ment I got to London--four days after the fire. Although the audience
part and the stage were so tremendously burnt out that there was not a
piece of wood half the size of a lucifer-match for the eye to rest on,
though nothing whatever remained but bricks and smelted iron lying on a
great black desert, the theatre still looked so wonderfully like its
old self grown gigantic that I never saw so strange a sight. The wall
dividing the front from the stage still remained, and the iron
pass-doors stood ajar in an impossible and inaccessible frame. The
arches that supported the stage were there, and the arches that
supported the pit; and in the centre of the latter lay something like a
Titanic grape-vine that a hurricane had pulled up by the roots, twisted,
and flung down there; this was the great chandelier. Gye had kept the
men's wardrobe at the top of the house over the great entrance
staircase; when the roof fell in it came down bodily, and all that part
of the ruins was like an old Babylonic pavement, bright rays tesselating
the black ground, sometimes in pieces so large that I could make out the
clothes in the "Trovatore."

I should run on for a couple of hours if I had to describe the spectacle
as I saw it, wherefore I will immediately muzzle myself. All here unite
in kindest loves to dear Miss Macready, to Katie, Lillie, Benvenuta, my
godson, and the noble Johnny. We are charmed to hear such happy accounts
of Willy and Ned, and send our loving remembrance to them in the next
letters. All Parisian novelties you shall see and hear for yourself.

Ever, my dearest Macready,
Your affectionate Friend.

P.S.--Mr. F.'s aunt sends her defiant respects.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]

49, AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSEES, PARIS,
_Thursday Night, March 27th, 1856 (after post time)._

MY DEAREST MACREADY,

If I had had any idea of your coming (see how naturally I use the word
when I am three hundred miles off!) to London so soon, I would never
have written one word about the jump over next week. I am vexed that I
did so, but as I did I will not now propose a change in the
arrangements, as I know how methodical you tremendously old fellows are.
That's your secret I suspect. That's the way in which the blood of the
Mirabels mounts in your aged veins, even at your time of life.

How charmed I shall be to see you, and we all shall be