[London,] 5 September 1866 

My beloved master +. 

I bow to the earth before your immensity, whatever part you 
may condescend to act, that of the infinitely small or the infinitely 
grand. 

Your letters have enchanted us, and we were really bursting out 
with laughter on reading that fine passage in which you describe 
the spontaneous explosion produced by the exhibition spinster. 

I am belaboured by a gorilla offspring‘ who can hardly spend 
the separation from a velvet mouse he has put his mind upon.‘ If 
he knew her, as well as I do, he would, of course, be still more 

4 Marx omitted points 7 and 8 here. - b K. Marx, ‘Instructions for the Delegates of 
the Provisional General Council. The Different Questions’. - © Paul Lafargue - 
d Laura Marx 

Calypso, qui ne pouvait se consoler du départ d’Ulysse* She may be a 
Calypso, but he is not an Ulysses, with all that. A spoonzy fellow 
rather. However, he deserves some praise at my hands. He has 
worked hard (from 1 o’clock p.m. to 9) in translating the 
instructions I had to draw up for the Geneva Congress 
delegates.*”> He has worked not less hard as a tailor at certain 
gymnastic apparatus you are to use. Last, not least, he affects great 
attention to the scientific gabble I affect to treat him with, 
although he and myself are far away from the scene of the mental 
entertainment. 

The day before yesterday the Lormiers were here and the 
Negrillo,, too. Old Lormier, on the pretext of having to 
communicate him some gymnastic trick, told him ‘secretly’ and 
discreetly, of course, he must stop that fountain of saliva which, 
while smoking, he is in the habit of inundating the chimney with. 
When both returned from the kitchen, where the secret communi- 
cation was taking place, our poor Negrillo looked rather downcast, 
and behaved like a ‘good boy’. 

In fact, I liked the boy, at the same time, I think, rather jealous 
of his encroachments upon my old ‘geheimsecretar’.* 

Don’t forget to write me immediately what you have to pay per 
week. 

The damned weather! I hope it will still mend. 

Address of Memeliten*: ‘Mrs Goodbun, Rose and Crown, Dover.’ 

Adio, my dear child. Many kisses to you and to the immortal 
Cacadou, 

0- 
Yours —— 
oO 

You don’t want to write to Mama, as she probably leaves Dover 
on Friday for another watering-place.