Your friend Mr. Lloyd has been addressing me a tragedy. I suspect he was piqued by those words in my letter to Burnett which attributed to him "an absence of tragic power." He had a mind to convince me I was wrong; I am obstinate, and have been abusing his tragedy from beginning to end, to convince him I was right. I thought it odd he should send to me his poem to read; he has older and dearer friends who are better judges of the taste of an English public than I, whose taste has been moulded on that of a foreign public. I wrote to him very freezingly — I do not know enough of his heart as yet, to take strong interest in his head.