); but am now doing better, pretty much got
adjusted to my new element, new to me since about six years
past,--the longest absence I ever had from it before. My Work
was getting desperate at that time; and I silently said to
myself, "We won't return till _it_ is done, or _you_ are done,
my man!"
This is my eldest living sister's house; one of the most rustic
Farmhouses in the world, but abounding in all that is needful to
me, especially in the truest, _silently_-active affection, the
humble generosity of which is itself medicine and balm. The
place is airy, on dry waving knolls cheerfully (with such _water_
as I never drank elsewhere, except at Malvern) all round me are
the Mountains, Cheviot and Galloway (three to fifteen miles off),
Cumberland and Yorkshire (say forty and fifty, with the Solway
brine and sands intervening). I live in total solitude,
sauntering moodily in thin checkered woods, galloping about, once
daily, by old lanes and roads, oftenest latterly on the wide
expanses of Solway shore (when the tide is _out!_) where I see
bright busy Cottages far off, houses over even in Cumberland, and
the beautifulest amphitheatre of eternal Hills,--but meet no
living creature; and have endless thoughts as loving and as sad
and sombre as I like.
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