surely not out of place?

The effect on its publication was tremendous. The poem went through the
land like wild-fire. Nearly every paper quoted it, headed by the
"Times;" it was the talk of the hour, the talk of the country. It went
straight to John Bull's kind, _bourgeois_, sympathetic heart, just as
Carlyle declared that Ruskin's truths had "pierced like arrows" into
his. The authorship, too, was vigorously canvassed with intense
interest. Dickens, with that keen insight and critical faculty which had
enabled him almost alone among literary experts to detect the sex of
George Eliot, then an unknown writer (though doubtless he was helped in
the case I now speak of by Hood's letter to him just quoted), was one of
the few who at once named the writer of the verses. And it was well for
Hood that he had proof positive of the authorship, for one of the most
curious things connected with the poem was the number of persons who had
the incomprehensible audacity to claim it. One young gentleman was
mentioned by name, either by his friends or himself, and I find a letter
in a volume of newspaper cuttings to this effect: "I have just read, to
my great surprise, the announcement in your paper that Mr. Hood wrote
'The Song of the Shirt,' because _I know positively_ that what I before
stated to you is the fact." So hard pressed, indeed, was Hood, that he
wrote a private letter in February, 1845, in the following terms:--

"As I have publicly acknowledged the authorship of the '_Song of
the Shirt_,' I can have no objection to satisfy you privately on
the subject. My old friends Bradbury and Evans, the proprietors of
_Punch_, could show you the document conclusive on the subject. But
I trust my authority will be sufficient, especially as it comes
from _a man on his death-bed_."

Had these literary vultures had their way, Hood would have been brazened
out of his verses altogether.

_Punch_ shared handsomely in the glory of the poet, and its circulation
_tripled_ on the strength of it. And Mrs. Hood, poor soul, triumphed in
her prophecy; for had she not said, and maintained in spite of each
successive rejection from foolish editors--"Now mind, Hood, mark my
words; this will tell wonderfully! It is one of the best things you ever
did!"

And so this song, which, in spite of its defects, still thrills you as
you read, achieved such a popularity that for sudden and enthusiastic
applause its reception has