. The works of William Makepeace Thackeray . tches collectedand exhibited after Cruikshanks death. He accepted the task,declaring he would fail. If I were you. Papa, I would write all round the subject andsay as little as possible about it. This was the quiet voice of his youngest daughter. Thank you, my dear, he said, and I can see him pacing theroom impatiently and her sitting calmly by—the most reposeful,the most observant of women, then a girl of twenty, with shiningbronze hair and bright rosy cheeks ; she was ever reserved, but withhim in perfect sympathy of taste and feeling. My fathers
. The works of William Makepeace Thackeray . tches collectedand exhibited after Cruikshanks death. He accepted the task,declaring he would fail. If I were you. Papa, I would write all round the subject andsay as little as possible about it. This was the quiet voice of his youngest daughter. Thank you, my dear, he said, and I can see him pacing theroom impatiently and her sitting calmly by—the most reposeful,the most observant of women, then a girl of twenty, with shiningbronze hair and bright rosy cheeks ; she was ever reserved, but withhim in perfect sympathy of taste and feeling. My fathers last letter to Dr. John Brown, with whom my sister was staying in Edinburgh that autumn, touches on Denis Duval :— Palace Green, September 23, 1863. My J. B.,—I am very glad you like my little Min;with her and her sister I have led such a happy life that I amafraid almost as I think of it lest any accident should disturb . We three get on so comfortably together that the house isnot the house when one is awav. r • I ^^^. DENIS AND DR. BARNARD INTRODUCTION xxix I have (lone no work for a whole year, and must now set toat tliis stale old desk, or tliere will be no beef and mutton—I havespent too much money on this fine house one way or tother, besidesgimcracks, china, plate, the deuce knows what. I am not in debt,thank my stars, but instead of writing to you, why am I notwriting the history of Denis Duval, Esq., Admiral of the WhiteSquadron] Because I dont know anything about the sea andseamen, and get brought up by my ignorance every other page. Good-bye, my dear J. B. My love to the children.—Yourgrateful old friend,^ W. M. T. There is a chapter of Denis Duval hitherto not printed,in which my father says, Over the back of the armchair in whichI sit, I remember, as a boy, how there used to hang a little slim,powdered queue which dear old Doctor C Avore. (Doctor C. wasDoctor Carmichael-Smyth.) His son inherited the chair; he alsohas passed away. As I lean i
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