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war" of words - women's voices with that
attitude of free Culture where the number
is not "more that the Muses, nor less than
the graves" -- leaving out in some vague
sombre distance all suggestion of this "weary
sad, unintelligable world", and as of such
a thing as a sodden, bleary East wind
could have no existence anywhere.

Also, it was "Celestial Tea" and not
"Sublime Tobacco", although both are
called "the last Kind Solace of the
wise and good".

I intended this note to make you
laugh, but the gayety fails where I
think that Baldwyn was so unfortunate
as not to be able to pay his homage to you
last night. You were surrounded by
such a galaxy of the Elect: and he
hasn't the art of a fine audacity - and
Agnes who is under some Lenten, Penetential
vows, could not remain for the feast of
"Lucent syrup, [?] with Cinnamon", which
was to follow - and so "some one had
blundered" - Please accept my sincerest and
best wishes. Agnes Fletcher

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Eastham

"Lucent syrup, [tinct] with Cinnamon",