It is true that I left off letter-writing, as I have done with almost everybody else; but I can’t see how that was misusing him.

“I look upon his epistle as the consequence of my not sending him another hundred pounds, which he wrote to me for about two years ago, and which I thought proper to withhold, he having had his share, methought, of what I could dispone upon others.

“In your last you ask me after my articles of domestic wants; I believe they are as usual:  the bull-dogs, magnesia, soda-powders, tooth-powders, brushes, and every thing of the kind which are here unattainable.  You still ask me to return to England:  alas! to what purpose?  You do not know what you are requiring.  Return I must, probably, some day or other (if I live), sooner or later; but it will not be for pleasure, nor can it end in good.  You enquire after my health and SPIRITS in large letters:  my health can’t be very bad, for I cured myself of a sharp tertian ague, in three weeks, with cold water, which had held my stoutest gondolier for months, notwithstanding all the bark of the apothecary,—­a circumstance which surprised Dr. Aglietti, who said it was a proof of great stamina, particularly in so epidemic a season.  I did it out of dislike to the taste of bark (which I can’t bear), and succeeded, contrary to the prophecies of every body, by simply taking nothing at all.  As to spirits, they are unequal, now high, now low, like other people’s I suppose, and depending upon circumstances.

“Pray send me W. Scott’s new novels.  What are their names and characters?  I read some of his former ones, at least once a day, for an hour or so.  The last are too hurried:  he forgets Ravenswood’s name, and calls him Edgar and then Norman; and Girder, the cooper, is styled now Gilbert, and now John; and he don’t make enough of Montrose; but Dalgetty is excellent, and so is Lucy Ashton, and the b——­h her mother.  What is Ivanhoe? and what do you call his other? are there two?  Pray make him write at least two a year:  I like no reading so well.

“The editor of the Bologna Telegraph has sent me a paper with extracts from Mr. Mulock’s (his name always reminds me of Muley Moloch of Morocco) ‘Atheism answered,’ in which there is a long eulogium of my poesy, and a great ‘compatimento’ for my misery.  I never could understand what they mean by accusing me of irreligion.  However, they may have it their own way.  This gentleman seems to be my great admirer, so I take what he says in good part, as he evidently intends kindness, to which I can’t accuse myself of being invincible.

     “Yours,” &c.

* * * * *

LETTER 360.  TO MR. MURRAY.

     “Ravenna, March 5. 1820.