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Begbie, Harold, 1871-1929

"The Bed-Book of Happiness"

BROOKFIELD IN HIS YOUTH
[Sidenote: _W.H. Brookfield_]
My Dear Venables,
Notwithstanding the proverbial irregularity of the English mails and the
infamous practice of Government in embezzling all private letters for
the King's private reading, yours of the 17th eluded observation at the
post office so as to reach me; and was as acceptable as, considering the
wearisome frequency of your communications lately, could possibly be
expected.
My last was a scrawl from Althorp--where we spent six weeks. That there
are 60,000 volumes you know. I read them all, excepting a pamphlet in a
_patois_ of the Sanscrit, written by a learned, but, I regret to add,
profane Hindoo Sectarian, the blasphemous drift of which was to prove
that Bramah's locks were not all patent.
We went to town to the fiddling[9] which it was the pill[10] of the day
to cry down. I was much gratified by the show and altogether. I sate by
the Duke of Wellington, who was good enough to go out to fetch me a pot
of porter. When "See the Conquering Hero comes" was sung in _Judas
Maccabeus_, all eyes were turned upon me. I rose and bowed--but did not
think the place was suited for any more marked acknowledgment. The King
sang the Coronation Anthem exceedingly well, and Princess Victoria
whistled the "Dead March" in _Saul_ with, perhaps, rather less than her
usual effect.


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