le, after your hard work.

My girls and Georgina send their kindest regards to Madame Regnier and
to you. My Gad's Hill house (I think I omitted to tell you, in reply to
your enquiry) is on the very scene of Falstaff's robbery. There is a
little _cabaret_ at the roadside, still called The Sir John Falstaff.
And the country, in all its general features, is, at this time, what it
was in Shakespeare's. I hope you will see the house before long. It is
really a pretty place, and a good residence for an English writer, is it
not?

Macready, we are all happy to hear from himself, is going to leave the
dreary tomb in which he lives, at Sherborne, and to remove to
Cheltenham, a large and handsome place, about four or five hours'
railway journey from London, where his poor girls will at least see and
hear some life. Madame Celeste was with me yesterday, wishing to
dramatise "A Tale of Two Cities" for the Lyceum, after bringing out the
Christmas pantomime. I gave her my permission and the book; but I fear
that her company (troupe) is a very poor one.

This is all the news I have, except (which is no news at all) that I
feel as if I had not seen you for fifty years, and that

I am ever your attached and faithful Friend.

[Sidenote: Mr. T. Longman.]

TAVISTOCK HOUSE, _Monday, Nov. 28th, 1859._

MY DEAR LONGMAN,

I am very anxious to present to you, with the earnest hope that you will
hold him in your remembrance, young Mr. Marcus Stone, son of poor Frank
Stone, who died suddenly but a little week ago. You know, I daresay,
what a start this young man made in the last exhibition, and what a
favourable notice his picture attracted. He wishes to make an additional
opening for himself in the illustration of books. He is an admirable
draughtsman, has a most dexterous hand, a charming sense of grace and
beauty, and a capital power of observation. These qualities in him I
know well of my own knowledge. He is in all things modest, punctual, and
right; and I would answer for him, if it were needful, with my head.

If you will put anything in his way, you will do it a second time, I am
certain.

Faithfully yours always.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] Mr. Edmund Yates.

1860.

NARRATIVE.

This winter was the last spent at Tavistock House. Charles Dickens had
for some time been inclining to the idea of making his home altogether
at