Well, hard upon six weeks ago, I managed to break the top of my right shoulder-blade. It was done by a bit of carelessness, not to say foolhardiness, by continuing to do at seventy-two what I have done in former years, relying too much on my quickness and sureness of foot in stepping off a horse-car (_anglice_, tram) when in motion. In the darkness I supposed it had slowed up, which in fact it had not, and so a bad fall. Well, the bone is thought to be well mended, and I use the arm for certain purposes almost as well as ever, but cannot yet get my clothes on and off without assistance. My wife, as you will believe, has been a capital nurse, and she credits me with a most unexpected amount of patience.... But if you don’t come soon I shall despair of you. And Gladstone, I know, will be tempting you; but I doubt if you will budge, except he would place you in more sunny quarters than the Deanery,--a place which corporeally I know is not at all good for you, nor for Mrs. Church. I read that you have preached a sermon in commemoration of Dr. Pusey, at Oxford, which I hope you will print, and I count on receiving a copy. I prize very much a copy of a discourse by Dr. Pusey, given me through Acland when we were there a year and a quarter ago, addressed to me in a very flattering way. By the telegraph we learn you are having a very severe snowstorm, attended with suffering. We are now having our sixth of this winter; but we do not mind it. I rejoice with you at Gladstone’s success. He and Dufferin have earned laurels. Let us hope he will hold out several years yet, and continue at the helm. But how cordially he is hated! Here we get on, prosper, indeed, quite without wisdom, or with very little of it. One of these days we shall need it. There are things I should like to write about. But my arm is not up to continued use. Mrs. Gray will send messages _propria manu_. So, with my kindest regards to Mrs. Church and all your happy family, I am affectionately, Yours, ASA GRAY. TO SIR EDWARD FRY. BEVERLY FARMS, December 1, 1882. We were very sorry to read in the telegraphic news a few days ago of the destruction of Clevedon Court by fire, a most sad and unexpected thing, but we hope not so bad as the brief announcement portends. It brought back to our memory the delightful afternoon which Mrs. Gray and I passed there a year and some months ago. A modern house can be replaced, but not an old hall like this. It makes us sad to think of it. Perhaps you can tell us that the loss was exaggerated in the telegraphic account.