The notion [that] one is going to write a nice long letter is fatal to writing at all. And so I mean to scribble something, somehow, a little oftener & make up in quantity for quality! For after all the great thing, the thing one wants, is to _meet_--if not in the flesh--then in the spirit. A word will do it. I am getting on--my heart is in my work--& though I have been long about it, it won't be long--but I think & hope it will be strong. Quite a sprinkling of American friends--some new ones this spring--among them Mr. & Mrs. Pennell[41] from Philadelphia--whom you know--we like them well--hope to see them again & again. Also Miss Keyse (her sister married Emerson's son) from Concord, and the Lesleys--Mary Lesley has married & gone to the West--St. Paul--has just got a little son. How does the "little shanty" answer, I wonder? Herby has been painting some charming little bits in an old terraced garden here. I do wish you could hear Giddy sing now; I am sure her voice would "go to the right spot," as you used to say. Good-bye, dearest friend. Love from all & most from ANNE GILCHRIST. LETTER LXXI ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN _Wolverhampton Oct. 26, '84._ DEAR WALT: I don't suppose the enclosed will give you nearly so much pleasure as it gives me. But Villiers Stanford is, I think, the best composer England has produced since the days of Purcell & Blow, and your words will be sent home to hundreds & thousands who had not before seen them. How lovely the words read as themes for great music! I have been staying with old friends who have a house you would enjoy--it stands all alone on the top of a heath-clad hill, with miles of coppice (young woods) below it, and spread out beyond is a rich valley with more wooded hills jutting out into it--and you see the storms a long way off travelling up from the sea, and you can wander for miles & miles through the woods or over the breezy hill--or, as you sit at your window, feel yourself in the very heart of a great, beautiful solitude. Very kind, warm friends, too, they are, who leave you as free as a bird to do what you like. I have had all the papers, dear friend, & have enjoyed them. Now I am in the heart of the "Black Country," as we call it--black with the smoke of thousands of foundries & works of all kinds--staying with Percy & his wife. Percy is having a very arduous time here starting some Steel Works--& what with his men being inexperienced & times bad & the machinery not yet perfectly adjusted, he seems harassed night & day--for these things have to be kept going all night too--but I hope he will get into smoother waters soon. The little son is rosy & bright & healthy--goes to school now, which, being an only child, he enjoys mightily for the sake of the companionship of other boys. Love from us all, dear friend. A. GILCHRIST. Grace & Herby well & busy when I left. LETTER LXXII ANNE GILCHRIST TO WALT WHITMAN _Keats Corner Hampstead Dec. 17, '84._