Christ Church, Oxford,

    November 11, 1886.

My Dear Mrs. Hargreaves,—­Many thanks for your permission to insert “Hospitals” in the Preface to your book.  I have had almost as many adventures in getting that unfortunate facsimile finished, Above ground, as your namesake had Under it!

First, the zincographer in London, recommended to me for photographing the book, page by page, and preparing the zinc-blocks, declined to undertake it unless I would entrust the book to him, which I entirely refused to do.  I felt that it was only due to you, in return for your great kindness in lending so unique a book, to be scrupulous in not letting it be even touched by the workmen’s hands.  In vain I offered to come and reside in London with the book, and to attend daily in the studio, to place it in position to be photographed, and turn over the pages as required.  He said that could not be done because “other authors’ works were being photographed there, which must on no account be seen by the public.”  I undertook not to look at anything but my own book; but it was no use:  we could not come to terms.

Then —­ recommended me a certain Mr. X—­, an excellent photographer, but in so small a way of business that I should have to prepay him, bit by bit, for the zinc-blocks:  and he was willing to come to Oxford, and do it here.  So it was all done in my studio, I remaining in waiting all the time, to turn over the pages.

    But I daresay I have told you so much of the story already.

Mr. X—­ did a first-rate set of negatives, and took them away with him to get the zinc-blocks made.  These he delivered pretty regularly at first, and there seemed to be every prospect of getting the book out by Christmas, 1885.

    On October 18, 1885, I sent your book to Mrs. Liddell, who
    had told me your sisters were going to visit you and would
    take it with them.  I trust it reached you safely?

    Soon after this—­I having prepaid for the whole of the
    zinc-blocks—­the supply suddenly ceased, while twenty-two
    pages were still due, and Mr. X—­ disappeared!

My belief is that he was in hiding from his creditors.  We sought him in vain.  So things went on for months.  At one time I thought of employing a detective to find him, but was assured that “all detectives are scoundrels.”  The alternative seemed to be to ask you to lend the book again, and get the missing pages re-photographed.  But I was most unwilling to rob you of it again, and also afraid of the risk of loss of the book, if sent by post—­for even “registered post” does not seem absolutely safe.

    In April he called at Macmillan’s and left eight
    blocks, and again vanished into obscurity.