of the
poems I did not like; but that is quite a genuine mould of your soul; and
there are heaps of single lines, couplets, and stanzas, which would
consume all the ---, ---, and ---, like stubble. N.B. An acute man
would ask how I should like _you_, if I do not like your own genuine
reflex of _you_? But a less acute, and an acuter, man, will feel or see
the difference.

So here is a good sheet full; and at all events, if I am too lazy to
travel to you, I am not too lazy to write such a letter as few of one's
contemporaries will now take the pains to write to one. I beg you to
remember me to all your noble family, and believe me yours ever,

EDW. FITZGERALD.

_To W. B. Donne_.

BOULGE, Sunday, _March_ 8/46.

MY DEAR DONNE,

I was very sorry you did not come to us at Geldestone. I have been home
now near a fortnight; else I would gladly have gone to Mattishall with
you yesterday. This very Sunday, on which I now hear the Grundisburgh
bells as I write, I might have been filled with the bread of Life from
Padden's hands.

Our friend Barton is certainly one of the most remarkable men of the Age.
After writing to Peel two separate Sonnets, begging him to retire to
Tamworth and not alter the Corn Laws, he finally sends him another letter
to ask if he will be present at Lord Northampton's soiree next Saturday;
Barton himself being about to go to that soiree, and wishing to see the
Premier. On which Peel writes him a most good humoured note asking him
to dine at Whitehall Gardens on that same Saturday! And the good Barton
is going up for that purpose. {203} All this is great simplicity in
Barton: and really announces an internal Faith that is creditable to this
Age, and almost unexpected in it. I had advised him not to send Peel
many more Sonnets till the Corn Law was passed; the Indian war arranged;
and Oregon settled: but Barton sees no dragon in the way.

We have actors now at Woodbridge. A Mr. Gill who was low comedian in the
Norwich now manages a troop of his own here. His wife was a Miss Vining;
she is a pretty woman, and a lively pleasant actress, not vulgar. I have
been to see some of the old comedies with great pleasure; and last night
I sat in a pigeon-hole with David Fisher and 'revolved many memories' of
old days and old plays. I don't think he drinks so much now: but he
looks all ready to blossom out into carbuncles.

We all liked your Athenaeum address much; {204a} which I believe I told