GRAHAME

4pp., 12mo. Bifolium with mourning border. Good, on lightly-aged paper. The poem is of eighteen lines, and begins: 'I agree, my dear friend that whatever we feel | We are really no more than the "flies on the wheel." | And that there's little more which each one of [us] does | Than fluster & flurry & worry & buzz | But each has his place if he only could know it | But I doubt very much if my place is a poet!

12mo, 2 pp. Good, on lightly-aged paper. He is sending a cheque for thirty-five pounds for 'Skirving's picture of my mother with which I am well pleased', which he 'got from the Hall porter at the Reform'. Reports that the picture 'has been exposed to a very serious risk of entire destruction, the plate-glass having been shivered to pieces in the packing case. Wonderful to say, the damage done is confined to the dark & unimportant parts of the drawing'. When Grahame 'heard the broken glass rattling in the Box', he had 'no hope of the picture being sound'.