| 16 March 1866.
5, Lansell’s Place,
Margate.
My dear child,
I arrived here
yesterday evening, ¾ past seven.
According to your instructions, I left my luggage behind me, in the cloak room,
and was then landed by the omnibus at a small inn, called the
King’s Arms
. Having ordered a rumpsteak, and
being shown to the coffeeroom, which was rather dimly illuminated, I took rather
fright (you know my anxious temper) at a lean, long, stiff sort of man, midway
between parson and commisvoyageur, solitarily and motionlessly seated before the
chimney. From the vagueness of his glanceless eye, I thought him a blind man. I
was confirmed in that notion by some long, scarflike, narrow white thing spread
over his legs,
what
(?)
//
with regular holes in it. I fancied it to
be paper cut out by the blind man to serve as a catchpenny from the frequenters
of the inn. When my supper arrived, the man began somewhat to move
and
what with 
//
, quietly took off his boots, and
warmed his elephantine feet at the fire. What with this agreeable spectacle, and
his supposed blindness, and what with a rumpsteak, which seemed, in its natural
state, to have belonged to a diseased cow, I passed this first Margate evening
anything but comfortably. But, in compensation, the bedroom was snug, the bed
clean and elastic, and the sleep sound. When at the breakfast table, who
stepped
should step
in but the man of the evening. He turned out to be deaf and not blind.
What had so much vexed me—I mean the thing on his knees—was a pocket
handkerchief, of singular fashion, with a greyish ground
and 
//
interspersed by black eyes which I had mistaken
for holes. Feeling shy of the man, I settled my bill as soon as possible, and,
after some erratic course, 
| hit upon my present lodging, in front of the
sea, a large
be
//
sitting room
and a bedroom, 10 sh. p
er
week.
​
When striking my bargain, the
additional clause was agreed upon that,
on your
arrival,
you will get your bedroom
for
nothing
.
The first thing I did, was taking a warm sea bath. It was delicious. So is the
air here. It is a wonderful air.
As to boarding houses, they are almost empty now, and, as I understood the
librarian, hardly
yet
prepared for the reception of guests. As to
dining rooms, there seems some difficulty to get at a proper one, but by the by
this obstacle will be overcome.
And now, with my best compliments to all, by bye!
Yours
Mohr.
I have to-day already walked 5 hours.