nate Father.

[Sidenote: Miss Hogarth.]

MORRISON'S HOTEL, DUBLIN, _Wednesday, Aug. 25th, 1858._

I begin my letter to you to-day, though I don't know when I may send it
off. We had a very good house last night, after all, that is to say, a
great rush of shillings and good half-crowns, though the stalls were
comparatively few. For "Little Dombey," this morning, we have an immense
stall let--already more than two hundred--and people are now fighting in
the agent's shop to take more. Through some mistake of our printer's,
the evening reading for this present Wednesday was dropped, in a great
part of the announcements, and the agent opened no plan for it. I have
therefore resolved not to have it at all. Arthur Smith has waylaid me
in all manner of ways, but I remain obdurate. I am frightfully tired,
and really relieved by the prospect of an evening--overjoyed.

They were a highly excitable audience last night, but they certainly did
not comprehend--internally and intellectually comprehend--"The Chimes"
as a London audience do. I am quite sure of it. I very much doubt the
Irish capacity of receiving the pathetic; but of their quickness as to
the humorous there can be no doubt. I shall see how they go along with
Little Paul, in his death, presently.

While I was at breakfast this morning, a general officer was announced
with great state--having a staff at the door--and came in, booted and
plumed, and covered with Crimean decorations. It was Cunninghame, whom
we knew in Genoa--then a captain. He was very hearty indeed, and came to
ask me to dinner. Of course I couldn't go. Olliffe has a brother at
Cork, who has just now (noon) written to me, proposing dinners and
excursions in that neighbourhood which would fill about a week; I being
there a day and a half, and reading three times. The work will be very
severe here, and I begin to feel depressed by it. (By "here," I mean
Ireland generally, please to observe.)

We meant, as I said in a letter to Katie, to go to Queenstown yesterday
and bask on the seashore. But there is always so much to do that we
couldn't manage it after all. We expect a tremendous house to-morrow
night as well as to-day; and Arthur is at the present instant up to his
eyes in business (and seats), and, between his regret at losing
to-night, and his desire to make the room hold twice as many as it
_will_ hold, is half distracted. I have become a wonderful
Irishman--must play an Irish pa