anecdote,--which, as known to others, I could scarcely have
suppressed,--it is only fair to the memory of my dear and honoured
father that I should here produce one of his very few letters to me,
just found among my archives and bearing upon this same subject. It was
written to me at Brighton, and is dated Laura House, Southampton,
October 16, 1842:--

"My dearest Martin,--Anything that I could say, or any
praise that I could give respecting your last volume would, in my
estimation, fall very far short indeed of its merits. I shall
therefore merely say that I look upon your chapter upon
Immortality, not only as a most exquisite specimen of fine, sound,
and learned composition, but as combating in the most satisfactory
manner the _wisdom_ of infidelity, almost perfect. I only hope that
you may receive the just tribute of the literary community: your
own feelings as the author of that chapter must be very enviable.
God bless you, dearest, dearest Martin.--Believe me, ever your
affectionate father and sincere friend,

Martin Tupper."

I need not say that these are "_ipsissima verba_," and that I here
insert the letter in full, as the warmest and most honourable palinode I
could have received from a man so usually reserved and reticent as was
my revered and excellent father.

* * * * *

The brother of my friend Benjamin Nightingale (to be more spoken of
hereafter) was so fascinated with the book that he copied it all out in
his own handwriting, word for word, and was jocularly accused of
pretending to its authorship. I once met an enthusiast who knew both the
two first series by heart,--and certainly he went on wherever I tried to
pose him from the open volume,--my own memory being far less faithful.
Similarly my more recent friend William Hawkes claims to have read the
whole book sixty times; whereof this impromptu of mine is a sort of half
proof:--

_Impromptu_.

"Sixty times, you tell me, friend,
You've read my books from end to end.
Perhaps not all my myriad rhymes,
But all my rhythmics sixty times.
Yes, friend, for I have heard you quote
My old Proverbials by rote
Page after page, and anywhere
Have heard you spout them then and there,
Though I myself had quite forgot
What I had writ, and you had not.

"Well, author surely n