vii.j M,IRKIE1> /.//' 179 



from the existence of our respective wives and 

 tluve small ct *, I IM^HII to fancy the corner of 



the library which you IKK! chosen to make your own, for 

 1 take it for granted that you choose the library, and 

 the quiet hours from nine till eleven, and 1 heard in 

 memory the quiet tick of that small chimney clock and 

 the dull glare of that most ponderous and ugly ehan- 

 But you have returned to the realities of life. 

 not arouse in Mrs. Batten the latent jealousy 

 which that "bachelor's pot of mixed tea with dry toast" 

 the cosy arm-chair which so often woos the literary 

 old gen! ;einan on the north side of the fire-place to 

 the charms of the pamphlet and magazine table, 

 apt. too justly, to excite. After all, I will say this, 

 that the still life of a club is more winning than its 

 intellectual life. I am sure I have not made three ac- 

 quaintances the more by being a member of the Athe- 

 na; and except very intimate friends such as you 

 and I, who are always glad to meet, a club promotes 

 rather indifference than union. So great is the fear of 

 In ing bored or the possibility of saddling yourself for 

 with a pestilence in your own drawing-room, i.e. the 

 club, thai i: Ivances are always very guarded. My 



associations of pleasure in the Athenaeum, I repeat, are 

 !i more with things than men- nice books, and cosy 

 chairs, and warm cups of ten, than with sages. \\ils, and 

 :s. But you, afl a London man, may have a different 

 expei hough I do not expect it/ 



When tin- , 1845-46 was over, two months 



in visiting, with Mrs. Forbes, sundry p! 



, and in a tour through the lakes of 

 ( 'umbel-land. 



!y found Forbes once more at ('haniomiix, and 



rimenis on the Mcr d<- (Ilaer. All An-just 



. and September brought him 



-rbe.s ai had remained 



ilurii. 



The very full dence which FoH.es ha* left 



N 2 



