in the most romantic of our halting-places, that you would
have sworn we had the Spirit of Beauty with us, as well as the Spirit of
Fun. But stop till you come to England--I say no more.

The actuary of the national debt couldn't calculate the number of
children who are coming here on Twelfth Night, in honour of Charley's
birthday, for which occasion I have provided a magic lantern and divers
other tremendous engines of that nature. But the best of it is that
Forster and I have purchased between us the entire stock-in-trade of a
conjurer, the practice and display whereof is intrusted to me. And O my
dear eyes, Felton, if you could see me conjuring the company's watches
into impossible tea-caddies, and causing pieces of money to fly, and
burning pocket-handkerchiefs without hurting 'em, and practising in my
own room, without anybody to admire, you would never forget it as long
as you live. In those tricks which require a confederate, I am assisted
(by reason of his imperturbable good humour) by Stanfield, who always
does his part exactly the wrong way, to the unspeakable delight of all
beholders. We come out on a small scale, to-night, at Forster's, where
we see the old year out and the new one in. Particulars shall be
forwarded in my next.

I have quite made up my mind that F---- really believes he _does_ know
you personally, and has all his life. He talks to me about you with such
gravity that I am afraid to grin, and feel it necessary to look quite
serious. Sometimes he _tells_ me things about you, doesn't ask me, you
know, so that I am occasionally perplexed beyond all telling, and begin
to think it was he, and not I, who went to America. It's the queerest
thing in the world.

The book I was to have given Longfellow for you is not worth sending by
itself, being only a Barnaby. But I will look up some manuscript for you
(I think I have that of the American Notes complete), and will try to
make the parcel better worth its long conveyance. With regard to
Maclise's pictures, you certainly are quite right in your impression of
them; but he is "such a discursive devil" (as he says about himself) and
flies off at such odd tangents, that I feel it difficult to convey to
you any general notion of his purpose. I will try to do so when I write
again. I want very much to know about ---- and that charming girl. . . .
Give me full particulars. Will you remember me cordially to Sumner, and
say I thank him for his welcome letter?