estions of Criticism, as one wants to be finally
done in all Cases, so as to have no more about and about it. I think I
could have suggested a little Alteration in the matter of this Crabbe,
whom I probably am better up in than L. S., though I certainly could not
write about it as he does. Also, one word about _Clarissa_. Almost all
the rest of the two Volumes I accept as a Disciple. {119a}

Another Book of the kind--Lowell's 'Among my Books,' is excellent also:
perhaps with more _Genius_ than Stephen: but on the other hand not so
temperate, judicious, or scholarly in _taste_. It was Professor Norton
who sent me Lowell's Second Series; and, if you should--(as you
inevitably will, though in danger of losing the Ship) answer this Letter,
pray tell me if you know how Professor Norton is--in health, I mean. You
told me he was very delicate: and I am tempted to think he may be less
well than usual, as he has not acknowledged the receipt of a Volume
{119b} I sent him with some of Wordsworth's Letters in it, which he had
wished to see. The Volume did not need Acknowledgment absolutely: but
probably would not have been received without by so amiable and polite a
Man, if he [were] not out of sorts. I should really be glad to hear that
he has only forgotten, or neglected, to write.

Mr. Lowell's Ode {120a} in your last Magazine seemed to me full of fine
Thought; but it wanted Wings. I mean it kept too much to one Level,
though a high Level, for Lyric Poetry, as Ode is supposed to be: both in
respect to Thought, and Metre. Even Wordsworth (least musical of men)
changed his Flight to better purpose in his Ode to Immortality. Perhaps,
however, Mr. Lowell's subject did not require, or admit, such
Alternations.

Your last Gossip brought me back to London--but what Street I cannot make
sure of--but one Room in whatever Street it were, where I remember your
Mr. Wade, who took his Defeat at the Theatre so bravely. {120b} And your
John, in Spain with the Archbishop of Dublin: and coming home full of
Torrijos: and singing to me and Thackeray one day in Russell Street:
{120c}

{Music score for Si un Elio conspiro alevo. . .: p120.jpg}

All which comes to me west of the waves and just within the sound: and is
to travel so much farther Westward over an Expanse of Rollers such as we
see not in this Herring-pond. Still, it is--The Sea.

Now then Farewell, dear Mrs. Kemble. You will let me know when you get
to Dublin? I will