etter of the same year, 25th July, after a page of remarks
on editorial matters, he writes:--

* * * * *

"If Italy could but achieve some brilliant success in arms! That she
does not, causes, I think, some disappointment here, and makes her
sluggish friends more sluggish, and her open enemies more powerful. I
fear too that the Italian ministry have lost an excellent opportunity
of repairing the national credit in London city, and have borrowed
money in France for the poor consideration of lower interest, which"
_[sic_, but I suspect _which_ must be a slip of the pen for _than_]
"they could have got in England, greatly to the re-establishment of a
reputation for public good faith. As to Louis Napoleon, his position
in the whole matter is to me like his position in Europe at all times,
simply disheartening and astounding. Between Prussia and Austria there
is, in my mind (but for Italy), not a pin to choose. If each could
smash the other I should be, as to those two Powers, perfectly
satisfied. But I feel for Italy almost as if I were an Italian born.
So here you have in brief my confession of faith.

"Mr. Home" [as he by that time called himself,--when he was staying in
my house his name was Hume], "after trying to come out as an actor,
first at Fechter's (where I had the honour of stopping him short), and
then at the St. James's Theatre under Miss Herbert (where he was
twice announced, and each time very mysteriously disappeared from the
bills), was announced at the little theatre in Dean Street, Soho, as
a 'great attraction for one night only,' to play last Monday. An
appropriately dirty little rag of a bill, fluttering in the window of
an obscure dairy behind the Strand, gave me this intelligence last
Saturday. It is like enough that even that striking business did not
come off, for I believe the public to have found out the scoundrel; in
which lively and sustaining hope this leaves me at present.

"Ever faithfully yours,

"CHARLES DICKENS."

* * * * *

Here is a letter which, as may be easily imagined, I value much. It
was written on the 2nd of November, 1866, and reached me at Brest. It
was written to congratulate me on my second marriage, and among the
great number which I received on that occasion is one of the most
warm-hearted:--

* * * * *

"MY DEAR TROLLOPE,--I should have written immediately to congratulate