very glad to see his former Patron.  He is nearly my height, very thin, very fair complexion, dark eyes, and light locks.  My opinion of his mind you already know;—­I hope I shall never have occasion to change it.  Every body here conceives me to be an invalid.  The University at present is very gay from the fetes of divers kinds.  I supped out last night, but eat (or ate) nothing, sipped a bottle of claret, went to bed at two, and rose at eight.  I have commenced early rising, and find it agrees with me.  The Masters and the Fellows all very polite, but look a little askance—­don’t much admire lampoons—­truth always disagreeable.

“Write, and tell me how the inhabitants of your Menagerie go on, and if my publication goes off well:  do the quadrupeds growl?  Apropos, my bull-dog is deceased—­’Flesh both of cur and man is grass.’  Address your answer to Cambridge.  If I am gone, it will be forwarded.  Sad news just arrived—­Russians beat—­a bad set, eat nothing but oil, consequently must melt before a hard fire.  I get awkward in my academic habiliments for want of practice.  Got up in a window to hear the oratorio at St. Mary’s, popped down in the middle of the Messiah, tore a woeful rent in the back of my best black silk gown, and damaged an egregious pair of breeches.  Mem.—­never tumbled from a church window during service.  Adieu, dear ——! do not remember me to any body:—­to forget and be forgotten by the people of Southwell is all I aspire to.”

LETTER 14.

TO MISS ——.

“Trin.  Coll.  Camb.  July 5. 1807.

“Since my last letter I have determined to reside another year at Granta, as my rooms, &c. &c. are finished in great style, several old friends come up again, and many new acquaintances made; consequently my inclination leads me forward, and I shall return to college in October if still alive.  My life here has been one continued routine of dissipation—­out at different places every day, engaged to more dinners, &c. &c. than my stay would permit me to fulfil.  At this moment I write with a bottle of claret in my head and tears in my eyes; for I have just parted with my ‘Cornelian,’ who spent the evening with me.  As it was our last interview, I postponed my engagement to devote the hours of the Sabbath to friendship:—­Edleston and I have separated for the present, and my mind is a chaos of hope and sorrow.  To-morrow I set out for London:  you will address your answer to ’Gordon’s Hotel, Albemarle Street,’ where I sojourn during my visit to the metropolis.