e vessel, and I had as much air in it, night and day, as I
chose. The saloon being kept absolutely without air, I mostly dined in
my own den, in spite of my being allotted the post of honour on the
right hand of the captain.

The tickets for the first four readings here (the only readings
announced) were all sold immediately, and many are now re-selling at a
large premium. The tickets for the first four readings in New York (the
only readings announced there also) were on sale yesterday, and were all
sold in a few hours. The receipts are very large indeed; but engagements
of any kind and every kind I steadily refuse, being resolved to take
what is to be taken myself. Dolby is nearly worked off his legs, is now
at New York, and goes backwards and forwards between this place and that
(about the distance from London to Liverpool, though they take nine
hours to do it) incessantly. Nothing can exceed his energy and good
humour, and he is extremely popular everywhere. My great desire is to
avoid much travelling, and to try to get the people to come to me,
instead of my going to them. If I can effect this to any moderate
extent, I shall be saved a great deal of knocking about. My original
purpose was not to go to Canada at all; but Canada is so up in arms on
the subject that I think I shall be obliged to take it at last. In that
case I should work round to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and then take the
packet for home.

As they don't seem (Americans who have heard me on their travels
excepted) to have the least idea here of what the readings are like, and
as they are accustomed to mere readings out of a book, I am inclined to
think the excitement will increase when I shall have begun. Everybody
is very kind and considerate, and I have a number of old friends here,
at the Bar and connected with the University. I am now negotiating to
bring out the dramatic version of "No Thoroughfare" at New York. It is
quite upon the cards that it may turn up trumps.

I was interrupted in that place by a call from my old secretary in the
States, Mr. Putnam. It was quite affecting to see his delight in meeting
his old master again. And when I told him that Anne was married, and
that I had (unacknowledged) grandchildren, he laughed and cried
together. I suppose you don't remember Longfellow, though he remembers
you in a black velvet frock very well. He is now white-haired and
white-bearded, but remarkably handsome. He still lives in his old house,
w