I dare say you are quite right about my 'Birds': indeed I think I had always told you that my Version was of no _public_ use; I only wanted a few Copies for private use; and I wanted you to add a short Account, and a few Notes; in which I am shy of trusting my own Irish Accuracy. But you have plenty of better work, and _this_ is quite as well left. Miss Ingelow's second volume isn't half so good as her first, to my thinking; more ambitious, with a twang of Tennyson. I can't add to the List you have sent of Elizabeth's Poems. Maria C[harlesworth] was staying with my Brother at Boulge in the Autumn, and sent a very kind message to me; I now am sorry I did not see her; but I keep out of the way of the _Company_ at Boulge, though I am glad to see my Brother here. So I wish I had asked her to take the Trouble to come and see me in my Den. Alas! if ever you do come back, you will have to come and see me; for I really go nowhere now. Frederic Tennyson came to me for a few Days, and talked of you two: he was looking very well; and was grand and kind as before. I hear little of Alfred. Spedding's Bacon seems to hang fire; they say he is disheartened at the little Interest, and less Conviction, that his two first volumes carried; Thompson told me they had only convinced _him_ the other way; and that _Ellis_ had long given up Bacon's Defence before he died. Now my sheet is filled on the strength of my own Glass of Porter--all at a heat. So Good Bye: ever yours, E. F. G. _To S. Laurence_. MARKET HILL: WOODBRIDGE. _April_ 23/64. DEAR LAURENCE, I only got home last Night, from Wiltshire, where I had been to see Miss Crabbe, daughter of the old Vicar whom you remember. I found your two Letters: and then your Box. When I had unscrewed the last Screw, it was as if a Coffin's Lid were raised; there was the Dead Man. {55} I took him up to my Bedroom; and when morning came, he was there--reading; alive, and yet dead. I am perfectly satisfied with it on the whole; indeed, could only have suggested a very, very, slight alteration, if any. . . As I passed through London, I saw that wonderful Collection of Rubbish, the late Bishop of Ely's Pictures; but I fell desperately in Love with a Sir Joshua, a young Lady in white with a blue Sash, and a sweet blue Sky over her sweet, noble, Head; far above Gainsboro' in its Air and Expression. I see in the Papers that it went for 165 pounds; which, if I thought well to give so much for any Picture, I could almost have given, by some means, for such a delightful Work. MARKET HILL, WOODBRIDGE. _April_ 27/64. DEAR LAURENCE,