is my refuge, my
solace--escape out of the personal net. I delight in it, as in my early
morning walks at Lugano, when I went threading the streets and by the
lake away to "the heavenly mount," like a dim idea worming upward in a
sleepy head to bright wakefulness.

'My anonymous critic, of whom I told you, is intoxicating with eulogy.
The signature "Apollonius" appears to be of literary-middle indication.
He marks passages approved by you. I have also had a complimentary
letter from Mr. Dacier:

'For an instance of this delight I have in writing, so strong is it that
I can read pages I have written, and tear the stuff to strips (I did
yesterday), and resume, as if nothing had happened. The waves within are
ready for any displacement. That must be a good sign. I do not doubt
of excelling my PRINCESS; and if she received compliments, the next may
hope for more. Consider, too, the novel pleasure of earning money by
the labour we delight in. It is an answer to your question whether I am
happy. Yes, as the savage islander before the ship entered the bay with
the fire-water. My blood is wine, and I have the slumbers of an
infant. I dream, wake, forget my dream, barely dress before the pen is
galloping; barely breakfast; no toilette till noon. A savage in good
sooth! You see, my Emmy, I could not house with the "companionable
person" you hint at. The poles can never come together till the earth is
crushed. She would find my habits intolerable, and I hers contemptible,
though we might both be companionable persons. My dear, I could not even
live with myself. My blessed little quill, which helps me divinely to
live out of myself, is and must continue to be my one companion. It
is my mountain height, morning light, wings, cup from the springs, my
horse, my goal, my lancet and replenisher, my key of communication with
the highest, grandest, holiest between earth and heaven-the vital air
connecting them.

'In justice let me add that I have not been troubled by hearing of
any of the mysterious legal claims, et caetera. I am sorry to hear bad
reports of health. I wish him entire felicity--no step taken to bridge
division! The thought of it makes me tigrish.

'A new pianist playing his own pieces (at Lady Singleby's concert) has
given me exquisite pleasure' and set me composing songs--not to his
music, which could be rendered only by sylphs moving to "soft recorders"
in the humour of wildness, languor, bewitching caprices, giving