1843-1845] Extravagance at Down 97 



but as he was to have gone on Saturday and then on Monday 

 and willingly stayed, we have the real pleasure to think, 

 wonderful as it is, that Down is not now duller to him than 

 Park Street. 



I have just balanced my half year's accounts and feel 

 exactly as if somebody had given me one or two hundred 

 per annum; this last half-year our expenses with some 

 extras have only been 456, that is excluding the new 

 garden wall; so that allowing Christmas half year to be 

 100 more we are living on about 1000 per annum; more- 

 over this last year, subtracting extraordinary receipts, has 

 been 1400, so that we are as rich as Jews. 



We are now undertaking some great earth- works ; making 

 a new walk in the kitchen-garden ; and removing the mound 

 under the yews, on which the evergreens we found did badly, 

 and which, as Erasmus has always insisted, was a great 

 blemish in hiding part of the field and the old Scotch firs. 

 We are making a mound, which will be execrated by all the 

 family, viz., in front of the door out of the house. It will 

 make the place much snugger, though a great blemish till 

 the evergreens grow on it. Erasmus has been of the utmost 

 service in scheming and in actually working ; making creases 

 in the turf, striking circles, driving stakes and such jobs; he 

 has tired me out several times. 



Thursday morning. I had not time to finish my foolish 

 letter yesterday, so I will to-day. Our grandest scheme is 

 the making our schoolroom and one (or as I think it will 

 turn out) two small bedrooms. The servants complained 

 to me what a nuisance it was to them to have the passage 

 for everything only through the kitchen; again Parslow's 

 pantry is too small to be tidy. It seemed so selfish making 

 the house so luxurious for ourselves and not comfortable 

 for our servants, that I was determined if possible to effect 

 their wishes. So I hope the Shrewsbury conclave will not 

 condemn me for extreme extravagance, though now that 

 we are reading aloud Sir Walter Scott's life, I sometimes 

 think that we are following his road to ruin at a snail-like 

 pace. . . . 



