without her aid or word this time, for
she was so deeply pleased with the gift that she said she never
could write to you. It came timely to me at least. It is a
right morning thought, full of health and flowing genius, and I
rejoice in it. It is fitly framed and tomorrow is to be hung in
the parlor.

--------
* Morghen's engraving of Guido's Aurora.
--------

Our Munroe's press, you must believe, was of Aristotle's category
of the high-minded and slow. Chiding would do no good. They
still said, "We have but one copy, and so but one hand at work"!
At last, on the 1st of July, the book appeared in the market, but
does not come from the binder fast enough to supply the instant
demand; and therefore your two hundred and sixty copies cannot
part from New York until the 20th of July. They will be on board
the London packet which sails on that day. The publisher has his
instructions to bind the volumes to match the old ones. Our year
since the publication of the Vols. I. and II. is just complete,
and I have set the man on the account, but doubt if I get it
before twelve or fourteen days. All the edition is gone except
forty copies, he told me; and asked me if I would not begin to
print a small edition of this First Series, five hundred, as we
have five hundred of the new Series too many, with that view.
But I am now so old a fox that I suspend majestically my answer
until I have his account. For on the 21st of July I am to pay
$462 for the paper of this new book: and by and by the printer's
bill,--whose amount I do not yet know; and it is better to be
"slow and high-minded" a little more, since we have been so much,
and not go deeper into these men's debt until we have tasted
somewhat of their credit. We are to get, as you know, by
contract, near a thousand dollars from these first two volumes;
yet a month ago I was forced to borrow two hundred dollars for
you on interest, such advances had the account required. But the
coming account will enlighten us all.

I am very happy in the "success" of the London lectures. I have
no word to add tonight, only that Sterling is not timber-toned,
that I love his poetry, that I admire his prose with reservations
here and there. What he knows he writes manly and well. Now and
then he puts in a pasteboard man; but all our readers here take
_Blackwood_ for his sake, and lately seek him in vain. I am
getting on with some studies of mine prosperously for me, have
go