Rain has come, but it is still deliciously warm and fine in the intervals.

Later in the same year Mr. Greville wrote:—

London, August 26, 1856.

My dearest Fay,—I have just got your letter of Saturday 23rd from Frankfort, and as you state therein that you were to leave that place on Monday, and that the letters which I sent to Malet for you could only reach him on that morning, it is next to certain that they will not have reached you. I requested him, in the event of your having left Frankfort, or in his failing to find you out, to send them on to the p. restante at Venice, and you will probably find them there together with this letter, but I think it best also to send you the originals for fear of accident, as it is desirable that you should write to Mr. Harrison yourself.[59] In the meanwhile, I have told him that when I knew your address I would apprize him of it, and in a few days I shall write and say that you are at Venice; but I don't think he will write to you any more, but that he will expect to know when you are likely to return. Having got so far, it of course is out of the question that you should think of, or for a moment be expected to return on purpose, and I think it most likely you will be able to get Watts to go and look at the picture, in case the matter should be pressing; but I think it will be best that you offer to return to England before you settle at Paris, and whenever your present tour (which I told Mr. Harrison was one for artistic purposes) shall be ended. It will be a great bore having to come back even then, on purpose. I am sorry you did not get the letters at Frankfort; on the whole though, perhaps they would only have worried you and have made you hesitate as to returning, and which perhaps you might have thought shorter and less troublesome than having to come back by-and-bye. However, it is very probable you may get Watts to do what is necessary, and that you may be saved the expense and bore of another journey here in the autumn. Adelaide and I contemplated the possibility of your coming over at once from Frankfort, and we both deprecated the idea, though we privately said how intensely glad we should be to see you—selfish as it might be; and it was arranged that I was to telegraph to her to Tunbridge where she is gone to-day. Thanks, you dear boy, for your letter just received. I can understand your pleasure at finding yourself in your old haunts again, with your old friend and master to whom you owe so much. It is a great comfort to me to find that he likes your drawings, though I never doubted his doing so. I was amused by your account of the Pimp and Ballerina, whose modesty seems to have attracted you more than that of the Russian Princess. Since writing to you last I have done but little. I am come into town this morning expecting to find Ffrench, but he has not turned up. I saw Sister A.[60] yesterday on her way through, but my visit was spoilt by the —— Girls and Cigala, who (as he never made love to me) appears to me merely a bon sabreur and horse fancier. You know my opinion of the young ladies, who, par parenthèse, adore you. I am still at H. (Holland) House, and shall remain there until Friday, when I come to dine with Adelaide, and shall then go to Hatchford until I repair to Worsley—my sister will be established there before long. Yesterday, Ellesmere's secretary sent me a letter to say that the gent. of the hanging committee "would take care that Mr. Leighton's pictures were placed in the most favourable position."[61] So let us hope for the best. I must tell you that Vic. is come home, and is now opposite to me, and that she looks admirably well. We have had heaps of people at H. House at dinner almost every day. Marochetti came yesterday. He is full of the subject of colouring statues, and has just taken to Osborne two busts which the Queen was to present to-day to P. Albert for his birthday. Marochetti traite d'imbéciles all the English sculptors who cannot yet take in this "undoubted fact." He says Gibson is the only one who admits it, but even he will not go Marochetti's lengths. Watts is (you know) at Malvern, and the doctor thought him decidedly better before he went, and that he may get into tolerable health. I think he is to be at Malvern three weeks. John Leslie's wedding is at this moment proceeding; he has almost settled to buy Lady C. Lascelles' house at Campden Hill, which will be a capital position for his studio, and another Sunday lounge for you next year. Next year! (eheu fugaces!) a long time to wait to see you again under my roof, you very dear boy. I always think this dispersing time so melancholy. I wonder if I shall hear from you before Venice. Oh yes, of course, you will write wherever you stop. Mind and tell me about your studies, and what you see and do—above all things take care of your health, and don't catch fever by working in the sun, &c. Charles says he can't think where your hat box can be—he is in ecstasies with your old trousers, which have come out brand new and a capital fit! You would be quite envious if you could see them.

Good-bye, best of Fays. I shall send this letter off and write another in a few days. I will mark outside the dates of my letters (and pray, mind and always date yours—you never do) so that you will know which to open first. God bless you, you dear good fellow.—Love your fond old,

Babbo.

London, Thursday, August 28.

Dearest Fay,—One line to say that this afternoon your letter of Sunday with the enclosed for Harrison reached me. It is a relief to me that you got the letters, and I think your answer does very well, but as it had no cover, and that I was obliged to send it in my own name to Harrison, I added, what you had better have done, that if necessary you could easily come over the beginning of November, and I rather hope they will accept that offer, as by that time the Court will have returned from Scotland (perhaps to Windsor though), and you might have a chance of being brought into contact with Albert, and you would jabber good German to him and win his heart, which may be valuable to you. With regard to Watts, he said he should be too happy to do anything for you, but he wished you to be thrown with Albert. He (Watts) is better and has left Malvern. I got yesterday the Manchester Guardian, with a sort of preliminary list of the pictures which are to be opened to the private view to-morrow. They were not then all hung, but they mention the "Romeo" as in a conspicuous place—a sombre picture, but the Romeo and Juliet finely conceived—or something to that effect. You shall hear all about it. I have got little Ffrench till Saturday, when I go to Hatchford and he home. I expect Adelaide to-morrow—we dine with her, and I fear shall have ——, which will be a potent bore. There is of course no other news. Penelope Bentinck has produced a huge boy, and is quite well. John Leslie's marriage went off without any tears, and he made a very good "neat and appropriate."

God bless you, my very dear boy—you are not so fond of me as I am of you—be sure of it. Take care of yourself, and write to and love your old

Babbino.