With regard to the ’House of Clouds’[84] I disagree both with you and Miss Mitford, thinking it, comparatively with my other poems, neither so bad nor so good as you two account it.  It has certainly been singled out for great praise both at home and abroad, and only the other day Mr. Horne wrote to me to reproach me for not having mentioned it to him, because he came upon it accidentally and considered it ‘one of my best productions.’  Mr. Kenyon holds the same opinion.  As for Flush’s verses, they are what I call cobweb verses, thin and light enough; and Arabel was mistaken in telling you that Miss Mitford gave the prize to them.  Her words were, ’They are as tender and true as anything you ever wrote, but nothing is equal to the “House of Clouds."’ Those were her words, or to that effect, and I refer to them to you, not for the sake of Flush’s verses, which really do not appear even to myself, their writer, worth a defence, but for the sake of your judgment of her accuracy in judging.

Lately I have received two letters from the profoundest woman thinker in England, Miss Martineau—­letters which touched me deeply while they gave me pleasure I did not expect.

My poor Flush has fallen into tribulation.  Think of Catiline, the great savage Cuba bloodhound belonging to this house, attempting last night to worry him just as the first Catiline did Cicero.  Flush was rescued, but not before he had been wounded severely:  and this morning he is on three legs and in great depression of spirits.  My poor, poor Flushie!  He lies on my sofa and looks up to me with most pathetic eyes.

Where is Annie?  If I send my love to her, will it ever be found again?

May God bless you both! 
Dearest Mr. Boyd’s affectionate and grateful
E.B.B.

[Footnote 81:  ‘To Flush, my dog’ (Poetical Works, iii. 19).]

[Footnote 82:  Published in Blackwood’s Magazine for August 1843, and called forth by Mr. Horne’s report as assistant commissioner on the employment of children in mines and manufactories.]

[Footnote 83:  Evidently a slip of the pen for ‘Children.’]

[Footnote 84:  Poetical Works, iii. 186.  Mr. Boyd’s opinion of it may be learnt from Miss Barrett’s letter to Horne, dated August 31, 1843 (Letters to R.H.  Horne, i. 84):  ’Mr. Boyd told me that he had read my papers on the Greek Fathers with the more satisfaction because he had inferred from my “House of Clouds” that illness had impaired my faculties.’]

To H.S.  Boyd Monday, September 19, 1843.

My own dear Friend,—­I should have written instantly to explain myself out of appearances which did me injustice, only I have been in such distress as to have no courage for writing.  Flush was stolen away, and for three days I could neither sleep nor eat, nor do anything much more rational than cry. Confiteor tibi, oh reverend father.  And if you call me very silly, I am so used to the reproach throughout the week as to be hardened to the point of vanity.  The worst of it is, now, that there will be no need of more ‘Houses of Clouds’ to prove to you the deterioration of my faculties.  Q.E.D.