--Tell me, however, what has become of
your Book on England? We shall really be obliged to you for
that. A piece of it went through all the Newspapers, some years
ago; which was really unique for its quaint kindly insight,
humor, and other qualities; like an etching by Hollar or Durer,
amid the continents of vile smearing which are called "pictures" at
present. Come on, Come on; give us the Book, and don't loiter!--
Miss Bacon has fled away to _St. Alban's_ (the _Great_ Bacon's
place) five or six months ago; and is there working out her
Shakespeare Problem, from the depths of her own mind, disdainful
apparently, or desperate and careless, of all _evidence_ from
Museums or Archives; I have not had an answer from her since
before Christmas, and have now lost her address. Poor Lady: I
sometimes silently wish she were safe home again; for truly
there can no madder enterprise than her present one be well
figured. Adieu, my Friend; I must stop short here. Write soon,
if you have any charity. Good be with you ever.
--T.
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