sguise of a black velvet mask, two inches deep by three broad,
following him into taverns and worse places, and enquiring of persons of
doubtful reputation for "the sublime Williams," was inexpressibly
ridiculous. And yet the nonsense was done with a sense quite admirable.

I have been very much struck by the book you sent me. It is one of the
wisest, the manliest, and most serviceable I ever read. I am reading it
again with the greatest pleasure and admiration.

Ever most affectionately yours,
My dear Macready.

[Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.]

VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE,
_Saturday, Aug. 27th, 1853._

MY DEAR MRS. WATSON,

I received your letter--most welcome and full of interest to me--when I
was hard at work finishing "Bleak House." We are always talking of you;
and I had said but the day before, that one of the first things I would
do on my release would be to write to you. To finish the topic of "Bleak
House" at once, I will only add that I like the conclusion very much
and think it _very pretty indeed_. The story has taken extraordinarily,
especially during the last five or six months, when its purpose has been
gradually working itself out. It has retained its immense circulation
from the first, beating dear old "Copperfield" by a round ten thousand
or more. I have never had so many readers. We had a little reading of
the final double number here the night before last, and it made a great
impression I assure you.

We are all extremely well, and like Boulogne very much indeed. I laid
down the rule before we came, that we would know nobody here, and we
_do_ know nobody here. We evaded callers as politely as we could, and
gradually came to be understood and left to ourselves. It is a fine
bracing air, a beautiful open country, and an admirable mixture of town
and country. We live on a green hill-side out of the town, but are in
the town (on foot) in ten minutes. Things are tolerably cheap, and
exceedingly good; the people very cheerful, good-looking, and obliging;
the houses very clean; the distance to London short, and easily
traversed. I think if you came to know the place (which I never did
myself until last October, often as I have been through it), you could
be but in one mind about it.

Charley is still at Leipzig. I shall take him up somewhere on the Rhine