suit you; and how does it happen that I—­who am a pipkin of the same pottery—­continue in your good graces?  Good night,—­I will go on in the morning.

“Dec. 9th.  In a morning, I’m always sullen, and to-day is as sombre as myself.  Rain and mist are worse than a sirocco, particularly in a beef-eating and beer-drinking country.  My bookseller, Cawthorne, has just left me, and tells me, with a most important face, that he is in treaty for a novel of Madame D’Arblay’s, for which 1000 guineas are asked!  He wants me to read the MS. (if he obtains it), which I shall do with pleasure; but I should be very cautious in venturing an opinion on her whose Cecilia Dr. Johnson superintended.[36] If he lends it to me, I shall put it into the hands of Rogers and M * * e, who are truly men of taste.  I have filled the sheet, and beg your pardon; I will not do it again.  I shall, perhaps, write again, but if not, believe, silent or scribbling, that I am, my dearest William, ever,” &c.

[Footnote 35:  The brother of his late friend, Charles Skinner Matthews.]

[Footnote 36:  Lord Byron is here mistaken.  Dr. Johnson never saw Cecilia till it was in print.  A day or two before publication, the young authoress, as I understand, sent three copies to the three persons who had the best claim to them,—­her father, Mrs. Thrale, and Dr. Johnson.—­Second edition.]

* * * * *

LETTER 79.  TO MR. HODGSON.

     “London, Dec. 8. 1811.

     “I sent you a sad Tale of Three Friars the other day, and now take
     a dose in another style.  I wrote it a day or two ago, on hearing a
     song of former days.

        “Away, away, ye notes of woe[37], &c. &c.

“I have gotten a book by Sir W. Drummond, (printed, but not published,) entitled Oedipus Judaicus, in which he attempts to prove the greater part of the Old Testament an allegory, particularly Genesis and Joshua.  He professes himself a theist in the preface, and handles the literal interpretation very roughly.  I wish you could see it.  Mr. W * * has lent it me, and I confess, to me it is worth fifty Watsons.

“You and Harness must fix on the time for your visit to Newstead; I can command mine at your wish, unless any thing particular occurs in the interim.  Bland dines with me on Tuesday to meet Moore.  Coleridge has attacked the ‘Pleasures of Hope,’ and all other pleasures whatsoever.  Mr. Rogers was present, and heard himself indirectly rowed by the lecturer.  We are going in a party to hear the new Art of Poetry by this reformed schismatic; and were I one of these poetical luminaries, or of sufficient consequence to be noticed by the man of lectures, I should not hear him without an answer.  For you know, ‘an’ a man will be beaten with brains, he shall never keep a clean doublet.’