I am expecting them in after the ordination every moment. This time
it is in the cathedral; twelve candidates I think. Papa came down
to breakfast this morning, and was to go in time for the whole
service. Only think, one of the priests has been in agonies of
toothache all through the examination; but in spite of it Mr.
Browne was delighted with all he did. The poor man had two teeth
taken out, and happily to-day was flourishing.... I do hope you
will like the little paper knife which I am so very glad to send
you. I was quite taken with the little bells of the lilies.... Nora
to-day is quite in her element and full of work, putting up a
number of parcels to send off in different directions.... Ever your
loving sister,
BESSIE GILBERT.
"Tom," of whom she speaks, had recently been appointed Vicar of
Heversham, near Milnthorpe; and Mrs. Elliot had visited him at the
vicarage, and superintended the domestic arrangements of her bachelor
brother.
Bessie received no Christmas box which gave her more pleasure than the
following poem, which appeared in _Punch_ on the 29th of December:
A BOX FOR BLINDMAN'S BUFF.
Sit down to eat and drink on this glad day,
And blest be he that first cries, "Hold, enough!"
Gorge, boys, and girls; and then rise up to play.
You _can_. A game in season's Blindman's Buff.
The ready fillet round the seamless brow
Of youth or maiden while quick fingers bind,
Beneath the golden-green pearl-berried bough,
What fun it is to play at being blind!
But some at Blindman's Buff with eyes unbound
Might join, for whom less sport that game would be
Because it is their life's continual round:
The Blindman's Buff of those that cannot see.
If poor, for alms they can but grope about.
But Science to their need assistance lends;
And "knowledge, at one entrance quite shut out,"
Puts veritably at their fingers' ends.
Thus they who else would starve to labour learn.
Does that consideration strike your mind?
Their living do you wish that they should earn,
Instead of crying "Pity the poor Blind?"
Then know there's not a charitable Dun,
Subscription seeking at your gate who knocks,
That more deserves your bounty than the one
Who for the Blind requests a Christmas Box.
At Oxford Street's two-hundred-and-tenth door
Inquire within about the Blind Man's Friend.
Or send your guinea, if you like, or more;
As many more as you can spare to send.
_Punch, 29th December 1866._
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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