"The reason cannot help in such a matter," you reply.
I answer that to say so is to give up a battle before it
is fought. My reason SHALL help me, and when it can
help no longer I shall do without help.

It's late, Bertie, and the fire's out, and I'm
shivering; and you, I'm very sure, are heartily weary of
my gossip and my heresies, so adieu until my next.




II.


HOME, 10th April, 1881.

Well, my dear Bertie, here I am again in your
postbox. It's not a fortnight since I wrote you that
great long letter, and yet you see I have news enough to
make another formidable budget. They say that the art of
letter-writing has been lost; but if quantity may atone
for quality, you must confess that (for your sins) you
have a friend who has retained it.

When I wrote to you last I was on the eve of going
down to join the Cullingworths at Avonmouth, with every
hope that he had found some opening for me. I must tell
you at some length the particulars of that expedition.