People have been very kind to us — we have one or two engagements for every day this week, and had three dinners for one day, two of which we were, of course, forced to decline. We had a pleasant dinner at Dickens's, on Saturday--a very handsome entertainment, consisting of all manner of good things. Dickens led me in to dinner — waxed quite genial over his wine, and was more natural than I ever saw him-after dinner we had coffee, conversation and music, to which I lent my little wee voice! We did not get home until half-past 11.... Annie has doubtless told you how we went to see Carlyle, and Mrs. was out, and I poured tea for him, and he handed me the preserves with: “I do not know what thae little things are, perhaps you can eat them — I never touch them myself.” This naturally made me laugh — we had a strange but pleasant evening with him — he is about forty, looks young for that, drinks powerful tea, and then goes it strong upon all subjects, but without extravagancehe has a fine head, an earnest face, a glowing eye.... Furthermore, we have walked into the affections of the
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Beside dinners and evening parties, there were breakfasts, with Richard Monckton Milnes (afterward Lord Houghton), with Samuel Rogers,--who gave them plovers' eggs,--and with jovial Sir Robert Harry Inglis, who cut the loaf at either end, giving the guests “a slice or a hunch” at their desire.
This meal, our mother notes, was not “a luncheon in disguise,” but a genuine breakfast, at ten or even half-past 9 o'clock.
She writes to her sister Louisa:--
Houghton Mifflin Company, Boston and New York. 1916.
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