_Paris, October 1878._
MY DEAR MOTHER,--I have seen Hamerton; he was very kind, all his family
seemed pleased to see an _Inland Voyager_, and the book seemed to be
quite a household word with them. P. G. himself promised to help me in
my bargains with publishers, which, said he, and I doubt not very
truthfully, he could manage to much greater advantage than I. He is also
to read an _Inland Voyage_ over again, and send me his cuts and cuffs in
private, after having liberally administered his kisses _coram publico_.
I liked him very much. Of all the pleasant parts of my profession, I
think the spirit of other men of letters makes the pleasantest.
Do you know, your sunset was very good? The "attack" (to speak
learnedly) was so plucky and odd. I have thought of it repeatedly since.
I have just made a delightful dinner by myself in the Cafe Felix, where
I am an old established beggar, and am just smoking a cigar over my
coffee. I came last night from Autun, and I am muddled about my plans.
The world is such a dance!--Ever your affectionate son,