pony-chaise, I do not attempt to leave my room.  I am still lifted into bed, and can neither turn nor move in any way when there, am wheeled from the stairs to the pony-carriage, cannot walk three steps, can hardly stand a moment, and in rising from my chair am sometimes ten minutes, often longer.  So you see that I am very, very feeble and infirm.  Still I feel sound at heart and clear in head, am quite as cheerful as ever, and, except that I get very much sooner exhausted, enjoy society as much as ever, so you must come if only to make me well.  I do verily believe your coming would do me more good than anything.

I was much interested by your account of the poor English stage coachman.  Ah, these are bad days for stage coachmen on both sides the Atlantic!  Do you remember his name? and do you know whether he drove between London and Reading, or between Reading and Basingstoke?—­a most useless branch railroad between the two latter places, constructed by the Great Western simply out of spite to the Southwestern, which I am happy to state has never yet paid its daily expenses, to say nothing of the cost of construction, and has taken everything off our road, which before abounded in coaches, carriers, and conveyances of all sorts.  The vile railway does us no earthly good, we being above four miles from the nearest station, and you may imagine how much inconvenience the absence of stated communication with a market town causes to our small family, especially now that I can neither spare Sam nor the pony to go twelve miles.  You must come to England and come often to see me, just to prove that there is any good whatever in railways,—­a fact I am often inclined to doubt.

I shall send this letter to be forwarded to Mr. Bennett, and desire him to write to you himself.  He is, as you say, an “excellent youth,” although it is very generous in me to say so, for I do believe that you came to see me since he has been.  Dear Mr. Bennoch, with all his multifarious business, has been again and again.  God bless him! ...To return to Mr Bennett.  He has been engaged in a grand battle with the trustees of an old charity school, principally the vicar.  His two brothers helped in the fight.  They won a notable victory.  They were quite right in the matter in dispute and the “excellent youth” came out well in various letters.  His opponent, the vicar, was Senior Wrangler at our Cambridge, the very highest University honor in England, and tutor to the present Lord Grey.

By the way, Mr. ——­ wrote to me the other day to ask that I would let him be here when Mr. Hawthorne comes to see me.  I only answered this request by asking whether he did not intend to come to see me before that time, for certainly he might come to visit an old friend, especially a sick one, for her own sake, and not merely to meet a notability, and I am by no means sure that Mr. Hawthorne might not prefer to come alone or with dear Mr. Bennoch;