Chapter XI: Part IV (7)

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 passion 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 surpassingly 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.

TO MRS. GOING.

_Villa Ponente, Taunton._ July 11, 1883.

DEAR MADAM,

Your letter was forwarded to me last month, when I was (and to some extent am still) very very busy in the details of setting up a new home--of the temporary nature of military homes!--as Major Ewing has been posted to Taunton.

As yet there are many things on which I cannot "lay my hand," and a copy of the Tug of War Hymn is among them!

When I can find it--I will lend it to you. Should I omit to do so--please be good enough to jog my memory!

It is a rather "ranting" tune-but has tender associations for my ears.

The soldiers of the Iron Church, South Camp, Aldershot, used to "bolt" with it in the manner described, and some dear little sons of an R.E. officer always called it the "Tug of War Hymn."

With many thanks for your kind sayings, I am, dear Madam,

Yours very truly, JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

TO THE REV. J. GOING.

October 11, 1883.

DEAR MR. GOING,

I append a rough plan of my small garden. We do not stand dead E. and W., but perhaps a little more so than the arrows show. We are very high and the winds are often high too! The walls are brick--and that south bed is very warm. I mean to put bush roses down what is marked the Potato Patch--it is the original soil with one year's potato crop where I am mixing vegetables and flowers. The borders are given up to flowers--mixed herbaceous ones. And on my south wall I have already planted a Wistaria, a blue Passion-flower--and a Rose of Sharon! I am keeping a warm corner for "Fortune's Yellow"--and now looking forward with more delight and gratitude than I can express to "Cloth of Gold"!

I have sent to order the "well-rotted"--and the Gardener for Saturday morning!

Now will you present my grateful acknowledgments to Mrs. Going, and say that with some decent qualms at my own greediness--I "too-too" gratefully accept her further kind offers. I deeply desire some "Ladders to Heaven"--(does she know that old name for Lilies of the Valley?)--and I am devoted to pansies and have only a scrap or two. A neighbour _has_ given me a few Myosotis--but I am a daughter of the horse-leech I fear where flowers are concerned, and if you really have one or two TO SPARE I thankfully accept. The truly Irish liberality of Mrs. Going's suggestions--emboldens me to ask if you happen to have in your garden any of the Hellebores? I have one good clump of Xmas Rose--but I have none of those green-faced varieties for which I have a peculiar predilection.

(I do not expect much sympathy from you! In fact I fear you will think that any one whose taste is so grotesque as to have a devotion for Polyanthuses--Oxlips--Green Hellebores--every variety of Arum (including the "stinking" one!)--Dog's-tooth violets--Irises--Auriculas--coloured primroses--and such dingy and undeveloped denizens of the flower garden--is hardly worthy to possess the glowing colours and last results of development in the Queen of flowers!)

But I DO appreciate roses I assure you.

And I am most deeply grateful to you for letting me benefit by--what is in itself such a treat! your--enthusiasm.

Mrs. Going seems to think that my soil and situation are better than yours.

Could it be possible that you might have any rose under development that you would care to deposit here for the winter and fetch away in the spring? I don't know if change of air and soil is ever good for them?

I fear you'll think mine a barren little patch on which to expend your kindness! But you are a true _Ama_--teur--and will look at my Villa Garden through _rose_-coloured spectacles!

Yours gratefully, J.H.E.

TO MRS. JELF,

October 19, 1883.

DEAREST MARNY,

* * * * *

One bit more of egotism before I stop!

You know how I love my bit of garden!--An admirer--specially of "Laetus"--whom I had never seen--an Irishman--and a Dorsetshire Parson. (But who had worked for over twenty years in the slums of London--which it is supposed only the Salvation Army venture to touch!)--

--arrived here last Saturday with nineteen magnificent climbing roses, and has covered two sides of my house and the south wall of my garden!--but one sunny corner has been kept sacred to Aunty's Passion-flower, which is doing well--and one for a rose Mrs. Walkinshaw has promised me. He is a very silent Irishman--a little alarming--possibly from the rather brief, authoritative ways which men who have worked big parishes in big towns often get. When Rex said to him, at luncheon--"How did you who are a Rose Fancier and such a flower maniac--LIVE all those years in such a part of London?" in rather a muttered sort of way he explained,

"Well, I had a friend a little out of town who had a garden, and his wife wanted flowers, and they knew nothing about it: so I made a compact. I provided the roses--I made the soil--I planted them--and I used to go and prune them and look after them. They were _magnificent_".

"Oh, then you _had_ flowers?"

"Well, I made a compact. They never picked a rose on Saturday. On Saturday night I used to go and clear the place. I had roses over my church on Sundays--and all Festivals. The rest of the year his wife had them."

It struck me as a most touching story--for the man is Rose Maniac. What a sight those roses must have been to the eyes of such a congregation! The Church should have been dedicated to S. Dorothea! He is of the most modest order of Paddies--and as I say a little alarming. I was _appalled_ when I saw the _hedge_ of the "finest-named" roses he brought, and it was very difficult to "give thanks" adequately!--I said once--"I really simply cannot tell you the pleasure you have given me." He said rather grumpily--"You've given me pleasure enough--and to lots of others." Then he suddenly _chirped_ up and said--"Laetus cost me _2s. 6d._ though. My wife bet me _2s. 6d._ I couldn't read it aloud without crying. I thought I could. But after a page or two--I put my hand in my pocket--I said--There! take your half-crown, and let me cry comfortably when I want to!!!"

My dear, what a screed I have written to you!!

But your letter this morning _was_ a pleasure. There is something so nice in your getting the very hut where--as I think--"Old Father" first began to recover after Cyprus-fever. I wish you had had F. to stride about the old lines also--and knock his head against your door-tops!--Best love to R., F., and the Queers--

Your loving, J.H.E.

Dec. 3, 1883.

MY DEAREST MARNY,

You are always so forbearing!--and I have been driven to a degree by work which I had promised, and have just despatched! Some day it may appeal to "the Queers." For it is a collated (and Bowdlerized!) version of the old Peace Egg Mumming Play for Christmas. I have been often asked about it: and the other day a Canon Portal wrote to me, and he urged me to try and do it, and it is done!

But it was a much larger matter than I had thought. The version I have made up is made up from five different versions, and I hope I have got the cream of them. It will be in the January number, which will be out before Xmas.

I have also been trying to see my way--I SHOULD so like to go to you--and if I can't yet awhile I hope you'll give me another chance.

This week I certainly cannot--thank you, dear! And I _don't_ see my way in December at all. I will _post-card_ you in a day or two again.

I am yours always lovingly, J.H.E.

My garden is great joy to me. Even you, I think, would allow me a moderate amount of "grubbing" in between brain work.

TO MRS. GOING.

Thursday (December 1883).

MY DEAR MRS. GOING,

You are too profusely good to me. Have you really _given me_ Quarles? I have never even seen his _School of the Heart_, and am charmed with it. The Hieroglyphics of the life of Man were in the very old copy of _Emblems_ belonging to my Mother which I have known all my life.

Thank you a thousand times.

I write for a seemingly ungracious purpose, but I know you will comprehend my infirmities! I am not at all well. I had hoped to be better by the time your young ladies came--but luck (and I fear a little chill in the garden!) have been against me. I tried to get _Macbeth_ deferred but it could not be--and I think my only hope of enduring a long drive, and appearing as Lady Macbeth on Saturday evening with any approach to "undaunted mettle"--is to shut myself up in absolute silence and rest for several hours before we start. This, alas! means that it would be better for your young ladies (what is left of them, after brain fag and fish dinners!) to return to you by an earlier train, as I could be "no account" to them on Saturday afternoon.

* * * * *

_I'll take care_ of _the poor students_ though I _am_ not at my best! Their fish is ordered. We will spend a soothing evening on sofas and easy chairs--and go early to bed! They shall have breakfast in bed if they like. This does not sound amusing but I think it will be wholesome for their relics!

Again thanking you for the dear little book--which comes in so nicely for Advent!

TO MRS. R.H. JELF.

DEAREST MARNY,

The Queers' letters are VERY nice. Thank them with my love.

* * * * *

Forgive pencil, dear--I'm in bed. Got rid of my throat--and now all my "body and bones" seem to have given way, I thought it was lumbago or sciatica--but Rex said--"Simply nerve exhaustion from over-writing"--so I took to bed (for I couldn't walk!), high living and quinine! I hope I'll soon be round again. The vile body is a nuisance. I've got a story in my head--and that seems to take the vital force out of my legs!!!

Apropos to Richard's _Churchwarden's_ conscience, does he remember the (possibly churchwarden!) "soul long hovering in fear and doubt"--in À Kempis, who prostrated himself in prayer and groaned--"Oh if I only _knew that I should persevere_!" To whom came the answer of God--"If thou _didst_ know it, what wouldst thou do then? Continue to _do that_ and thou shalt be safe."

His letter and yours were _very_ comforting. I was just feeling very low about my writing. I always do when I have to re-read for new editions! It does seem such twaddle--and so unlike what I want to say!

Thank you greatly for believing in me!

* * * * *

Your loving, J.H.E.

TO MRS. HOWARD.

_Villa Ponente, Taunton._ Jan. 18, 1884.

MY DEAR MRS. HOWARD,

In this Green Winter (and _you_ know how I love a Green Winter!) you and all your kindness comes back so often to my mind. "Grenoside" is a closed leaf in my life as well as in yours, but it is one that I shall never forget so long as I can remember any of the things that have mitigated the pains of life for me, or added to its pleasures!--The bits of Green Winter I enjoyed with you did both--I hardly know which the most! For the pleasure was very great, and the benefit immeasurable--though now a fair amount of strength and "all my faculties" have come back to me, I feel what a very tedious companion I must have been when _vegetating_ was all I was fit for, and I did such delightful vegetating between your sofa--and Greno Wood.

I want to tell you that I have some bits of you in what does the work of Greno Wood for me here--namely, my little patch of garden, looking out upon, what I call _my_ big fields. For some time I feared the said bits were not going to live, but they have now, I really think, got grip of the ground. They are those offshoots of your American Bramble which you gave to me. And, ere long, I hope to sow a little paper of your poppy seed, and--if two years' keeping has not destroyed its vitality--I may, perchance, send you some of your own poppies to deck your London rooms. You cannot think--or rather I have no doubt that you can!--the refreshment my bit of garden is to me. It has become so dear, that (like an ugly face one loves and ceases to see plain!)--I find it so charming that it is _with a start_ that I recognize that new friends see no beauty in--

[_Sketch._]

This four-square patch!!

But A and B are "beds," and there are borders under the brick walls, and a rose-growing admirer of "Laetus" made a pilgrimage to see me!--and brought me nineteen grand climbing roses--and wall S faces _nearly quite_ south, and on it grow Maréchal Niel, and Cloth of Gold, and Charles Lefebvre, and Triomphe de Rennes, and a Banksia and Souvenir de la Malmaison, and Cheshunt Hybrid, and a bit of the old Ecclesfield summer white rose--sent by Undine--and some Passion Flowers from dear old Miss Child in Derbyshire--and a _Wistaria_ which the old lady of _the lodgings_ we were in when we first came, tore up, and gave to me, with various other _oddments_ from her garden! and--the American Bramble! And also, by the bye, a very lovely rose, "Fortune's Yellow,"--given to me by a friend in Hampshire.

Major Ewing declares my borders are "so full _there is no room for more_" which is very nasty of him!--but I have been very lucky in preserving, and even multiplying, the various contributions my bare patch has been blessed with! D. sent me a _barrel_ of bits last autumn from the Vicarage, and Reginald sent me an excellent hamper from Bradfield, and Col. Yeatman sent me a hamper from Wiltshire, and several friends here have given me odds and ends, and our old friend Miss Sulivan, before she went abroad, sent me a farewell memorial of sweet things--Lavender, Rosemary, Cabbage Rose, Moss Rose, and Jessamine!!!--Oh! talking of sweet things, I must tell you--I went into the market here one day this last autumn, and of a man standing there--I bought a dug-up clump of BAY _tree_--for 2/6.

You know how you indulged my senses with bay leaves when I was far from them? Well, I put my clump and myself into a cab and went home--where I pulled my clump to pieces and made eight nice plants of him--and set me a bay hedge, which has thriven so far very well!!! But then--'tis a Green Winter!

Now I want to know if there is a chance of tempting you down here for a little visit? I have thought that perhaps some time in the Spring the School might be taking holiday, and Harry might be striding off on a week or 10 days' country "breathe,"--and perhaps you would come to me? Or if he were inclined for fresh fields and pastures new, that you would come together, and he might make his head-quarters here, and go over to Glastonbury, etc., etc., etc., whilst we took matters more quietly at home?

I feel it is a long way to come, but it would be so very pleasant to me to welcome you under my own roof!

If you cannot get away in Spring, I _must_ persuade you when London gets hotter and less pleasant!

You _must_ miss your country home--and yet I envy you a few things! London has cords of charm to attract in many ways! I wish I could _fly over_, and see the Sir Joshuas and one or two things.

(I am stubbornly indifferent to the _Spectator's_ dictum that we like "Sir Joshuas" because we are a nation of snobs!!!)

Ever affectionately yours, JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

Do tell me what hope there is of seeing you--and showing you your own bramble on my own wall!

TO MRS. GOING.

March 11, 1884.

MY DEAR MRS. GOING,

I do not think you will ever let me have my Head Gardener here again!

I CAN'T take care of him!

I really could have sat down on the door-step and cried--when our old cabby--"the family coachman" as we call him, arrived and had missed Mr. Going. How _he_ did not miss his train, I cannot conceive! He must have run--he must have flown--he _must_ be a bit uncanny--and the flap-ends of the comforter must have spread into wings--or our clocks must have been beforehand--or the trains were behindhand--

Obviously luck favours him!!

But where was his great-coat?--

He got very damp--and there was no time to hang him out to dry!

Tell him with my love--I have been nailing up the children in the way they should go--and have made a real hedge of cuttings!

I wish the Weeding Woman could see my old Yorkshire "rack." It and its china always lend themselves to flowers, I think. The old English coffee-cups are full of primroses. In a madder-crimson Valery pot are Lent lilies--and the same in a peacock-blue fellow of a pinched and selfish shape. The white violets are in a pale grey-green jar (a miniature household jar) of Marseilles pottery. The polyanthuses singularly become a pet _Jap_ pot of mine of pale yellow with white and black design on it--and a gold dragon--and a turquoise-coloured lower rim.

I am VERY flowery. I must catch the post. I do hope my Head Gardener is not in bed with rheumatic fever!!!! I trust your poor back is rather easier?

Please most gratefully thank the girls for me.

Yours gratefully and affectionately, J.H.E.

TO THE REV. J. GOING.

All Fools, 1884.

MY DEAR HEAD GARDENER,

You are too good, and--as to the confusion of one's principles is sometimes the case--your virtues encourage my vices. You make me greedy when I ought only to be grateful.

I've been too busy to write at once, and also somewhat of set purpose abstained--for those bitter winds and hard-caked soil were not suited for transplantation, and still less fit for you to be playing the part of Honest Root-gatherer without your Cardigan Waistcoat!!!!

To-day

"a balmy south wind blows."

I feel convinced some poet says so. If not I do, and it's a fact.

Moreover by a superhuman--or anyhow a super-frail-feminine--effort last Saturday as ever was I took up all that remained of the cabbage garden--spread the heap of ashes, marked out another path by rule of line (not of thumb, as I planted those things you took up and _set straight_!), made my new walk, and edged it with the broken tiles that came off our roof when "the stormy winds did blow"--an economy which pleased me much. Thus I am now entirely flower-garden--and with room for more flowers!!

Now to your kind offer. I think it will take rather more than 50 bunches of primroses to complete the bank according to your plan--though not 100. Say 70: but if there are a few bunches to spare I shall put them down that border where the laurels are, against the wall under the ivy. They flower there, and other things don't.

Now about the wild daffodils--indeed I _would_ like some!!! I fear I should like enough to do this: [_Sketch._]

These be the Poets' narcissus along the edge of the grass above the strawberry bank, and I don't deny I think it would be nice to have a row of wild Daffys (where the red marks are) to precede the same narcissus next spring if we're spared! The Daffys to be planted _in the grass_ of the grass-plat.

I doubt if less than two dozen clumps would 'do it handsome'!!!!!!!!

Now I want your good counsel. This is my back garden: [_Sketch._]

Next to Slugs and Snails (to which I have recently added a specimen of)

Puppy Dog's Tails--

my worst enemy is--WIND!

The laurels are growing--for that matter, Xmas is coming!--but still we are very shelterless. I think I would like to plant in Bed A, _inter alia_--some shrubby things. Now I know your views about moving shrubs are somewhat wider than those of the every-day gardener's--but do you think I dare plant a bush of lauristinus now? It would have to travel a little way, I fancy. There is no man actually in Taunton, I fear, with good shrubs. I mean also to get some Japanese maples. I think I would like a copper-coloured-leaved _nut tree_. Are nuts hardy? I fear Gum Cistus is coming into flower--and unfit to move! How about rhododendrons? The soil here is said to suit them wonderfully. I could not pretend to buy peat for them--but I know hardy sorts will do in a firm fair soil, and I should like to plant a lilac one--a crimson--a blush--and a white. I think they would do fairly and shelter small fry.

_Can I risk it now?_ and how about hardy azaleas--things I love! If you say--we are too near summer sun for them to get established--I must wait till Autumn.

How has Mrs. Going stood the biting winds? Very unfavourable for one's aches and pains?

Tell her I have got one of those rather queer yellow flowers you condescended to notice!--to bring to her after Easter.

Is it not terrible about Prince Leopold? That poor young wife--and the Queen! What bitter sorrow she has known; also I do regard the loss as a great one for the country, he was so enlightened and so desirous of use in his generation.

Yours, J.H.E.

TO MRS. JELF.

MY DEAREST MARNY,

Thank you, dear, with much love for your Easter card. It is LOVELY (and Easter cards are not very beautiful as a rule). It is on a little stand on my knick-knack table--and looks so well!

I send you a few bits from my garden as an Easter Greeting. They are not much--but we are in a "nip" of bitter N.E. winds--and nothing will "come out."

Also I rather denuded my patch to send a large box to Undine to make the Easter wreaths for my Mother's grave. I was really rather proud of what I managed to scrape together--every bit out of my very own patch--and consequently of my very own planting!

I've got neuralgia to-day with the wind and a fourteen-miles drive for luncheon and two sets of callers since I got back!--so I can't write a letter--but I want you to tell me when you think there's a chance of your taking a run to see me! I seem to have such lots to say! I have found another charm (besides red pots) of our market. If one goes _very early_ on Saturday--one gets such nice old-fashioned flowers, "roots," and big ones too--very cheap! It's a most fascinating _ruination by penny-worths_!

Good luck to you, dear, in your fresh settling down in the Heimath Land.

Mrs. M---- (where we were _lunching_) asked tenderly after my large young family--as strangers usually do. Then she said, "But you write so sympathetically of children, and 'A Soldier's Children' is so real--I thought they MUST be yours." On which I explained the Dear Queers to her. To whom be love! and to Richard.

Ever, dear, yours lovingly, J.H.E.

TO MRS. GOING.

Midsummer Day, 1884.

MY DEAR MRS. GOING,

Not a moment till now have I found--to tell you I got home safe and sound, and that your delicious cream was duly and truly appreciated!

The last of it was merged in an admirable Gooseberry Fool!

The roses suffered by the hot journey--but even the least flourishing of them received great admiration--from their size--as the skeletons of saurians make a smaller world stand aghast!!!

This last sentence smacks of Jules Verne! I don't care much for him--after all. It is rather _bookmaking_.

But I have had a lot of hearty laughs over "the Heroine"! It is very funny--if not _very_ refined. Some of the situations admirable. There is something in the girl's calling her father "Wilkinson" all the way through--quite as comic as anything in _Vice Versâ_--a book which I never managed to get to the end of.

I hope your wedding went well to-day. My sister's--is postponed till the 28th--for the convenience of the best man. If _by Thursday_ (you must be a full two days' post from a Yorkshire country place) the Master had _one or two_ Bouquet D'Or or other white or yellow roses not very fully blown--and your handy Meta would wind wet rags about their stalks and put them in an empty coffee-tin and despatch them by parcels post to Miss Gatty, Ecclesfield Vicarage, Sheffield, Yorks, they would be greatly welcomed to eke out the white decorations of my Mother's grave for the wedding-day. I am wildly watering my Paris Daisies--and hope to get some wild Ox-eye daisies also--as her name was Margaret (and her pet name Meta!). I am applying prayers and slopwater in equal proportions--like any Kelt!--to my Bouquet D'Or and other white and yellow roses! I shall have some double white Canterbury Bells, etc.--but there is coming a _lull_ in the flowers, and they won't re-bloom much till we have rain.

Please give my love to all your party, not forgetting the house dove and the dog--

I reproach my Rufus with his tricks and talents!

I have had great benefit in a fit of neuralgia from your chili paste.

Yours, dear Mrs. Going, Sincerely and affectionately, JULIANA HORATIA EWING.

TO MRS. JELF.

November 3, 1884.

DEAREST MARNY,

Enclosed is "Daddy Darwin"--for Richard!--and two of the Verse Books for the two dear Queers I had so many luncheons with!

You know I risked printing 20,000 D.D.D. on my own book to cheapen printing--so you'll be glad to hear that after ordering 10,000 at the beginning of last week--S.P.C.K. have ordered another 10,000 at the end of it!! But I've been having _such_ "times" with the printers' and publishers' dæmons!!

I must not write, however, for I have been ill also!! A throat attack. We were afraid of diphtheria--but if it were that I should not be writing to you as you'll guess. There has been another outbreak of it just round us, and a good many throats of sorts in its train, but Dr. L---- does not seem to think mine due to much more than exhaustion--and he seemed to think nursing the dog had not been very good for me. He says distemper is typhoid fever!

We had a very jolly little visit from Colonel C----. He was at his _very_ funniest. Mimicked us both to our faces till we yelled again! As Rex said--"Not a bit altered! The old man! _Would any other play the bones about his bedroom in his night-shirt?_"

He went off waving farewells and shouting--"We'll _both_ come next time--and rouse ye well."

Your loving, J.H.E.

Saturday.

DEAREST MARNY,

You have indeed the sympathy of my whole heart!

God bless and prosper "Old Father" on the war-path and bring him home to his Queers and to you full of honour and glory and interesting experiences!

I know Mr. Anstruther--he is charming. I cannot say how I think it softens one's fears if Richard's strength were still a bit unequal to the strain--to know that he has such a subaltern--adjutant--and C.R.E. He could not have gone arm-in-arm with better comrades--unless the Giant had been ready as sick-nurse in case of need!

But I do feel for you, dear--you are very gallant.

I am not fit to write yet--my head _goes_ so--but I will write you next week about Gordon Browne (a thousand thanks!) and see if _I_ possibly could. Thank you so much.

The drummer's letter is charming. I must copy the bit about tip-toe for Sir Evelyn Wood! I got the enclosed from him--also from Wady Halfa--and I wanted you and R---- to hear the weird drum-band drunkard tale! and see how he likes "Soldier's Children."

Can you kindly return it, dear?

Your most loving, J.H.E.

[_In pencil._]

Where does R---- sail from?

I see by to-day's _Times_ the others have sailed from Dartmouth. My dear Marny--can't you and R---- come here _en route_ if only for a night? It _would_ be so nice! It would be such a pleasure to Rex and me to Godspeed him--and he would feel _quite like Gladstone_ if he had an ovation at every stopping point on the Flying Dutchman!

TO COLONEL JELF.

November 18, 1884.

DEAR RICHARD,

I wish you _could_ have paused here--I wish that you were even likely to run through Taunton station in the Flying Dutchman, and that we could have run down to head a cheer for you!--But Gravesend is handier for Marny.

She's a real Briton--and it is that "undaunted mettle" that does "compose" the sinews of "peace with honour" for a country as well as war!

Indeed I'm glad you have your chance--or make a very respectable assumption of that _virtus_! and I take leave to be doubly glad that it is in a fine climate and with good shoulder to shoulder comrades.

Tell Marny, Colonel Y. B---- in a letter about "Daddy Darwin" is very sympathetic. Another "old standard"--Jelf, he says--is going, and "Mrs. J---- puts a good face on it."

What will the theatricals and the Institute do?--

"Do without," I suppose! I am a lot better the last two days--and struggled off to the town to-day to a missionary meeting! It was a most unusually interesting one about the South American Missions. I must tell Marny about it.--However--at some tea afterwards, I was "interviewed" by one or two people--and one lady asked to introduce a "Major"--whose name I did not catch--as being so devoted to "Soldier's Children." I created quite a sensation by saying that "Old Father" was ordered to Bechuanaland--"Oh, how old are the Queers? Are they really losing Old Father again so soon?"

I feel, by the bye, that it is part of that fatality which besets you and me, that I should have stereotyped you in printers' ink as _Old_ Father!!!

Good-bye.--Godspeed and Good luck to you.

Your affectionate old friend, J.H.E.

TO THE REV. J. GOING.

December 3, 1884.

DEAR "HEAD GARDENER,"

I think there is a blessing on all your benevolences to me which defies ill luck!

After I wrote to Mrs. Going we'd a frost of ten degrees--and I got neuralgia back--and made a dismal picture in my own mind of your good things coming to an iron-bound border--and an Under Gardener deeply _died down_ under eider down and blankets--(even my old labourer being laid up with sore throat and scroomaticks!--but lo and behold, on Monday the air became like new milk--I became like a new Under Gardener--and leave was given to go out. (I am bound to confess that I don't think rose-planting was medically contemplated!) Fortunately the border was ready and well-manured--I only had to dig holes in very soft stuff--but I am very weak, and my stamping powers are never on at all a Nasmyth Hammer sort of scale--but--good luck again!--Major Ewing's orderly arrived with papers to sign--a magnificent individual over six foot--with larger boots than mine and a coal-black melodramatic moustache! Had the Major been present--I should not have dared to ask an orderly in full dress and on duty to defile his boots among Zomerset red-earth, but as I caught him alone I begged his assistance. He looked down very superbly upon me (swathed in fur and woollen shawls, and staggering under a full-sized garden fork) with a twinkle in his eye that prepared me for the least taste of brogue which kept breaking through his studied fine language--and consented most affably. I wish you'd seen him--balancing his figure with a consciousness of maids at the kitchen window, his cane held out, _toeing_ and _heeling_ your roses into their places!! He assured me he understood all about it, and he trode them in very nicely!

How good of you to have sent me such a stock,--and the pansies I wanted. The flower of that lovely mauve and purple one is on the table by me now. _One_ (only one) of your other roses died--the second Gloire near the front door--so when I saw it was hopeless I had that border "picked" up--a very rockery of rubbish came out--good stuff was put in, and one of the Souvenirs de Malmaison is now comfortably established there I hope. This wet weather keeps me a prisoner now--but it is good luck for the roses to settle in. I have had some nice scraps and remains of flowers to cheer me indoors--there are one or two late rosebuds yet!

They are such a pleasure to me--and I am indeed grateful to you for all you have done for my garden! Some of those roses I bought have thrown up hugely long shoots. They were all small plants as you know--so I cut none of them in the autumn. I suppose in the spring I had better cut off these long shoots from the bushes in the open border away from the hedge?

I must not write more--only my thanks afresh. With our best regards.

I am very gratefully yours, J.H.E.

[_Written with a typewriter._]

TO MRS. JELF.

_Taunton._ December 23, 1884.

DEAREST MARNY,

My right arm is disabled with neuralgia, and Rex is working one of his most delightful toys for me. He says I brought my afflictions on myself by writing too prolix letters several hours a day. I've got very much behindhand, or you'd have heard from me before. I must try and be highly condensed. Gordon Browne has done some wonderful drawings for "Lætus." Rex was wild over a "Death or Glory" Lancer, and I think he (the Lancer) and a Highlander would touch even Aunty's heart. They will rank among her largest exceptions. I can't do _any_ Xmas cards this year; I can neither go out nor write. I hoped to have sent you a little Xmas box, of a pair of old brass candlesticks such as your soul desireth. D. and I made an expedition to the very broker's ten days ago, but when I saw the dingy shop choke-full of newly-arrived dirty furniture, and remembered that these streets are reeking with small-pox--as it refuses to "leave us at present"--I thought I should be foolish to go in. D. knows of a pair in Ecclesfield, and I have commissioned her to annex them if possible; but they can't quite arrive in time. In case I don't manage to write Xmas greetings to Aunty and Madre, give them my dear love; and the same to yourself and the Queers. I am proud to tell you that I have persuaded my Admiral to put the Soldiers' Institute on his collecting book of Army and Navy Charities; and when I started it with a small subscription he immediately added the same.

Dear Xmas wishes to you all, and a Happy New Year to Richard also from us both.

Your loving, J.H.E.

[_In typewriting._]

TO MISS K. FARRANT.

_Taunton._ January 4, 1885.

DEAREST KITTY,

I should indeed not have been silent at this season if I had not been ill, and I should have got Rex to print me a note before now, but I kept hoping to be able to write myself, and I rather thought that you would hear that I was laid up, either from D. or M. I have not been very well for some time more than yourself, and I am afraid the root of this breakdown has been overwork. But the weather has been very sunless and wretched, and I have had a fortnight in bed with bad, periodic neuralgia, which has particularly disabled my right arm and head--two important matters in letter-writing. It put an entire stop to my Christmas greetings. I made a little effort for the nephews one day, and had a terrible night afterwards. The lovely blue (china) Dog, who reminds me of an old but incomprehensible Yorkshire saying, "to blush like a blue dog in a dark entry,"--which is what _I_ do when I think that I have not yet said "thank you" for him--is most delightful. You know how I love a bit of colour, and a quaint shape. He arrived with one foot off, but I can easily stick it on. Thank you so much. I must not say more to-day, except to hope you'll feel a little stronger when we see more of the sun; and, thanking you and Francie for your cards--(I was greatly delighted to see my friends the queer fungi again)--and with love to your Mother--who I hope is getting fairly through the winter.

Yours gratefully and affectionately, J.H. EWING.

TO MRS. JELF.

January 22, 1885.

DEAREST M.,

I am _so_ pleased you like the brazen candlesticks.

I have long wanted to tell you how _lovely_ I thought all your Xmas cards. Auntie's snow scene was exquisite--and your Angels have adorned my sick-room for nearly a month! Most beautiful.

I know you'll be glad I had my first "decent" night last night--since December 18!--No very lengthy vigils and no pain to _speak_ of. No pain to growl about to-day. A great advance.

Indeed, dear--I should not only be glad but _grateful_ to go to you by and by for a short _fillip_. Dr. L---- would have sent me away now if weather, etc. were fit--or I could move.

After desperate struggles--made very hard by illness--I hope to see "Lætus" in May at _one shilling_. Gordon Browne doing well. Do you object to the ending of "Lætus"--to Lady Jane having another son, etc.? Do the Farrants? My dear love to them. This bitter--sunless, lifeless weather must have tried Kitty very much.

* * * * *

Your loving, J.H.E.

[_In typewriting._]

_Taunton._ February 16, 1885.

MY DEAREST MARNY,

Rex is "typing" for me, but my own mouth must thank you for your goodness, for being so ready to take me in. By and by I shall indeed be grateful to go to you. But this is not likely to be for some weeks to come. You can't imagine what a Greenwich pensioner I am. I told my doctor this morning that he'd better send me up a wood square with four wheels, like those beggars in London who have no limbs; for both my legs and my right arm were _hors de combat_, and to-day he has found an inflamed vein in my left, so _that_ has gone into fomentations too.

But in spite of all this I feel better, and do hope I shall soon be up and about. But he says the risk of these veins would be likely to come if I over-exerted myself, so--anxious as I am to get to purer air, I don't think it would do to move until my legs are more fit. May I write again and tell you when I am fit for Aldershot? Dr. L---- highly approves of the air of it, but at present he thinks lying in bed the only safe course. Do thank dear Aunty next time you write to her for her goodness, and tell her that in my present state I should make her seem quite spry and active. A thousand thanks for the _Pall Mall_. I do _not_ neglect one word of what you say; but I need hardly say that I can't work at present.

The illustrations for "Lætus" are going on very well. I hope to send Richard a copy for perusal on the homeward voyage.

I daren't write about Gordon. Certainly not the least strange part of his wondrous career is this mystery which persists in clouding his close. I feel as if he would be like Enoch or Moses--that we shall never be permitted to know more than that--having walked with GOD--he "was not--for GOD took him," and that his sepulchre no man shall know.

Your loving, J.H.E.

_The present Series of Mrs. Ewing's Works is the only authorized, complete, and uniform Edition published._

_It will consist of 18 volumes, Small Crown 8vo, at 2s. 6d. per vol., issued, as far as possible, in chronological order, and these will appear at the rate of two volumes every two months, so that the Series will be completed within 18 months. The device of the cover was specially designed by a Friend of Mrs. Ewing._

_The following is a list of the books included in the Series_--

1. MELCHIOR'S DREAM, AND OTHER TALES,

2. MRS. OVERTHEWAY'S REMEMBRANCES.

3. OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY TALES.

4. A FLAT IRON FOR A FARTHING.

5. THE BROWNIES, AND OTHER TALES.

6. SIX TO SIXTEEN.

7. LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, AND OTHER TALES.

8. JAN OF THE WINDMILL.

9. VERSES FOR CHILDREN, AND SONGS.

10. THE PEACE EGG--A CHRISTMAS MUMMING PLAY--HINTS FOR PRIVATE THEATRICALS, &c.

11. A GREAT EMERGENCY, AND OTHER TALES.

12. BROTHERS OF PITY, AND OTHER TALES OF BEASTS AND MEN.

13. WE AND THE WORLD, Part I.

14. WE AND THE WORLD, Part II.

15. JACKANAPES--DADDY DARWIN'S DOVE-COTE--THE STORY OF A SHORT LIFE.

16. MARY'S MEADOW, AND OTHER TALES OF FIELDS AND FLOWERS.

17. MISCELLANEA, including The Mystery of the Bloody Hand--Wonder Stones--Tales of the Khoja, and other translations.

18. JULIANA HORATIA EWING AND HER BOOKS, with a selection from Mrs. Ewing's Letters.

S.P.C.K., NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE, LONDON, W.C.