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In this brief record of my literary life, I ought not to ignore sundry true and constant book-friends known to me only by correspondence, and that in some cases through many years.  I cannot touch them all, and shrink even from mentioning one or two, for fear of seeming to omit others; but I will endeavour to do my best and wisest in the matter.

Foremost, then, among those unseen favourers of your author is the Baroness Stanislas von Barnekow, of Engelholme, in Sweden; with whom during fifteen years I have interchanged certainly fifty letters, if not more, hers at least being full of the utmost kindliness, cleverness, and (for a foreigner) even truly poetic eloquence.  This tribute to her talents and warm feelings is only a debt of gratitude.  She it was who voluntarily translated into Swedish my two first series of “Proverbial Philosophy,” and many of my lyrics in “Cithara;” and naturally I was willing to answer her in kind (for the Baroness is an excellent and well-known poetess in her own land), but, as unfortunately the Swedish tongue is not among my few accomplishments, I was glad to turn to a diligent and authorial eldest daughter of mine, who learnt the language for me, and responded to our unseen friend with many of her poems rendered into English verse, as she had similarly favoured mine in Swedish.  My said daughter afterwards improved upon the idea by several more like translations, since published in book-form, as some from the Sagas, and in particular many original poems of much merit from the pen of King Oscar and Princess Eugenie, which greatly pleased them, as their photographs and autographs testified; the Baroness’s brother, Count Von Wrede, who is the King’s Chamberlain, having kindly given facilities.  I trust that my old “friend unseen,” Stanislas, will not be displeased by this proof that I remember with appreciation her many expressions of esteem for my unworthiness.

Next, I do not know that I have mentioned the late learned Norman poet, George Metivier, as having long ago translated my “Proverbial Philosophy” into French; he died at a great age, I think past ninety, and was highly honoured by his native Guernsey, through life and death; I remember him with much gratitude for his labour of love in respect of my book.  Through many years also I have corresponded with another Norman poet, John Sullivan, whose very clever French poems I have often versified into English for him, and he has returned the compliment by sending translated fly-leaves of mine over the Gallic world.

Let one more in this authorial category be the excellent and learned Canon R.C.  Jenkins, whom I have known from his childhood, and who in these latter years has routed out for me, chiefly out of Zedler’s “Genealogical Encyclopaedia,” the heraldry and ancestry of my own Thuringian pedigree; the Canon being one of our keenest antiquaries in that line, and having German at his fingers’ ends.  He comes, as I do, from old Lutheran stock, and is full both of prose and poetry of a high class.  My best regards to him and his.