PUBLISHING DELAYS. 155 bravest nautilus floating to his own convenient shell? By the by, I hope your shell is rapidly becoming more and more convenient and comely: one really needs some compensation for universal upset. "What a long bitter winter it has been at Hastings the cold was searching; what must it have been at Shottermill? But how pleasant this spring weather is. I am better too than I was, though my looks don't earn me many compliments. Better indeed, yet not so well but that kind William talks of taking me in his holiday to enjoy my first glimpse of Italy. Our plans are unsettled: but if we go, I hope our Mother will accompany us and obtain her first glimpse also; and perhaps we may start in the course of next month, not to return I suppose for about five weeks. For one reason however, I could almost like the whole lovely scheme to miscarry if William went alone he would be able to travel further south than he has ever yet been, or than could be managed with us; and he had already indeed, I fear, been actually looking forwards to possible Naples; as yet he has not gone beyond Rome. "Thank you for taking an interest in my prospective Volume II. I am receiving proofs of it and hope it may see the light before so very long: but doubtless you are aware of the nature of publishing delays, and know that weeks and months may slip away before the counted-on literary chick hatches. William's Dante, having actually left the nest, seems accounted a vigorous bird enough by the reviewers: I hesitate to say how much I like and admire it, just because I am his sister; otherwise I should have somewhat to say on the point. "To-day we went to see Mr. Madox Brown's Exhibition; and interesting and very full of matter it is: I had not been before. Some of the works were familiar, some of course new to me: I particularly admired two of the three compositions designed to illustrate Dalziel's Bible; indeed one of these, Elijah restoring the resuscitated child to his mother, is I think the work which to please myself I should select from the entire room full.—No, I don't know anything of Gabriel projecting a similar exhibition. "Funny little Grace: I daresay various of your correspondents don't omit 'love' to her. Please present mine with all due gravity, and to Herbert, and to Beatrice. Beatrice comes last, because I have to add my request that she will give me pleasure by accepting a little book I send her with this: [Poems by Gerda Fay-Mrs. Gemmer] accept it, that is, unless (as I fear she may) she scouts it as too childish; in that case I hope Grace will not consider she has outgrown such lore, but will graciously accept it as befits one of her name. William desires very kind regards.Always, very truly yours, CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI." The letter we have read, dated from 166, Albanystreet, is soon followed by a second from the same writer: "My dear Mrs. Gilchrist Thank you for such a delightfully kind letter received this morning. Please give my love to your three young people. I am LETTER FROM CHRISTINA ROSSETTI. 157 truly pleased if they remember me, but suspect Grace's reminiscence of being somewhat shadowy. You do not tell me how your house alterations have prospered: well, I hope, they looked so promising in theory. Such "Our small continental tour proved enjoyable beyond words; a pleasure in one's life never to be forgotten. My mother throve abroad, and not one drawback worth dwelling upon occurred to mar our contentment. unimaginable beauties and grandeur of nature as we beheld no pen could put on paper; so I obviously need not exert myself to tell you what Lucerne was like, or what the lovely majesty of Mount St. Gothard, or what the Lake of Como, with its nightingale accompaniment, or what as much of Italy as we saw to our half-Italian hearts. Its people is a noble people, and its very cattle are of high-born aspect; I am glad of I am glad of my Italian blood. I don't say a word about art treasures: the truth being that I far prefer nature treasures, but we saw glorious specimens of both classes. Our longest stay was at Milan; where we witnessed a rather interesting ceremony, the unveiling by Prince Omberto of a statue of Cavour. At Milan, too, we went over a most interesting institution, the Ospedale Maggiore; the children's ward was quite a pretty sight with its population of poor little patients. Of course I could run on indefinitely with disjointed scraps and facts, but this sample may suffice. "Gabriel dined with us to-day; and that is worth saying, because we have so few acquaintances in common. Do you recollect how I battened on your Plato last time I was at Brookbank? I have since become pos sessed of an own private Plato, my mother having given him me for my last birthday. On the same occasion I was enriched with Jean Ingelow's Poems, with which my first thorough acquaintance was made at your house. "May I offer you my mother's and sister's kind regards, though they have not yet the pleasure of knowing you? Anyone who is kind to me has a claim on them. Till our next meeting, whenever that may be, and not the less after it, pray believe me Affectionately yours, CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI." On the ninth of July of the same year Anne Gilchrist takes up the pen again, to William Haines:— "Did I tell you that I had a very narrow [escape] on the top of Hind Head a few weeks ago? Mrs. Simmons was driving another lady and myself when somehow or other the reins got under the horse's tail, and he set off at a furious pace, began to kick, and of course was perfectly unmanageable, because the more you pulled the reins the worse he was; we were just coming to a tremendous pitch down hill when happily he plunged into the ditch and threw us all out into the hedge. I felt the chaise draw along over my head and knock my hat off. Yet we all jumped up unhurt. "It seems to me the thing to do if your horse runs away is to make for the ditch, for it is certainly more advantageous to be thrown out into the hedge, even if it be a holly hedge, than on to the hard high road. There is generally a comic element in these affairs—there certainly was in ours-for the friend behind was a stout old lady who had charge of the provisions (we were to have picniced at Churt.) So she was landed in the |
