“I do not know if my Belgium bit reached you in time, and our post is now so irregular here I may not know for some days. “I hear that the Government mean to hand over Eyre to the Radicals; and though there is much in his case hard to defend, that the man did his best in a great difficulty according to ‘his lights’ I am convinced. “I have such a good story for you about Drummond Wolff _versus_ Bulwer,--but I can’t write it. You shall hear it, however, when I come over in spring, even if I go down to Edinburgh to tell it. “A great many happy Christmases to you and all yours.” _To Mr John Blackwood._ “Croce di Malta, Spezzia, Dec. 30, 1866. “Your last pleasant note and its ‘stuffing’ has just reached me here, where I am consularising, bullying Custom-house folk, and playing the devil with all the authorities to show my activity in the public service. I can’t endure being away from home and my old routine life; but there was no help for it, and I am here now for another week to come. “The name I want for the author of Tony is ‘Arthur Helsham,’ the name of my mother’s family; and the last man who bore the aforesaid was the stupidest blockhead of the house, and the luckiest too. _Faustum sit augurium_. “As to G. Berkeley’s book, it is quite impossible to do anything at all commensurate with so rascally a book. It is hopeless work trying to make a sweep dirtier, and I agree with you--better not touch him.” XVI. FLORENCE AND SPEZZIA 1866 _To Mr John Blackwood._ “Villa Morelli, Florence, _Jan_. 3,1866. “I came back from Spezzia this morning to find your pleasant letter and its enclosure. I thank you much for both. I wanted the money not a little, but half suspect I wanted the kind assurances of your satisfaction just as much. I was not content with your opinion of the last ‘O’Dowds,’ most probably from some lurking suspicion that you might be right, and that they were not as good as they ought to be, or as I meant them to be. Now I am easier on that score,--and since I have seen them in print I am better pleased also. “My Xmas was cut in two: I was obliged to go down to Spezzia the day after Christmas Day and stay there ever since, idling, far from pleasantly, and living at a bad inn somewhat dearer than the Burlington. I could not write while there; but I have turned over a couple of ‘O’Dowds’ in my head, and if they be heavy don’t print them, and I’ll not fret about it. It’s not very easy, in a place like this, where the only conversation is play or intrigue, to find matters of popular interest. “I often wish I could break new ground; but I’m too old, perhaps, to transplant. But I’ll not grumble now: it’s Christmas, and I wish you and all around you every happiness that Christmas should bring. “I hope you like my last envoy of ‘Sir B.’ which I trust to see in proof in a few days.