I hear that your
pen is busy, and that from your tower you are looking upon old England
and estimating her influences and the character of her people. Recent
experiences must modify your judgment in many ways. A romance laid in
England, painted as you only can paint, must be a great success. I
struggle on, and only wish I were worthy the respect my friends so
foolishly exhibit.
With affectionate regards to all, ever yours truly, F. BENNOCH.
On November 17, 1854, my mother writes:--"Last evening a great
package came from Mr. Milnes [Lord Houghton], and it proved to be all
his own works, and a splendid edition of Keats with a memoir by Mr.
Milnes. This elegant gift was only a return of favors, as Mr.
Hawthorne had just sent him some American books. He expended three
notes upon my husband's going to meet him at Crewe Hall, two of
entreaty and one of regret; but he declares he will have him at
Yorkshire. Mrs. Milnes is Lord Crewe's sister. The last note says:
'The books arrived safely, and alas! alone. When I get to Yorkshire,
to my own home, I shall try again for you, as I may find you in a more
ductile mood. For, seriously, it would be a great injustice--not to
yourself, but to us--if you went home without seeing something of our
domestic country life: it is really the most special thing about our
social system, and something which no other country has or ever will
have.'"
Another note from Lord Houghton is extant, saying:--
DEAR MR.
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