A week later, your letter arrived. I was heartily glad to
get the crimson Book itself. I had looked for it with the first
ships. As it came not, I had made up my mind to that hap also.
It was quite fair: I had disentitled myself. He, the true
friend, had every right to punish me for my sluggish contumacy,--
backsliding, too, after penitence. So I read with resignation
our blue American reprint, and I enclose to you a leaf from my
journal at the time, which leaf I read afterwards in one of my
lectures at the Music Hall in Boston. But the book came from the
man himself. He did not punish me. He is loyal, but royal as
well, and, I have always noted, has a whim for dealing _en grand
monarque._ The book came, with its irresistible inscription, so
that I am all tenderness and all but tears. The book too is
sovereignly written. I think you the true inventor of the
stereoscope, as having exhibited that art in style, long before
we had heard of it in drawing.
-------
* This letter and the Extract from the Diary are printed from a
copy of the original supplied to me by the kindness of Mr.
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