I shall look forward to your coming to see me, if I am seriously
ill--"Be with me when my light is low." But I don't think that
this illness which I at present have is serious enough to make any
of my friends anxious, and it would be rather awkward for my
friends to come and take leave of me if I recovered, which I mean
to do, for what I think a good reason--because I STILL have a good
deal to do.

B. JOWETT.

My beloved friend died in 1893.

The year before his death he had the dangerous illness to which he
alludes in the above letter. Every one thought he would die. He
dictated farewell letters to all his friends by his secretary and
housekeeper, Miss Knight. On receiveing mine from him at Glen, I
was so much annoyed at its tone that I wired:

Jowett Balliol College Oxford.

I refuse to accept this as your farewell letter to me you have
been listening to some silly woman and believing what she says.
Love. MARGOT.

This telegram had a magical effect: he got steadily better and
wrote me a wonderful letter. I remember the reason that I was
vexed was because he believed a report that I had knocked up
against a foreign potentate in Rotten Row for a bet, which was not
only untrue but ridiculous, and I was getting a little impatient