My dear Whitley
My conscience smote me much on receiving your letter.— The reason I did not write sooner, was that I kept on hoping that I might have come in propriâ personâ.— I am at present mad about Geology & I daresay I shall put a plan which I am now hatching, into execution sometime in August, viz of riding through Wales & staying a few days at Barmouth on my road.—2 Even if I was to come there, I should not be of much assistance to Mr. D. B. or indeed Mr. D B to me, as I much suspect his pronunciation.3 I get on very slowly with Spanish. the number of words is quite terrifying & the number of meanings to each word is still more discouraging.—4 I must contrive to pay you a visit, & as for Lowe, the number of facts he must have picked up, must be worth any thing.—5 I heard a Coachman the other day call a broken-winded, spavined horse, a “faggot of misery”. I thought to myself, the man must be a friend of Lowes. I heard from Watkins yesterday6 he says, he finds them so devilish familiar at home, that he is obliged to take a little tour in order to protect himself.— He intends seeing Grey & Cavendish at Tremadock, & most likely Barmouth.7 I should like much to meet him there With Lowes assistance, we might have a good deal of instructing conversation.—
You do not deserve even so long a letter, as I have written. You do not even mention how you like Barmouth, whom you have there, what you do &c &c &c.— I think I shall most certainly see you in August8 till then, believe me dear Whitley | yours Chas Darwin.—
Please cite as “DCP-LETT-102A,” in Ɛpsilon: The Charles Darwin Collection accessed on