ give a comfortable bedroom to a friend! My dear Marny--you _must_ come and see me! It's really a quaint old town--with a rather foreign-looking cloistered "Place"--and a curious Sat.u.r.day Market--with such nice red pottery on sale!!

Now to go back--and tell you about my Goodman. He had three weeks of "real high time" in Malta. Then he came home--to Warwick Road. At first I thought him much _hot-climatized_, and was worried. But he is now looking as well as can be. We had a few very happy days at Ecclesfield. It is a most tender spot with me that he is so fond of my old home! They know his ways--he says he is at peace--and he rambles about among the old books--and the people in the village are so glad to see him--and it is very nice.

He took up his duties here on our 16th wedding day!

The place suits him admirably. I felt sure it would. But I did not hope _I_ should feel as well in it as I do. It IS hot--and not VERY dry--but it is _much_ less relaxing than I thought, and where we have got our house it is high and breezy--and very, very nice. I am most thankful, and only long to get settled and be able to work!

We are in lodgings close to--next door to--the very fine barracks. Our room looks into the barrack-yard, and the dear bugles wake and send us to sleep!

Your loving J.H.E.

Caldecott has done _seventeen_ ill.u.s.trations to "Jackanapes."

TO MRS. A.P. GRAVES.

June 15, 1883.

MY DEAR MRS. GRAVES,

Once more I thank you for lovely flowers! including one of my chief favourites--a white Iris. It is very good of you. You do not know what pleasure they give me! If you continue to bless me with an occasional nosegay when I move into my house, I shall not so bitterly suffer from the barrenness of the garden.

This is suggestive of the nasty definition of grat.i.tude that it is a keen sense of favours to come!

I have been meaning to write to you to express something of our delight with the "Songs of Old Ireland."

Major Ewing is charmed by the melodies, on which his opinion is worth something and mine is not! and _I_ can't "read them out of a printed book" without an instrument. But--we are equally charmed by the words!!

It is a very rare pleasure to be able to give way to unmitigated enjoyment of modern verse by one's friends. Don't you know? But we have fairly raved over one after the other of these charming songs!

I do hope Mr. Graves does not consider that friendly criticisms come under the head of "personal remarks" and are offensive!

I cannot say how truly I appreciate them. Anything absolutely first-rately done of its kind is always very refreshing, and I do not see how such national songs could be done much better. They are Irish to the core!

Irish in local colour--in wealth of word variety--in poetry of the earliest and freshest type--in shallow pa.s.sion like a pebbly brook!--and in a certain comicality and shrewdness. Irish--I was going to say in refinement, but that is not the word--modern literature is full of refinements--but Irish in the surpa.s.singly Irish grace of purity, so rare a quality in modern verse!

How we have laughed over Father O'Flynn! Kitty Bawn is perfect of its kind--and No. 1 and No. 2.

It is a most graceful collection. Will it be published soon? My husband says this copy is only a proof.

I am unjustifiably curious to know if Mr. Graves has given much labour and polishing to these fresh impetuous things. It is against all my experiences if he has _not_!--but then it would be an addition to my experiences to find they were "tossed off"!

They have been a pleasant interlude amid the sordid cares of driving the workmen along! I am getting terribly tired of it!

Yours very sincerely, JULIANA HORATIA EWING.