er, without any introduction, why, tear that out; all,
except (if you like the Verse well enough to adopt it) the first sentence
of Dedication to yourself: adding your full name and Collegiate Honours
whenever you care so to do.

Your account of your Harvard original in the Atlantic Monthly was quite
well fitted for its purpose: a general account of it for the general
reader, without going into particulars which only the Scholar would
appreciate.

I believe I told you that thirty years ago at least I advised our
Trinity's Master, then only Greek Professor, to do the like with one of
the Greek Tragedies, in what they call their Senate-house, well fitted
for such a purpose. But our Cambridge is too well fed, and slow to stir;
and I not important enough to set it a-going.

By the way, I have been there for two days; not having seen the place for
those same thirty years, except in passing through some ten years ago to
Naseby Field, for the purpose of doing Carlyle's will in setting up a
memorial Stone with his Inscription upon it. But the present owners of
the Place would not consent: and so that simple thing came to nothing.

Well, I went again, as I say, to Cambridge a month ago; not in my way to
Naseby, but to my friend George Crabbe's (Grandson of my Poet) in
Norfolk. I went because it was Vacation time, and no one I knew up
except Cowell and Aldis Wright. Cowell, married, lives in pleasant
lodging with trees before and behind, on the skirts of the town; Wright,
in 'Neville's Court,' one side of which is the Library, all of Wren's
design, and (I think) very good. I felt at home in the rooms there,
walled with Books, large, and cool: and I was lionized over some things
new to me, and some that I was glad to see again. Now I am back again,
without any design to move; not even to my old haunts on our neighbouring
Sea-coast. The inland Verdure suits my Eyes better than glowing sand and
pebble: and I suppose that every year I grow less and less desirous of
moving.

I will scarce touch upon the Carlyle Chapter: except to say that I am
sorry Froude printed the Reminiscences; at any rate, printed them before
the Life which he has begun so excellently in the 'Nineteenth Century'
for July. I think one can surely see there that Carlyle might become
somewhat crazed, whether by intense meditation or Dyspepsy or both:
especially as one sees that his dear good Mother was so afflicted. But
how beautiful is the Story of th