LONDON, October 9th, 1867.
—I paid a flying visit to the workhouse, went for an hour to a Female Heathen Educational Association meeting (it looks like Mrs. Pardiggle in "Bleak House" !) ; we wrote letters and scrambled through odd jobs, bade farewell to peggies and Head, and set off on our travels. Our charming honeymoon courier Hoffman is with us, as convinced as ever that we are about 5 years old and not to be trusted to take our own tickets. Crossed from Folkestone to Boulogne ; a good deal of rain and wind, but somehow F. did not succumb, and I am all right in anything short of a violent, prolonged gale. All is fun to me ; the little wizzy mob-capped neat-as-a-pin peggy, the jabbering voices on the landing.
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