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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I
Saturday — January 26, 1918
January 26, 1918
Of course I did see and read what was inside the envelope. Do you imagine I don't always turn the envelope upside down and breathe into them and shut one eye and stare up at them, always thinking one of your eyelashes or perhaps a tiny twinkle out of your eye may still be there? Oh, I like the Wordsworth story: it makes my heart warm to him. 1
page 112It is a different kind of day to-day, il y a un peu de vent. But with the bright sun it makes the sea an incredible, almost violet colour. I went for a walk yesterday and got lost—you know how one can. I couldn't find either the path to the shore, or the main road inland. And it kept getting on for sunset and the shadows great appeared before I was found. You should see the swerves I take past the dogs. They really are Bragian upstarts and their bold eyes and lifted lips terrify me. I thought: What if I had a bull-dog of my own? Would that help? But then I should always be frightened it would wait until we got to a lonely bit and then turn on me. No, the only thing would be a very awful imitation dog—one that I could make smoke come out of its eyes and fire out of its mouth when it passed one of these mongrels. Look out for one for me….
1 The story is contained in the following extract from my letter: “He [my brother] told me a story about Wordsworth—where he can have got it from I don't know. It's stupid, but characteristic, and it makes me love the old fellow rather. One day Wordsworth was dining with a friend. Some rather aged, yellowish peas were served. The friend, in order to turn it off said to W., “Forgive me, but I forgot to send these peas to Kensington.' ‘To Kensington?’ says W. ‘Why, pray?’ ‘Because that is the way to Turnham Green.’ W. thought this an extremely good joke, resolved to remember it, and to let it fly on the first opportunity. It came very soon. He dined with a friend whose peas were also rather passé. He turned to the lady of the house. ‘Madam, I am afraid you forgot to send these peas to Kensington.’ ‘To Kensington, Mr. Wordsworth? Why, pray?’ ‘Because that is the way to make’ em green.' And he roared with laughter.”