"As to what it is about, I think it's a little scene in Heaven (I am
always pretending to know so much about that place!), a sort of patrol
going to look to the battlements, some such thought as in Marlowe's
lovely line: 'Now walk the angels on the walls of Heaven.' But I wanted
it to be so different, and my old eyes cannot help me to finish it as I
want--so forgive it and accept it with all its accompanying crowd of
good wishes to you. They were always in my mind as I did it.
"And come back soon from that America and stay here, and never go away
again. Indeed I do wish you boundless happiness, and for our sake, such
a length of life that you might shudder if I were to say how long.
"Ever your poor artist,
"E.B.-J.
"If it is so faint that you can scarcely see it, let that stand for
modest humility and shyness--as I had only dared to whisper."
Another time, when I had sent him a trifle for some charity, he wrote:
"Dear Lady,--
"This morning came the delightful crinkly paper that always means you!
If anybody else ever used it, I think I should assault them! I certainly
wouldn't read their letter or answer it.
"And I know the check will be very useful. If I thought much about those
wretched homes, or saw them often, I should do no more work, I know.
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