_Foxholes, March 6th._--Alas, alas! time flies away, and pleasant things come to an end, and I shall not have many days' more enjoyment of your charming house and library and outlook. But my time has not been wasted. I have recovered strength, a good deal more than I expected, and am probably now--at all events hope, by our return next Monday or Tuesday, to be--able to re-enter the ordinary routine of life. Of course, we have had, like other people, a great deal of blustering wind--for the most part from north-west--very cold and very noisy in your chimneys. But there has also been a great deal of sunshine with the gales, and the exposure of your house to south-east has, on most days, given us a sheltered walk. Moreover, your soil is so porous and absorbent, that one gets dry walking immediately after rain. I have only been kept indoors two days since our arrival. A few letters from Reeve himself show the continued activity of his mind, and at the same time his consciousness of, his readiness for, the end which was drawing nigh. _To Mr. T. Norton Longman_ _Foxholes, May 29th._--Lord Derby's Speeches contain more political wisdom than any other book of our time. I think people will find out its permanent value. _June 13th._--I have nothing to correct or alter in the Greville Memoirs, and am glad to find that some sale of them goes on. I am much touched by the [approaching] death of Coleridge, whom I have known so well and so long. I expect he will not survive to-day. He dined with us at The Club on April 24th, and was then very well. _Sic transit._ _Foxholes, October 23rd_.--The notices of our old friend Froude [Footnote: He died on October 20th, in his 77th year.] have been very gratifying--especially the leader in the 'Times.' He leaves the world quite glorified, and they now find out what a great man he was. I wonder whether you are going to attend the funeral. I never send wreaths on such occasions, but if I ever did send one it would be now, for I am truly affected by the loss of such a friend. The newspapers seem to have discovered that there were some big men in the last generation, and that there are very few of them in the present. _Rutland Gate, February 16th, 1895._--I am pretty well--not worse than usual; but I don't go out. My dear old friend, Lady Stanley of Alderley, died this morning. She was only ill four days, and expired without pain or suffering at eighty-seven. To me an irreparable loss, and to a vast circle of descendants and friends. [Footnote: Among Reeve's papers there are a great many letters from Lady Stanley of Alderley, telling plainly of the long and close friendship between the two. Unfortunately, there are no available letters from Reeve to her.] _To Rear-Admiral Bridge_ [Footnote: At this time Commander-in-Chief in Australian waters.] 62 Rutland Gate, May 2nd.