to see the article on the new poet, Alexander Smith, who appears so
applauded everywhere. He has the poet's _stuff_ in him, one may see from
the extracts. Do you know him? And Coventry Patmore--have you heard
anything of _his_ book,[21] of which appears an advertisement?

Ah, yes; how unfortunate that you should have parted with your
copyrights! It's a bad plan always, except in the case of novels which
have their day, and no day after.

The poem I am about will fill a volume when done. It is the novel or
romance I have been hankering after so long, written in blank verse, in
the autobiographical form; the heroine, an artist woman--not a painter,
mind. It is intensely modern, crammed from the times (not the 'Times'
newspaper) as far as my strength will allow. Perhaps you won't like it,
perhaps you will. Who knows? who dares hope?

I am beginning to be anxious about 'Colombe's Birthday.' I care much
more about it than Robert does. He says that nobody will mistake it for
_his_ speculation, it's Mr. Buckstone's affair altogether. True; but I
should like it to succeed, being Robert's play notwithstanding. But the
play is subtle and refined for pits and galleries. I am nervous about
it. On the other hand, those theatrical people ought to know; and what
in the world made them select it if it is not likely to answer their
purpose? By the way, a dreadful rumour reaches us of its having been
'_prepared for the stage by the author_.' Don't believe a word of it.
Robert just said 'yes' when they wrote to ask him, and not a line of
communication has passed since. He has prepared nothing at all,
suggested nothing, modified nothing. He referred them to his new
edition; and that was the whole.