be long, and I would not miss seeing her for a great deal, though I have
not read one of her late dramas, and only by faith understand that her
wonderful genius has conquered new kingdoms. Her last romance, 'Le
Château des Déserts,' is treated disdainfully in the 'Athenæum.' I have
not read _that_ even, but Mr. Chorley is apt to be cold towards French
writers and I don't expect his judgment as final therefore. Have you
seen M. de la Mare's correspondence with Mirabeau? And do you ever catch
sight of the 'Revue des Deux Mondes'? In the August number is an
excellent and most pleasant article on my husband, elaborately written
and so highly appreciatory as well nigh to satisfy _me_.[5] 'Set you
down this' that there has sprung up in France lately an ardent
admiration of the present English schools of poetry, or rather of the
poetry produced by the present English schools, which they consider _an
advance upon the poetry of the ages_. Think of _this_, you English
readers who are still wearing broad hems and bombazeens for the Byron
and Scott glorious days!

Let me think what I can tell you of the President. I have never seen his
face, though he has driven past me in the boulevards, and past these
windows constantly, but it is said that he is very like his
portraits--and, yes, rumour and the gazettes speak of his riding well.
Wilson and Wiedeman had an excellent view of him the other day as he
turned into a courtyard to pay some visit, and she tells me that his
carriage was half full of petitions and nosegays thrown through the
windows. What a fourth act of a play we are in just now! It is difficult
to guess at the catastrophe. Certainly he must be very sure of his hold
on the people to propose repealing the May edict,[6] and yet there are
persons who persist in declaring that nobody cares for him and that even
a revision of the constitution will not bring about his re-election. _I_
am of an opposite mind; though there is not much overt enthusiasm of the