We had no reason, in a financial point of view, to regret our venture. A publisher offered Richard £500 for it, but I said, "No, let me do it." It was seventeen months' hard work, but we found (no matter how) the means of printing and binding and circulating. We were our own printers and our own publishers, and we made between September, 1885, and November, 1888, sixteen thousand guineas, six thousand of which went towards publishing, and ten thousand into our own pockets; and it came just in time to give my husband the comforts and luxuries and freedom that gilded the five last years of his life. When he died there were four florins left, which I put in the poor-box. WHAT ALL THE WORLD SAID. _Athenæum_, February 6th, 1886. "TO RICHARD F. BURTON. "_ On his Translation of the 'Arabian Nights.'_ "Westward the sun sinks, grave and glad; but far Eastward, with laughter and tempestuous tears, Cloud, rain, and splendour as of Orient spears, Keen as the sea's thrill toward a kindling star The sundawn breaks the barren twilight's bar And fires the mist and slays it. Years on years Vanish, but he that hearkens eastward hears Bright music from the world where shadows are. "Where shadows are not shadows. Hand-in-hand A man's word bids them rise and smile and stand And triumph. All that glorious Orient glows Defiant of the dusk. Our twilight land Trembles; but all the heaven is all one rose, Whence laughing love dissolves her frosts and snows. ----"ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE." _Morning Advertiser_, September 15th, 1885.