TC TO LADY HARRIET BARING ; 21 April 1843; DOI: 10.1215/lt-18430421-TC-LHB-01; CL 16: 134
TC TO LADY HARRIET BARING
Chelsea, Friday, 21 April 
Dear Lady Harriet,
Tomorrow I think of pilgriming on foot to a certain Shrine; the name of it is Addiscombe,1 and it is not the Military College there. I shall arrive all dusty, weary, woebegone; but if the light of your looks fall on me,—and if I had my hands washed,—I shall become quite cheerful again; and stay with you to dinner; and go home, according to the Yellow Ticket,2 at half-past eight,—in an improved frame of mind. It is probably the last I shall see of you—?— For the Book is no longer to be hidden; I have just addressed a copy of it to Stanhope Street,3 and there it will arrive this night!—
If you are to be from home Tomorrow, or in any way engaged, never mind me and my pilgrimages. I shall at least hear the larks sing, see the green face of my old Mother Earth undefaced by soot, once again; discover where you dwell; and return with profit sufficient. The gypsey existence has considerable charms for me; roving in the open air, even with no company but Silence, is not so bad. Indeed I have thoughts of pitching a marquee somewhere on the slope of the Addiscombe Hills, for a week or two, this summer; and there, in perfect savage liberty, “communing with Nature” and some other things! Verily it would be worth trying, even with a brown loaf and well of water for one's diet,—if one had the heart!
Buller4 did not seem to be sure even of Wednesday; but I hope he has got out nevertheless.
The Sun is extremely polite to you, is he not?— If I do not come tomorrow, consider simply that the Demons have run thro' this beautiful project, and that somehow or other I am in the worst luck.— With blessings.
Yours ever /