t resist enclosing what you say, with so much
experimental appreciativeness of his book, and of his
intention to fill it with moral sunshine. I am sure he 'll
send a new sonnet if he has one, but I fancy his bardic day
is over. I should think he was probably not subject to
melancholy when he wrote the _Wayfarer_. However, he tells
me that his spirits have improved in Italy. One other little
book of Herrickian verse he has written, called _The
Shepherd!s Garden_, but there are no sonnets in it. Besides
this, he published a volume containing a record of travel of
a very interesting kind, and called _The Pilgrimage of the
Tiber_. This is well known. It is illustrated, many of the
drawings being by himself, for he is quite as much painter
as poet. He also wrote in _The Quarterly Review_ an article
on the sonnet (I should think about 1870 or so), and, a
little later, one which raised great wrath, on the English
School of Painting. These I have not seen. He "lacks
advancement," however; having fertile powers and little
opportunity, and being none the luckier (I think) for a
small independence which keeps off _compulsion_ to work,
though of willingness he has abundance in many directions.

There is an admirable but totally unknown living poet named
Dixon. I will send you two small vols, of his which he gave
me long ago, but please take good care of them, and return
them as soon as done with. I value them highly. I forgot
till to-day that he had written any sonnets, but I see there
are three in one vol. and one in another. I have marked my
two favourites. He should certainly be represented in your
book. If I live, I mean to write something about him in some
quarter when I can. His finest passages are as fine as any
living man can do. He was a canon of Carlisle Cathedral, and
at present has a living somewhere. If you wanted to ask him
for an original sonnet, you might mention my name, and
address him at Carlisle with _Please forward_. Of course he
is a Rev.

You will be sorry to hear that Davies has abandoned the hope
of producing a new sonnet to his own satisfaction. I have
again, however, urged him to the onslaught, and told him how
deserving you are of his efforts.

Swinburne, who is a vast admirer of my sister's, thinks the