Edward and little Bessy, and half a score more would, I dare say, but I've no time to ask 'em. Pray be so good as to call at my lodgings and you'll find a letter with the Postmark-- Milnthrop--I believe on my Toilet. It is from Derwent --pray forward it--and ask when I must be at Oxford, for I've forgotten. Remember me to all my friends, and ask Miss Green at my lodgings how my Kitten is
And believe me, Dear Geordie
Your truly affectionate Coz.
N.B. Aunt Edward tells me to tell you that she has postpon'd her ball till you can be there. Your Daddy and Mammy are going to cram their Carcases with us next Wednesday--we shall drink your health in small beer. We gluttonised on Thursday at Warden House.
[ January, 1820.]
Worn and hacknied as I am in the apologetic strain, long as I have been accustom'd to write about not writing, I am positively at a loss how to begin to address you, after so unconscionable an interval, and tho' I could easily explain my silence, I must confess myself utterly unable to excuse it. The fact is, however, that your last letter came to me but one day before my setting off for Ottery. I was in company at the time, busy all day after, knew that the perusal of your pothooks and hangers (for in very truth, my dear Brother, your hand out-villains villainy) would be no ordinary job, so put it aside till I could sit down and enjoy it, and alas, in the confusion of packing, yours took flight, and has never since return'd. I am as sorry as ashamed for this, tho' I doubt not some four years hence to find it in some corner or other. Shame for this circumstance, with long desuetude (a word after your own heart) have kept me thus long intending to write to you. Forgive me. 'Tis all I have to say for myself. Now I have an infinite deal to tell thee, and much more to observe thereon, not falling short in the interrogative department-- much of Oxford, much of Ottery, much of love, and more of folly. As imprimis, that I returned from Woolmer's with St.