Arthur Dixon letters

happy. Is there any flush of pleasure any fruition of enjoyment like making another happy when you see it is so? – Ah, John how do I hope you may have often drank deep of that rapture, for often have you made me supremely happy & I had not much disguise about me, that may have requited you – little else than that consciousness I now ruefully regret to think I gave you. – But I wander amongst recollections too well entertained for your happiness. At Seven this morning I breakfasted at Thorpe, from whence I started to accompany Mr Geldart to Felthorpe where he is staying untill tomorrow morn. After leaving him there, & after he had robbed of some of its brightest ornaments the garden, I return. The morning was fine. Carlo was with me, so though I was alone I was not entirely alone. That Dog is better than no Cotmans but poor Carlo – sometimes I said, Wheres John! hie Carlo! – Wheres Edmund –! hie – forward! – he stept, he would not, did not run forward with his usual quick erect pace, but looked in my face, placing himself alongside. Imagine him: did it not express “they are [word crossed out?] – not are they forward!” – It said most plainly – “they are not here!” – I dare say with fourteen miles walk [with – crossed out] the poor fellow was tired, but as I was not, & sentiment was rife, I interpreted for Carlo & fancied because he refused to course about his usual range that as Jean Jacques Rousseau made birds confabulate he might allow [someth – crossed out] a creature rather nobler the same privilege & so I put in his mouth, what poor Brute, he never dreamt of in his philosophy, “J’aime mieux les plaisirs qui sont