A.Y.R.  Office, London, Monday, February 15, 1869.

My Dear Fields:  Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah!  It is a remarkable instance of magnetic sympathy that before I received your joyfully welcomed announcement of your probable visit to England, I was waiting for the enclosed card to be printed, that I might send you a clear statement of my Readings.  I felt almost convinced that you would arrive before the Farewells were over.  What do you say to that?

    The final course of Four Readings in a week, mentioned in the
    enclosed card, is arranged to come off, on

    Monday, June 7th;

    Tuesday, June 8th;

    Thursday, June 10th; and

    Friday, June 11th:  last night of all.

We hoped to have finished in May, but cannot clear the country off in sufficient time.  I shall probably be about the Lancashire towns in that month.  There are to be three morning murders in London not yet announced, but they will be extra the London nights I send you, and will in no wise interfere with them.  We are doing most amazingly.  In the country the people usually collapse with the murder, and don’t fully revive in time for the final piece; in London, where they are much quicker, they are equal to both.  It is very hard work; but I have never for a moment lost voice or been unwell; except that my foot occasionally gives me a twinge.  We shall have in London on the 2d of March, for the second murder night, probably the greatest assemblage of notabilities of all sorts ever packed together.  D——­ continues steady in his allegiance to the Stars and Stripes, sends his kindest regard, and is immensely excited by the prospect of seeing you.  Gad’s Hill is all ablaze on the subject.  We are having such wonderfully warm weather that I fear we shall have a backward spring there.  You’ll excuse east-winds, won’t you, if they shake the flowers roughly when you first set foot on the lawn?  I have only seen it once since Christmas, and that was from last Saturday to Monday, when I went there for my birthday, and had the Forsters and Wilkie to keep it.  I had had ——­’s letter four days before, and drank to you both most heartily and lovingly.

I was with M——­ a week or two ago.  He is quite surprisingly infirm and aged.  Could not possibly get on without his second wife to take care of him, which she does to perfection.  I went to Cheltenham expressly to do the murder for him, and we put him in the front row, where he sat grimly staring at me.  After it was over, he thus delivered himself, on my laughing it off and giving him some wine:  “No, Dickens—­er—­er—­I will NOT,” with sudden emphasis, —­“er—­have it—­er—­put aside.  In my—­er—­best times—­er—­you remember them, my dear boy—­er—­gone, gone! —­no,”—­with great emphasis again,—­“it comes to this—­er —­TWO MACBETHS!” with extraordinary energy.  After which he stood (with his glass in his hand and his old square