My youngest Brother (whom on the whole I
like best, a rustic man, the express image of my Father in his
ways of living and thinking) is within ten miles of me; Brother
John "the Doctor" has come down to Dumfries to a sister (twelve
miles off), and runs over to me by rail now and then in few
minutes. I have Books; but can hardly be troubled with them.
Pitiful temporary babble and balderdash, in comparison to what
the Silences can say to one. Enough of all that: you perceive
me sufficiently at this point of my Pilgrimage, as withdrawn to
_Hades_ for the time being; intending a month's walk there, till
the muddy semi-solutions settle into sediment according to what
laws they have, and there be perhaps a partial restoration of
clearness. I have to go deeper into Scotland by and by, perhaps
to try _sailing,_ which generally agrees with me; but till the
end of September I hope there will be no London farther. My poor
Wife, who is again poorly since I left (and has had frightful
sufferings, last year especially) will probably join me in this
region before I leave it.
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