Mr. George Borrow to John Murray.  OULTON HALL, LOWESTOFT, January 1842.

MY DEAR SIR,

We are losing time.  I have corrected seven hundred consecutive pages of MS., and the remaining two hundred will be ready in a fortnight.  I do not think there will be a dull page in the whole book, as I have made one or two very important alterations; the account of my imprisonment at Madrid cannot fail, I think, of being particularly interesting....  During the last week I have been chiefly engaged in horse-breaking.  A most magnificent animal has found his way to this neighbourhood—­a half-bred Arabian.  He is at present in the hands of a low horse-dealer, and can be bought for eight pounds, but no one will have him.  It is said that he kills everybody who mounts him.  I have been charming him, and have so far succeeded that he does not fling me more than once in five minutes.  What a contemptible trade is the author’s compared with that of the jockey’s!

Mr. Borrow prided himself on being a horse-sorcerer, an art he learned among the gypsies, with whose secrets he claimed acquaintance.  He whispered some unknown gibberish into their ears, and professed thus to tame them.

He proceeded with “The Bible in Spain.”  In the following month he sent to Mr. Murray the MS. of the first volume.  To the general information as to the contents and interest of the volume, he added these words: 

Mr. George Borrow to John Murray.

February, 1842.

“I spent a day last week with our friend Dawson Turner at Yarmouth.  What capital port he keeps!  He gave me some twenty years old, and of nearly the finest flavour that I ever tasted.  There are few better things than old books, old pictures, and old port, and he seems to have plenty of all three.”

May 10, 1842.

“I am coming up to London tomorrow, and intend to call at Albemarle Street....  I make no doubt that we shall be able to come to terms; I like not the idea of applying to second-rate people.  I have been dreadfully unwell since I last heard from you—­a regular nervous attack; at present I have a bad cough, caught by getting up at night in pursuit of poachers and thieves.  A horrible neighbourhood this—­not a magistrate that dares to do his duty.

“P.S.—­Ford’s book not out yet?”

There seems to have been some difficulty about coming to terms.  Borrow had promised his friends that his book should be out by October 1, and he did not wish them to be disappointed: 

Mr. George Borrow to John Murray.

July 4, 1842.