When I write to a great man at the
court end, he opens with surprise upon a naked note, such as Whitechapel
people interchange, with no sweet degrees of envelope. I never enclosed
one bit of paper in another, nor understood the rationale of it. Once
only I sealed with borrowed wax, to set Walter Scott a-wondering, signed
with the imperial quartered arms of England, which my friend Field bears
in compliment to his descent, in the female line, from Oliver Cromwell.
It must have set his antiquarian curiosity upon watering. To your
questions upon the currency, I refer you to Mr. Robinson's last speech,
where, if you can find a solution, I cannot. I think this, though,--the
best ministry we ever stumbled upon,--gin reduced four shillings in the
gallon, wine two shillings in the quart! This comes home to men's minds
and bosoms. My tirade against visitors was not meant _particularly_ at
you or Anne Knight. I scarce know what I meant, for I do not just now
feel the grievance. I wanted to make an _article_. So in another thing I
talked of somebody's _insipid wife_ without a correspondent object in my
head; and a good lady, a friend's wife, whom I really _love_ (don't
startle, I mean in a licit way), has looked shyly on me ever since. The
blunders of personal application are ludicrous. I send out a character
every now and then on purpose to exercise the ingenuity of my friends.
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