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"If those not immediately concerned," writes a member of the New York council, "only stand gazing on while the wolff is murthering other parts of the flock, it will come to every one's turn at last." The warning was well founded, but it was not heeded.
All her conversation during the long days would be around her earthly wrongs. The other ghosts, in all probability, would have heard about that husband of hers, what he said, and what he did, till they were sick of the subject. A newcomer would be seized upon with avidity. A lady of repute writes to a magazine that she once occupied for a season a wainscotted room in an old manor house.
I bet everybody likes him wherever he is over here. It's funny how I got to thinking about you last night. I'll there goes the bugle, so I can't write any more. Anyway, you won't get it unless I'm killed. Maybe you won't like my writing, but every fellow writes to a girl the last thing. It seems kind of lonely if you can't write to a girl. "Your friend,
If so, all the more credit to him as an artificer. And another feather in his cap is that, although you can hardly ever mistake the writer, his letters take a slight but sufficient colour of difference according to the personality of the recipient. He does not write to Montagu exactly as he writes to Mann; to Gray as to Mason; to Lady Upper-Ossory as to earlier she-correspondents.
Again he writes: "Think of this beast working away, not deeming my feelings, or those of her family, worthy of notice. It shall not be done if I can stop the scamp's knavery along with his breath." Whether Browning actually resorted to this extreme course is unknown; nothing is known except that he wrote a letter to the ambitious biographer which reduced him to silence, probably from stupefaction.
Oliver Heaviside, in The Electrician of 10th February last, writes: "There should be no jolting or scraping." "Contacts, though light, should not be loose."
The Simpsons kept open house, and it was the custom for a group of cronies to drop in at all hours of day and night. Louis was among those who came oftenest, and Sir Walter's sister writes: "He would frequently drop in to dinner with us, and of an evening he had the run of the smoking room.
"When you last wrote," repeated John, in a cogitative tone. "Yes; I write about once a fortnight, of course, when Barbara writes to Johnnie." "Did Miss Crampton superintend the letters?" was John's next inquiry. "Oh no, father, we always wrote them up here." "I wonder whether Janie would have allowed this," thought John. "I suppose as they are so young it cannot signify."
A month later, two hundred and fifty miles south, it was to be abandoned in the mountains near West Walker River, on account of the deep snow which made it impossible for the weary horses to drag it further. On the 28th of January Frémont thus writes: To-night we did not succeed in getting the howitzer into camp.
Before the female enslaver makes her appearance, every lad has a friend of friends, a crony of cronies, to whom he writes immense letters in vacation, whom he cherishes in his hearts of hearts; whose sister he proposes to marry in after life; whose purse he shares; for whom he will take a thrashing if need be; who is his hero.
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