hysterical manner: "What 'owls
are those? Who is a-'owling? Not my ugebond?" Upon which the doctor,
looking round one of the bottom posts of the bed, and taking Mrs.
Harris's pulse in a reassuring manner, says, with much admirable
presence of mind: "Howls, my dear madam?--no, no, no! What are we
thinking of? Howls, my dear Mrs. Harris? Ha, ha, ha! Organs, ma'am,
organs. Organs in the streets, Mrs. Harris; no howls."

Yours faithfully.

[Sidenote: Mr. W. M. Thackeray.]

TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Tuesday, Feb. 2nd, 1858._

MY DEAR THACKERAY,

The wisdom of Parliament, in that expensive act of its greatness which
constitutes the Guild, prohibits that corporation _from doing anything_
until it shall have existed in a perfectly useless condition for seven
years. This clause (introduced by some private-bill magnate of official
might) seemed so ridiculous, that nobody could believe it to have this
meaning; but as I felt clear about it when we were on the very verge of
granting an excellent literary annuity, I referred the point to counsel,
and my construction was confirmed without a doubt.

It is therefore needless to enquire whether an association in the nature
of a provident society could address itself to such a case as you
confide to me. The prohibition has still two or three years of life in
it.

But, assuming the gentleman's title to be considered as an "author" as
established, there is no question that it comes within the scope of the
Literary Fund. They would habitually "lend" money if they did what I
consider to be their duty; as it is they only give money, but they give
it in such instances.

I have forwarded the envelope to the Society of Arts, with a request
that they will present it to Prince Albert, approaching H.R.H. in the
Siamese manner.

Ever faithfully.

[Sidenote: Mr. John Forster.]

TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Wednesday Night, Feb. 3rd, 1858._

MY DEAR FORSTER,

I beg to report two phenomena:

1. An excellent little play in one act, by Marston, at the Lyceum;
title, "A Hard Struggle;" as good as "La Joie fait Peur," though not at
all like it.

2. Capital acting in the same play, by Mr. Dillon. Real good acting, in
imitation of nobody, and honestly made out by himself!!

I went (at Marston's request) last night, and cried till I sobbed again.
I have