Work Text:
10th June 1849
Dearest Francis,
I do so hope you are well. I know fully that my writing to you may be an unwelcome encumbrance, but be that as it may I cannot help myself; that is, I cannot be prevailed upon, though my own mind rails against me, to leave you well alone. Whether you forgive my intrusion, or even decide to peruse this letter and not throw it in the fire upon noticing its flourished penmanship remains entirely in your hands. I’ll not petition you, or ply you with justifications. You are your own man, resolutely, Francis, in this as in all else. I would not seek to curb that which I admire so.
We have been in the Med some months now, and though I have seen hide nor hair of anything I could remotely say has inspired any kind of life in me, the heat is a wonder. My brittle bones just bake under the beating sun, it is altogether too much and too alien, but I do feel the truth of the fact that were I forced to contend with the biting cold again I would pass clean away. I will tell you these things, Francis, until you tell me not to, because I have always been able to say the truth to you. I did eat an orange, cut from a glorious tree in Seville; I ate it right there in its shade and thought of you. I’ll bring you one, I’ll bring you anything should you bid it. But I will not take liberties. Please write; or if you do not, I shall know my answer and bid you good-bye hereafter.
Yours etc.,
James Fitzjames
19th June 1849
Dearest Jem,
My dearest boy, I do believe you got your envelopes wrong when you were organising your post, for I cannot imagine you meant to address a letter ostensibly to me with ‘Dearest Francis’! I am sure its contents would have been greatly appreciated by that fellow, as would those of the presumably similarly misguided missive to myself; however, I am mostly contented with the account you give of yourself and your whereabouts and whatnot.
Forgive me, James, but I do hope you will mend what strife there is between you and Cpt. Crozier, though God knows what could be the cause, for I know full well how closely bonded the two of you have been, and the weight that man’s council bears in your mind. I hope nought overly amiss has passed between you, and that my writing swiftly of your mistake makes for a happy reconciliation of your mutual regard. Write again, James, and pray tell us more of the Med, and those oranges: you know how the girls clamour for news of you, and your wonderful stories, not to mention myself,
Your ever-devoted brother,
William Conningham
UNSENT - Found in Cpt. Crozier’s writing-desk.
3rd March 1849
Dear James Captain Fitzjames,
Hello James, I hope you are well. I cannot imagine the arrival of this letter will bring excess joy to your day after the words we have spoke so I will be matter of fact and not waste more. I love you I am sorry I wish I were better equipped to deal with the demands the world makes of me. I am a weak man your regard for me is entirely unworranted in fact it makes me sick to think of it. Someone of your loveliness should not be saddled by the burdens and groans of an old and unhappy man.
27th June 1849
Dearest Francis,
By now you have perhaps understood my idiotic mistake, or alternatively you cast the missive in the furnace unopened; in any case, I am writing you once more to repeat those sentiments which I expressed in my first letter. Fortune has provided me with an unparalleled opportunity of revision, and I shall take it with both hands, minding most of all truthfulness, and clarity, and the force of what I am to say. Francis. Dearest, most beloved Francis. Do not turn away; bear witness to my words if you have any respect for me at all. I hope, above all else, that you are well, that you are happy and taken care of. I am most afraid that you are none of these things, and I wish you would tell me so that I might come home and help you in what little way I can. I love you, Francis; I have never loved anyone how I love you. If you so wish, these words will never again be spoken by me, but I feel it imperative to tell you, once more: I love you, beyond measure.
Do me the decency of speaking to me once again, even if you dash off one line to inform me our acquaintance must immediately be quit. I once fancied that you would perhaps rather speak to me than anyone else; I do think I was dreaming, the imaginings of a dying but always abysmally weak man, and you like the beautiful unyielding light of the moon guiding me on, smiling down on me, caressing my face with your sweet beams which I know you cast wherever you look. I am a fool, Francis, as I always was. I know you do not dissemble, or flatter, or seek to guild that which is true, and so after yourself nor shall I. Please write, Francis. Please tell me you are well. I will cease begging, but still be
Ever yours,
James Fitzjames
25th July 1849
To Francis,
Now Francis you know how I hate to use foul language but I do feel it’s true you are being a right little bastard. Poor Fitzjames is writing me asking if you’re quite alright and I don’t rightly know what to say to him because we both know the truth is you’re not. Can’t you talk to the man yourself instead of relegating me to the position of rondeivous? I know you care for him very much Francis and I know he does you. Don’t be a fool now because God knows when it comes down to it, that you are not. I hope you’re having every minute of fun up there on your own birdshit island and getting on well enough. Esther and I are having a fine old time thanks for asking and the dog loves my new leg which has given me a newfound appreciation for its finer points. I know what you’re feeling Francis; I feel its weight every moment, but however it’s come about we’ve got another chance to keep on going, and you must do what you can to lighten the load. I’ll give over waxing pat now.
Yours in friendship
Thomas Blanky
15th August 1849
Dear Captain Fitzjames,
Your letter has reached me after some trials. I have been fishing on the isle of Iona a small island off the western coast of Scotland with which contact is more than difficult which suits me mostly grumbling hermit that I am. I am no good at words and least with writing them it is a blasted business but I have had my fill of fishing perhaps for a lifetime and would much like a change of scene. Please note down your next leaves of absence if you would be so kind and if it is agreeable to you I will make my way to wherever it is you shall be. I would much like to see you now. I am well enough and would ask you to tell me how you are also. I hope you are well and keeping warm and not succumming to the morbs least of all on account of me. You are a bright wonderful thing in this world James and I would not have you brought down for all of it.
Yours,
FRM Crozier
30th August 1849
Dearest Francis,
How overjoyed I am to hear from you! It is a relief indeed to get word from you, and to know you are well. In a fit of panic I wrote to our friend Mr Blanky inquiring after you; so I have known for a little while about your Scotch exploits, and I did think it would take some time before I received a response from you, though of course one was never relied upon. My next leave of absence is at Cartagena; I will have a few days from the day after tomorrow, though of course you will not be able to travel such a way in time. After that, I shall have nineteen days together with nothing whatsoever to do at Civitavecchia from 18th October to 5th November. I would like nothing more than to see you and speak with you then. Please do write again to tell when you can expect to arrive, and if it is not too much impertinence some news of what you have been doing, and how you are getting on these days.
In answer to your request, I am well, though not as strong as I once was, and unfortunately liable to a swoon every now and then; not exactly becoming in a Captain of Her Majesty’s Navy - though I will confess (only) to you that I feel less and less one with every day that passes. But on the whole I am well, and do not oft succumb to the morbs as you so amusingly put it. My friends, though dashed across the globe, and my family, though far away also, keep me buoyed; and news from you Francis has been most invaluable for my health. I wish you a pleasant and easy journey, and remain, as ever
Yours,
James Fitzjames
16th September 1849
Dear James,
You are very good James and noble in your treatment of me and for that I thank you.
I have been fishing as I said and though I learnt to fish very young and ought to be as skilled as any so practised I find the fish quite avoid me at least those I wish to catch. Such is life as Tom Blanky would say. I am glad your correspondence with that good man eased your worries, his ever-reliable kindliness is a boon for those blest to know him. I fear you will be tutting at my lack of details so I shall provide you with some more: I have been staying in a small wooden house almost at the shore of a great sparkling grey sea. Further back there is lovely blooming heather and great trees in copses you can’t really call forests because you can walk the isle top to tail in three quarters of an hour. You’d like the air here James and the clouds they are both of them very crisp and fresh and enlivening. I do not fish much in the sea outside my window but tramp with my rods etc. over to the north end rocks and fish for Ling and Pollack and Mackerel.
Across a short stretch of sea there is a piece of land called the isle of Storm. My mind has been much wandering in the quiet and one day not long ago I fancied I caught a glimpse of a huge black bear stood on that isle looking straight at me. Of course it was only a dream and even then it disappeared without much to-do but how my heart beat. All I could think was how it would have served me well had that dreamt-up bear been the end of me. Escaped one only to be felled by another of my own creation. Only a joke James don’t frown. It made me laugh so much the birds all flew off and all the fish swam away I imagine. After that I felt I’d been shaken right out of something and back into the real world. Since then I have embarked on my journey to Italy and you and find all I shall miss of Iona are the clouds and the air and trees not so much the solitude nor the fishing and certainly not the bears.
Between my previous and this I was rowed over to Mull a bigger island close by, crossed that by foot a glorious view to behold and was subsequently rowed again over to the mainland. I then travelled from Oban across to Glasgow from whence I caught my coach down south, and now await the next nautical leg of my journey. As to how I am getting on, well James I find I cannot quite be truthful in writing as you have been. But then you are more open to the world than me and braver. It is too hard to pen the words and see them there instead of your face looking back at me so I shall instead say not very well and hope that suffices. But like you I am much improved for having exchanged letters with you and for the plan of seeing you. I should arrive at Civitavecchia approx. 22nd October but please do not tell me James that you will be hanging about there instead of taking this golden opportunity to see Rome! It is a remarkably beautiful place and one that should suit you more than most. Now I have blathered on long enough your eyes will be smarting. I hope you are well and in good spirits,
Yours etc.,
Francis Crozier
27th September 1849
Dearest Francis,
You well know the usual length of your letters leaves one wanting, and that this slight improvement in their state of affairs is much appreciated by your rapt reader. I am well and high-spirited in the main; I have even taken to plucking at a Portuguese guitar I picked up in Lisbon not long ago. A childish fancy, to be sure, as I am very bad; but it is a beautiful instrument and reminds me of the brighter parts of a sad past. In any case I have not much time to practise or play in earnest as of course you know; the demands of a Captain are numerous and I am ill at ease indulging in those privileges associated with my new rank. However, the open ocean invariably reinvigorates my spirit and puts me in purposeful motion, without which I fear I would not bear up at all well. You are strong indeed, Francis, to go it alone for as long as you did, but I think we differ in that way; I must needs be propped up by others where you stand quite apart. Though I am a little troubled by your reports of yourself; it seems neither of us are doing ‘very well’ as you say. I am gladdened to hear, however, that you are faring better than you were, and shan’t overly flatter myself about it. Your joke was not very funny, though if you did not mean it I suppose I can see the humour in it. If bear sightings were possible in Scotland I have no doubt one would have revealed itself to you for I do believe all manner of creatures are drawn to you like insects to a lamp; they cannot seem to help it. I am very happy you are coming to see me, and you must tell me more about your journey as I haven’t ever travelled to the north - of Britain. Only a joke, Francis, don’t frown.
I cannot help but wonder why you wish to see me now, if it is not simply to disappoint my hopes in the kindest manner. I know, pray do not answer, for I know you do not wish to write it down. I am telling you how I feel because I have already bared all to you, and nothing else. But I will try valiantly not to dwell on it and rather look upon your visit with joy, because seeing you, Francis, can really only be a good thing. As to your wonderings about my visiting Rome: I have thought on it and shall indeed go. You are but one voice in a chorus which insists on a Roman holiday; Dundy has hardly stopped banging on about the fountains and really almost threatened violence should I not go. So then, I will be in Rome when you arrive at port. I will be lodging at Signora Leopoldi’s boarding house, Largo di Torre Argentina, 47, if you would like to meet there, or I am always able to travel to you and Juno . As it is I will be at my ease. I think of you often, though of course that has not changed.
Invariably yours,
James Fitzjames
12th October 1849
Dearest James,
Hello James how are you doing? You must know straight away that I am very impressed with your musical endeavours as well as your strength of will and subsequent lack of crowing for there is no doubt in my mind that you are a very fine player indeed. Your men are furnished with a wealth of restorative diversion I am sure with you around. As for me I have cadged my way onto the HMS Samarang thanks to her Captain an acquaintance made when I was a midshipman. We have led different lives since but here we are I his esteemed guest and companion for the voyage. We have been sailing well with fine weather and minimal delay even through the Bay of Biscay so I shall spend just over a week more on board making my way through the Med up to you. I hope you are enjoying the sights of Rome James and will have plenty to reel off when I see you. I shall come and visit you as I do not wish to curtail your stay or interfere with your plans though by the time this letter reaches you I will already be making my way to Rome I should think. In the same breath I say do not fret James all shall be well hoping somehow its feeling will reach you though the words themselves may not in sufficient time. I remain
Yours
Francis Crozier
18th October 1849
Dearest Francis,
I have been a dolt and now realise you cannot in good time answer my questions, so I shall do what one does when one wishes to be found, and stay still. I hope your journey goes well and you are having a grand old time. It is evening time as I write this; I have spent the day in transit and though I am much wearied by it I am also invigorated by the city. I am seated at a table outside a cafe on the corner of an orange-lit and quietly bustling street; scraps of music and lively conversations float along in the air by me and I have eaten a wonderful meal. I am feeling very contented to be here. Perhaps I will feel differently once I retire to the Signora’s as I have heard some tell-tale scurrying from behind the wainscoting, but ah well. A mouse and I might get along very nicely, you never can tell. To say I have endured worse is low-hanging fruit but there you are regardless. I’m writing this with full knowledge that I cannot send it to you, and have nothing new from you to which I can reply; I simply say I wanted to write to you and tell you of this particularly wonderful moment. I am anxious to see you Francis but right now I am filled with a sense of peace and surety that soon enough I will be in your company. By the time your next letter finds me, I think I shall not be able to give it its due, seeing as you yourself shall be here, and will perforce absorb all of my attention. It is getting late, and I am getting tired, so I will say good-bye.
Yours
James
From the ‘The Epistemology of the Letter: Queer Stories through Time’ Project, 2019. Series #32: Correspondence between one Ekaterina Petrovna and one Giorgia Alighieri; nuns. Edited by Carmichael, Eloise & Truro, Rebecca. Letter no. 39 in series, translated from Latin by Carmichael, Eloise.
1st November 1849
My lovely Ekaterina
I send my love to you as always. How are you faring my dove? Do not fret, I am well, and much happier now a letter from you has come once more.
Today is All Saints Day and as we prayed to their images I must tell you that every one looked just like you. You have a sainted look; it is what made me first fall in love with you, my Saint Catherine [mia Santa Caterina]. Night has fallen, and I write this at my bedside by candlelight (I hear you scold for the sake of my eyes but chide me not my dear) for I simply had to write to you. Today I was persuaded by some power to say every bead for you and you only; every thought has been for you since I awoke. You laugh, I know it. Normally as a matter of course I say almost every bead, think almost every thought for you, sparing some for family, friends, the world at large; but today has been a strange sort of passion, and were it not so wondrous I might think I were going mad. However if I am it is of love for you and for that reason I would be content. I hope the day you read this is bright and not too cold and your favourite blue birds visit their perch outside your window. How I long to be there with you, and see what you see by your side. That reminds me, I’ve a story to tell you, one I hope will make you laugh and warm your heart.
A few days ago I was at the desk tending to my administrative duties, when I spied in the neighbouring garden two figures conspicuous only for their solitariness and their dress: they were naval officers, and British by my estimation. Being quite close by the window, and the window open as is my wont, I could hear their voices low and murmuring. One of them was a bit smaller, and older; the other was a tall crooked line with dark hair quite like mine. They were sat on a bench overlooking the garden, not quite looking at each other or speaking much - you might be wondering what I found so interesting, Ekaterina, and to tell the truth I was quite bored of my tasks - but there was something in the tense way they both were holding themselves, as if one move would break everything, which reminded me of us, when we first fell and were quite terrified, in the garden at Koszalin; or otherwise they were about to get in a fight. Either way I was gripped to know how it would turn out. I could hear some of their words, though you know my English is not brilliant: one said ‘fine, fine’, the other said ‘good, good;’ this carried on for some time. Eventually, after I had quite fallen asleep on my fist, the long crooked one burst out: ‘For God’s sake Francis!’ This must have been the other one’s name. He looked down, I thought sheepishly, but then he seemed to cry, his shoulders shaking. The long one lost all his fierceness straight away, and went to comfort the crying man. While they were embracing I couldn’t catch a word they were murmuring so softly. I could see the love there very well and it made my chest ache for want of you Ekaterina. They wiped the tears from one another’s cheeks and all of a sudden, kissed; and at this point I turned away, for I thought they might not wish for me to see; and it was such a bright sight it almost hurt my eyes to look at. Isn’t it wonderful, two sailors in love and kissing in Signora Leopoldi’s garden, right under my nose! I tell you it made my day and all the days since, to see those like us, and know the beauty and love shared between us. They walked away hand in hand and I felt very happy indeed. How I love you my darling and wish you all the good things this world holds and the next. I hope it shall not be too long until we might visit with one another again; I know you long for Italy as I long for dear Poland. I love you, I love you,
Giorgia Alighieri
5th November 1849
My beloved James
I hope you are well my dear. I hope you are more than well. I greatly wish to hear of you though we parted not ten minutes ago. I am at that self-same table at the cafe you brought me to and I am fancying that I can smell you on the wind though it is probably the impression of you on my clothes or perhaps just in my brain - God knows it is deep enough. I have been silly over you for a long time James though this is far surpassing anything heretofore. You should know how lovely you are and how little I deserve your attentions though I hear you saying hush. So I will only say how I do love you and wish you well.
Now I shall take it upon myself to explain what was not spoken about in depth between us because there were much more important matters to attend to when I could see you and hold you and kiss you. But I will endeavour now in writing to explain my actions and my state and my treatment of you earlier this year. I feel I can face it now though it will be difficult to express myself clearly as my mind at that time was awfully disordered. My feelings then do not match those of the present in any sense please know that. When we arrived to England in December I cannot tell you how I was or even who I was. Though we were together at this time you do not know all and here am I to try and remedy that. I felt firstly that your illness which grieved me beyond sense prevented me from confessing to you things which had you been stronger I might have told you. Secondly the sudden reappearance of the spectre of British society and all the rules and regulations that come with it seemed to drive once again some kind of divide between us even if it was to start with as thin as a gossamer sheet. As our return encroached and you became more hale every day my thoughts began to blacken and decay. I was terrified of losing you but I was moreso terrified that you would throw your days away on me, who as I felt then could only possibly extinguish your light. I had never been at home in society and began to dread my return to it as well as the loneliness and squalid purposelessness I oft felt on shore. This foreboding was only multiplied by the shame and horror and guilt I felt at my continued life where many more deserving were cut short and under my care. I could not bear it. I felt myself collapsing under this inevitable crush and from my outlook warped as it was the only way to make you safe from its effects was to push you from its path. For this and for my withholding it from you I am sorry James. At the time I saw no other way and I did not perceive any distance you could garner from me to be a cruelty in fact quite the opposite. I did not want you to be stained. You had just wrested your beautiful shining life from death’s maw, how could I be so selfish as to seek to limit and degrade it in accordance with mine? I know you do not see it this way and as time has passed nor do I, though I believe my acquaintance with this particular dread will be lifelong and ambling. I pushed you away and I hurt you I know that, though I did not understand how you would be effected by it. It was wrong of me James. I am sorry for it and I hope you can forgive me. It is the revelation of my life to love you. Not to mention that you love me in return. It’s not something I can easily understand. Please tell me how you are, I hope that you are well and safe my dear dear James. I am always
Yours
Francis Crozier
Cutting preserved in memento book
5th November 1849
Darling Francis,
I am writing this in my cabin aboard the Juno and the winds are high so excuse my handwriting. But I simply must tell you how incandescent I feel after seeing you and everything we spoke to one another and all that passed between us. Nought could possibly surpass these last weeks of my life. After all that happened between us I did not allow myself to entertain the notion that you might care for me as I did you. To know it and feel it is a gift too great for me to bear. Oh how wonderful it was to see your beautiful beaming face Francis my darling, to hear your voice so gorgeous and low like a melody. I could just eat you, and I hope you don’t think less of me for saying it. Already I long for you so, being parted will certainly be intolerable. I entreat you most ardently to write and tell me every thought which passes through your head and every sight you see to give me enough on which to subsist until we are united once more. Don’t grumble. My beloved Francis, I simply must have a miniature of you made this will not do.
Second cutting preserved in memento book, adjacent page
11th November 1849
Goodness James how you do get me going. I can't think of anything at all because of you and your words they follow me around in a great cloud and I don't want to look at anything else it all pales in comparison forgive the pun. I wish you were here or I was there or we were both any blasted where so I could see you and touch you and kiss you. Look at me great red lump writing sweet nothings to you but there is nothing else in the world I would rather do than love you how I am able and if it does not displease you then I will write more. Oh James.
From The Collected Letters of Dorcas McBride. Edited by Irwin, Edwina (Oxford University Press, 1997). pp. 206-208.
9th June 1853
Dear Petie,
Since I last wrote we have arrived in glorious Corfu and isn’t it just. You were right my dear, the sun here shines a little bit better than anywhere else. I’m sure I shall come back such a prune and don’t you dare say I am one already, I don’t look a day over sixty-three thank you very much.
Our journey was perfectly civil and respectable though Angie was a little bit seasick poor thing. As I have expressed to you I was hoping a bit of rough and tumble with me would curb her proclivity for lily-wilting and polish her right up into a strong beautiful diamond. Well my plan might be taking effect for she never uttered a moan nor warble about her illness and was a very good sport about the whole thing, and even had a sort of hungry gleam in her eyes looking over at the shape of the island as we came upon it. Much more like it.
So we have settled in our boarding-house a very satisfactory establishment overlooking an almost ridiculously lapiz ocean, Petie, really, and have taken to exploring and wandering, occasionally soliciting a donkey and cart etc. for longer odysseys. Well yesterday you will never never guess whom we stumbled across in our rambling. You simply will never guess. Miss Angelina and I had engaged a lovely young man and his lovely cart to take us wherever he might be going, and when he got there we thanked him aplenty and popped off the cart for a nice stroll around. There was a wonderful wood right near a beautiful beach and altogether it was rather heavenly, quite quiet but for those gorgeous buzzings of life that accompany one wherever one goes in Greece like a personal little orchestra. All of a sudden a house reared up, a bit bedraggled but really quite glorious in its bedragglement. At this time we the both of us were parched from our excursions and thought to beg a nice drink of water from whomever the houseowner may be.
As we made our way up to the front door we noticed somewhat of a menagerie, a couple of chickens, a goat, a donkey, and most remarkable a peacock strutting along past us, nonchalant as you please. The door was ajar, so it seemed as if somebody was in, but when we knocked and rang the bell (a little painted thing with a pulley and a rope, quaint) there was no answer. We called out, and I using my stick made a nice racket, and finally the door was pulled open, and there blinking in the light was a befuddled and undressed Francis Crozier. Yes my dear, Captain Francis Crozier himself! I could hardly believe my own eyes. I hadn’t seen him for donkey’s years and I said as much. Yes, he laughed, well hello Miss McBride, he said, and how are you? And he let us in to the kitchen and gave us refreshment and was very gentlemanly as he always was wont to be, don’t you remember Petie, though he hardly looked the gentleman in what seemed his underthings. He did not seem perturbed, however, and made good conversation with us, and paid such attention to the things Angelina said she positively bloomed which I observed with an admiring eye.
After a while he began to look out of the window and mutter ‘I wonder where James has got to…’ ‘James?’ said I, ‘who, pray tell, is James?’ ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I’m sure you’ll remember him,’ with a peculiar glint in his eye, and with that he took us off towards the ocean just down from the house. Angie inquired, in a manner of which I was most proud, how long had Crozier been living there; he responded, ‘I’d say it’s been just over a year since we moved into this house.’ So now you get the scope of things Petie, though perhaps you’ll put together whom is his companion before I.
Just before one reaches the beach contiguous with this property there is a stone wall demarcating its bounds, and as we approached I noticed upon said wall, lying resplendent in the sun, was a figure. ‘James,’ called Crozier, ‘we’ve guests to entertain!’ The figure stirred, shielding his eyes in the sun, an open book laid on his once again I must say scantily clad chest; and upon realising our existence, swung his feet to the floor and all but sprang up to greet us most effusively. Have you divined his identity yet my dear? Alright, I’ll tease you no longer: it was no other than Captain James Fitzjames! Looking much older I’ll admit but still very much dashing enough for Angie and I, and, one might hazard a guess, Captain Crozier. Fitzjames was very lovely touring us around the property, and introduced us to their various animal companions, including a one-eyed parakeet we had missed, on account of his shy and retiring nature so said Fitzjames.
They insisted we stay for tea, and tea turned into supper for we were talking so, by which time the sun was setting and Fitzjames positively bullied us into staying the night, very lovely rooms mind you, and I am quite loving the scandal of it as I’m sure you expected. Even Angie does not seem particularly nervous that we did not send a note to the boarding-house explaining our absence; I’ve not evidence of one bitten nail. Now I write to you from my window on the second story of the residence of Captains Crozier and Fitzjames, the sea-breeze riffling my paper only a little. How wonderful! Today we are to take lunch on a table in the surf, a pleasure which absolutely must be taken when the waters are calm as they are today according to our hosts. I must admit Petie I am very charmed by them; they are great fun and have their heads screwed on tight, a combination you know is deadly for me. Angie is quite invigorated, I think, by their freeness, and so am I; it really is quite wonderful to have stumbled across them and found them living such a life! I shall draw this missive to its inevitable conclusion, as I hear Angie calling me and really she is not shy of using her voice-box when she wants something now. I am quite proud. I send my love, my dear, and Crozier and Fitzjames send their best wishes - a remarkable sentence - and I remain, as ever
Yours truly
Dorcas McBride