Let me know what Wigan says. If he does not take the play, and readily too, I would recommend you not to offer it elsewhere. You have gained great reputation by it, have done your position a deal of good, and (as I think) stand so well with it, that it is a pity to engender the notion that you care to stand better. Ever faithfully. [Sidenote: Mr. W. H. Wills.] FOLKESTONE, _September 16th, 1855._ MY DEAR WILLS, Scrooge is delighted to find that Bob Cratchit is enjoying his holiday in such a delightful situation; and he says (with that warmth of nature which has distinguished him since his conversion), "Make the most of it, Bob; make the most of it." [I am just getting to work on No. 3 of the new book, and am in the hideous state of mind belonging to that condition.] I have not a word of news. I am steeped in my story, and rise and fall by turns into enthusiasm and depression. Ever faithfully. [Sidenote: The Hon. Mrs. Watson.] FOLKESTONE, _Sunday, Sept. 16th, 1855._ MY DEAR MRS. WATSON, This will be a short letter, but I hope not unwelcome. If you knew how often I write to you--in intention--I don't know where you would find room for the correspondence. Catherine tells me that you want to know the name of my new book. I cannot bear that you should know it from anyone but me. It will not be made public until the end of October; the title is: "NOBODY'S FAULT." Keep it as the apple of your eye--an expressive form of speech, though I have not the least idea of what it means. Next, I wish to tell you that I have appointed to read at Peterboro', on Tuesday, the 18th of December. I have told the Dean that I cannot accept his hospitality, and that I am going with Mr. Wills to the inn, therefore I shall be absolutely at your disposal, and shall be more than disappointed if you don't stay with us. As the time approaches will you let me know your arrangements, and whether Mr. Wills can bespeak any rooms for you in arranging for me? Georgy will give you our address in Paris as soon as we shall have settled there. We shall leave here, I think, in rather less than a month from this time. You know my state of mind as well as I do, indeed, if you don't know it much better, it is not the state of mind I take it to be. How I work, how I walk, how I shut myself up, how I roll down hills and climb up cliffs; how the new story is everywhere--heaving in the sea, flying with the clouds, blowing in the wind; how I settle to nothing, and wonder (in the old way) at my own incomprehensibility. I am getting on pretty well, have done the first two numbers, and am just now beginning the third; which egotistical announcements I make to you because I know you will be interested in them.