Letter: TO C. W. STODDARD



SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH, FEB. 13TH, 1886.

MY DEAR STODDARD, - I am a dreadful character; but, you see, I have
at last taken pen in hand; how long I may hold it, God knows. This
is already my sixth letter to-day, and I have many more waiting;
and my wrist gives me a jog on the subject of scrivener's cramp,
which is not encouraging.

I gather you were a little down in the jaw when you wrote your
last. I am as usual pretty cheerful, but not very strong. I stay
in the house all winter, which is base; but, as you continue to
see, the pen goes from time to time, though neither fast enough nor
constantly enough to please me.

My wife is at Bath with my father and mother, and the interval of
widowery explains my writing. Another person writing for you when
you have done work is a great enemy to correspondence. To-day I
feel out of health, and shan't work; and hence this so much overdue
reply.

I was re-reading some of your South Sea Idyls the other day: some
of the chapters are very good indeed; some pages as good as they
can be.