last; one I cannot help relating. A constable in Salisbury
Cathedral was telling me that eight people dined at the top
of the spire of the cathedral, upon which I remarked that
they must be very sharp set. But in general I cultivate the
reasoning part of my mind more than the imaginative. Do you
know Kate * * *. I am so stuffed out with eating turkey for
dinner, and another turkey for supper yesterday (turkey in
Europe and turkey in Asia), that I can't jog on. It is New
Year here. That is, it was New Year half a year back, when I
was writing this. Nothing puzzles me more than time and
space, and yet nothing puzzles me less, for I never think
about them. The Persian ambassador is the principal thing
talked of now. I sent some people to see him worship the sun
on Primrose Hill at half past six in the morning 28th
November; but he did not come, which makes me think the old
fire-worshippers are a sect almost extinct in Persia. Have
you trampled on the Cross yet? The Persian ambassador's name
is Shaw Ali Mirza. The common people call him Shaw Nonsense.
While I think of it, I have put three letters besides my own
three into the India post for you, from your brother,
sister, and some gentleman whose name I forget. Will they,
have they, did they, come safe? The distance you are at cuts
up tenses by the root.

DEAR HOOD,--If I have anything in my head I will
send it to Mr. Watts. Strictly speaking he should have had
my Album verses, but a very intimate friend importuned me
for the trifles, and I believe I forgot Mr. Watts, or lost
sight at the time of his similar Souvenir. Jamieson conveyed
the farce from me to Mrs. C. Kemble, _he_ will not be in