ext January, (but this is _entre nous only_, and pray let it be so,
or my maternal persecutor will be throwing her tomahawk at any of my
curious projects,) I am going to _sea_ for four or five months, with
my cousin Capt. Bettesworth, who commands the Tartar, the finest
frigate in the navy. I have seen most scenes, and wish to look at a
naval life. We are going probably to the Mediterranean, or to the West
Indies, or--to the d----l; and if there is a possibility of taking me to
the latter, Bettesworth will do it; for he has received four and
twenty wounds in different places, and at this moment possesses a
letter from the late Lord Nelson, stating Bettesworth as the only
officer in the navy who had more wounds than himself.

"I have got a new friend, the finest in the world, a _tame bear_.
When I brought him here, they asked me what I meant to do with him,
and my reply was, 'he should _sit for a fellowship_.' Sherard
will explain the meaning of the sentence, if it is ambiguous. This
answer delighted them not. We have several parties here, and this
evening a large assortment of jockeys, gamblers, boxers, authors,
parsons, and poets, sup with me,--a precious mixture, but they go on
well together; and for me, I am a _spice_ of every thing except a
jockey; by the by, I was dismounted again the other day.

Thank your brother in my name for his treatise. I have written 214
pages of a novel,--one poem of 380 lines,[78] to be published (without
my name) in a few weeks, with notes,--560 lines of Bosworth Field, and
250 lines of another poem in rhyme, besides half a dozen smaller
pieces. The poem to be published is a Satire. _Apropos_, I have been
praised to the skies in the Critical Review,[79] and abused greatly in
another publication.[80] So much the better, they tell me, for the
sale of the book: it keeps up controversy, and prevents it being
forgotten. Besides, the first men of all ages have had their share,
nor do the humblest escape;--so I bear it like a philosopher. It is
odd two opposite critiques came out on the same day, and out of five
pages of abuse, my censor only quotes _two lines_ from different
poems, in support of his opinion. Now, the proper way to _cut up_, is
to quote long passages, and make them appear absurd, because simple
allegation is no proof. On the other hand, there are seven pages of
praise, and more than _my modesty_ will allow, said on the subject.
Adieu.

"P.S. Write, write, write!!!"

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