Monday. July 18th.
Bro went to Worcester, & I entrusted him with a commission, about exchanging Da Vinci for Reynold’s Lectures.[1] He went at 8, with Mr. Martin. At breakfast time we heard a speaking in low voices between Bummy & Lane at the door. Something wrong,—but I wd. not be grave before my time. It wd. not have been before my time. After breakfast Bummy told us that Reid had come, & requested to look at the house. We all four got out of it as soon as we could, & walked down to Mrs. Barker’s—& stayed there until Minny brought us word that the coast was clear. Such a trembling, I had in my feet—& within me. The suspension of the advertisements is nothing favorable, after all our strawcatching hopes. Well! it will be well!— Bummy wrote to Papa, to tell him,—& she let me write one page of the letter, in which I told him about my Homer. I sent too my note to Mr. Boyd. At four, she fancied that it would do me good to drive out; & as she could not go herself on account of wishing to write letters, she sent both H & A with me. We drove to the Wyche—& tied the poney to the turnpike gate; & then walked along the Worcestershire side walk. When we had reached the point immediately above Ruby Cottage, I sate down meditating a descent. But Henrietta remonstrated, & talked of fatigue & Bummy & Mrs. Martin & “what oclock is it”, until my resolution to walk backwards instead of forwards was almost taken. At the instant that I was wondering whether I might see Mr. Boyd walking out, Henrietta imagined “There he is”,—and Arabel confirmed that there he positively was. “I know the way to the walk which he has taken— — Come & I will show you.” So down the hill, she bounded; & after her, I bounded; & Henrietta, after me. Down the hill—down the perpendicular—steeper & steeper—into the wood—steeper than steeper! I ran because I could not walk, from one tree to another, half laughing & half crying & half scolding Arabel. For I was half inclined to imagine that she was taking me in; & had no more seen Mr. Boyd than I was likely to see him. At last we arrived at the entrance of Essington’s gardens:[2] & Arabel declared that he & Mr. Spowers were walking within them. But I had suddenly grown modest,—& declared that I would not investigate the point any further. I fancied that the gardens were private, & that Mr. Boyd might — — in short I shyed. But as I was turning, a clear view was caught of him & his companion,—so I changed my mind, & went to meet him. Met him—I said “Henrietta & Arabel are with me”. And then they said that they would go & find a donkey; & then Mr. Boyd offered me his arm, & we walked up & down the pleasant shady walk, until the donkey arrived. Talked about Homer & Virgil, & Messrs. James & Collyer,[3] et cœterœs & a. Donkey came—& I was obliged to go. Arrived safely at the Wyche, & from thence home at 20 minutes to 8—talking of our adventures —of Mr. Boyd—and of his not shaking hands with Henrietta when she held out hers & said “Good morning Mr. Boyd.” How should he know about her holding out her hand?—
He had not received my note when I met him; of which I was glad.
1. [Sir Joshua Reynolds], Seven Discourses Delivered in the Royal Academy by the President (London, 1778).
2. “Essington’s Hotel has a pleasure ground, with a number of pretty walks attached to it, and commands a fine view over the country” (A Guide to Malvern; with Observations on the Air and Waters, Malvern, [1840?], p. 37).
3. As Mr. James was “a celebrated preacher” (see entry of 16 July), it seems probable from the context that the Mr. Collyer discussed here was the Rev. William Bengo Collyer (1782–1854), a renowned Congregationalist minister, and author of several series of popular lectures on scriptural subjects.
