George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor
George Hillard, Ed.

[358] in beautiful open grounds, the ladies often sitting on the grass, and looking as gay as the flower-beds around them. A good many acquaintances were there,—the Milmans, who asked most kindly for you and Lizzie, the Godleys, etc., etc., besides lots of new acquaintances, the best of whom were Dean Trench and the Adderleys. With these last we drove into town, and I got out as nearly as I could to Harley Street, took a cab, and hurried to the Lyells'. Dear Lady Lyell was dressing to go out, but came down at once, and was as kind and good as ever. So was Sir Charles. But I did not stop long. It was dinner-time for both. . . .

We had nobody at dinner except Professor Brodie, from Oxford, son of Sir Benjamin Brodie, and a good pleasant talker. But after ten I was very sleepy, and Ellen having disappeared, I went to bed. . . . . This morning, however, I find I made a mistake in hurrying off so. Ellen had only gone up stairs to dress in Spanish costume for a fancy ball, and intended to show herself to me before she went. It was a pity I missed it. . . . . I dine to-day with the Lyells,—who still have the Pertz family with them,—and in the evening go to the Horners'. . . . .

I am just setting out for Bates's and the British Museum, so as to begin work first of all. How much there will be of it, or what else I shall do, I cannot yet foresee. But you will know just as fast as I can learn it myself. . . . . I am sorry to write in so bad a hand this morning, but I should not have had time to say half I have done, if I had written carefully and plain. And even now I have not said what I most want to say, and that is, to send my best love and many kisses to darling Lizzie, of whom it seems to me I think more and more, now I think of you both more together. Love to Dexter, of course.

London, July 4, 1857.

When I am alone there seems no way of preventing myself from being assailed by anxious thoughts about you and our home, except by writing to you of all I see and do here; a proceeding which necessarily turns my mind upon what is nearest to me. And so I wrote to you all my leisure yesterday, and so I suppose I shall write to you all my leisure to-day. I left off my hurried despatch just as I was going out . . . . I drove first to Mr. Bates's. ‘He is not in town,’ was the answer of the bowing porter. I was a little disappointed not to begin my business at once; but it is of no great consequence. . . . .

Failing in this I made half a dozen visits. First I went to Lord Fitzwilliam's. He was at home, so were Lady Charlotte and George.