Pray tell Waite to take a post-chaise; for if our Dentist follows our Barber, there will be ne’er a tooth or hair left which people can depend upon for a half year’s engagement.
I am truly sorry for Blake, but as you observe with great truth and novelty “we are none of us immortal.” It were to be wished however that Coachmen did not help people over the Styx—that used to be watermen’s work and fare.—
You say nothing in favour of my return to England.—Very well—I will stay where I am—and you will never see me more.
[A portion of the paper on which the next passage is written is here cut out by Mrs. Leigh.—Ed.]
P.S.
I sent Lady Byron the other day a letter—enclosing some letters from Germany to me concerning her chiefly, and which the writers wished her to have. Ask her by letter if she has received that letter. I want no answer but a mere acknowledgment to you or to Mr Murray of the arrival of my letter.
I want also a picture of Ada—and my miniature (by Holmes) of you. Address to Venice as usual. Allegra is here with me, in good health & very amiable & pretty, at least thought so. She is English, but speaks nothing but Venetian. “Bon di, papa” &c &c she is very droll, and has a good deal of the Byron—can’t articulate the letter r at all—frowns and pouts quite in our way—blue eyes—light hair growing darker daily—and a dimple in her chin—a scowl on the brow—white skin—sweet voice
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