had had a ride by the river before dinner (of course he
_would_ go and look at boats), and had been talking of you. It was this
day week, by-the-bye.

I know of nothing of public interest that is new in France, except that
I am changing my moustache into a beard. We all send our most tender
loves to dearest Miss Macready and all the house. The Hammy boy is
particularly anxious to have his love sent to "Misr Creedy."

Ever, my dearest Macready,
Most affectionately yours.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. Wilkie Collins.]

VILLA DES MOULINEAUX, BOULOGNE, _Sunday, July 13th, 1856._

MY DEAR COLLINS,

We are all sorry that you are not coming until the middle of next month,
but we hope that you will then be able to remain, so that we may all
come back together about the 10th of October. I think (recreation
allowed, etc.), that the play will take that time to write. The ladies
of the _dram. pers._ are frightfully anxious to get it under way, and to
see you locked up in the pavilion; apropos of which noble edifice I have
omitted to mention that it is made a more secluded retreat than it used
to be, and is greatly improved by the position of the door being
changed. It is as snug and as pleasant as possible; and the Genius of
Order has made a few little improvements about the house (at the rate of
about tenpence apiece), which the Genius of Disorder will, it is hoped,
appreciate.

I think I must come over for a small spree, and to fetch you. Suppose I
were to come on the 9th or 10th of August to stay three or four days in
town, would that do for you? Let me know at the end of this month.

I cannot tell you what a high opinion I have of Anne Rodway. I took
"Extracts" out of the title because it conveyed to the many-headed an
idea of incompleteness--of something unfinished--and is likely to stall
some readers off. I read the first part at the office with strong
admiration, and read the second on the railway coming back here, being
in town just after you had started on your cruise. My behaviour before
my fellow-passengers was weak in the extreme, for I cried as much as you
could possibly desire. Apart from the genuine force and beauty of the
little narrative, and the admirable personation of the girl's identity
and point of view, it is done with an amount of honest pains and
devotion to the work which few men have better reason to appreciate than
I, and whi