goes away from him, in order to set him free
from the misery entailed upon him, as she supposes, by a
disproportionate marriage. Is not this curious in your republic? We
in England certainly should not play such pranks. A man having
married a wife, his wife stays by him. This dilemma is got over by
the fisherman's turning out to be himself fifth or sixth cousin of
another English lord. But, having lived really as a fisherman ever
since his daughter's birth, he knew nothing of his aristocratic
descent. I think this is the most remarkable thing in the book.
There are certain flings at the New England character (the scene is
laid beside the waters of your Bay) which seem to foretell a not
very remote migration on the part of Mr. Jones, though they may come
from his partner; nothing very bad, only such hits as this: "He was
simple, humble, affectionate, three qualities rare anywhere, but
perhaps more rare in that part of the world than anywhere else." For
the rest the book is far inferior to the best even of Mr. James's
recent productions, such as "Henry Smeaton." These two authors speak
of the corpse of a drowned man as beautified by death, and retaining
all the look of life. You remember what Mr. Hawthorne says of the
appearance of his drowned heroine,--which is right? I have had the
most delightful letter possible (you shall see it when you come)
from dear Dr. Holmes, and venture to trouble you with the enclosed
answer. Yesterday, Mr. Harness, who had heard a bad account of me
(for I have been very ill, and, although much better now, I gather
from everybody that I am thought to be breaking down fast), so like
the dear kind old friend that he is, came to see me. It was a great
pleasure. We talked much of you, and I think he will call upon you.
Whether he call or not, do go to see him. He is fully prepared for
you as Mr. Dyce's friend and Mr. Rogers's friend, and my very dear
friend. Do go; you will find him charming, so different from the
author people that Mr. Kenyon collects. I am sure of your liking
each other. Surely by next week I may be well enough to see you. You
and Mrs. W---- would do me nothing but good. Say everything to her,
and to our dear kind friends, the Bennochs. I ought to have written
to them, but I get as much scolded for writing as talking.

Ever yours, M.R.M.