hink. If you or Mr. Lowell
would like to have a Copy, I can send you one, through Quaritch, if not
per Post: I have the Letters separately bound up from another Copy of
long ago. There is also a favorable account of a meeting between
Wordsworth and Foscolo in an otherwise rather valueless Memoir of Bewick
the Painter. I tell you of all this Wordsworth, because you have, I
think, a more religious regard for him than we on this side the water: he
is not so much honoured in his own Country, I mean, his Poetry. I, for
one, feel all his lofty aspiration, and occasional Inspiration, but I
cannot say that, on the whole, he makes much of it; his little pastoral
pieces seem to me his best: less than a Quarter of him. But I may be
wrong.

I am very much obliged to you for wishing me to see Mr. Ticknor's Life,
etc. I hope to make sure of that through our Briareus-handed Mudie; and
have marked the Book for my next Order. For I suppose that it finds its
way to English Publishers, or Librarians. I remember his Spanish
Literature coming out, and being for a long time in the hands of my
friend Professor Cowell, who taught me what I know of Spanish. Only a
week ago I began my dear Don Quixote over again; as welcome and fresh as
the Flowers of May. The Second Part is my favorite, in spite of what
Lamb and Coleridge (I think) say; when, as old Hallam says, Cervantes has
fallen in Love with the Hero whom he began by ridiculing. When this
Letter is done I shall get out into my Garden with him, Sunday though it
be.

We have also Memoirs of Godwin, very dry, I think; indeed with very
little worth reading, except two or three Letters of dear Charles Lamb,
'Saint Charles,' as Thackeray once called him, while looking at one of
his half-mad Letters, and remember[ing] his Devotion to that quite mad
Sister. I must say I think his Letters infinitely better than his
Essays; and Patmore says his Conversation, when just enough animated by
Gin and Water, was better than either: which I believe too. Procter said
he was far beyond the Coleridges, Wordsworths, Southeys, etc. And I am
afraid I believe that also.

I am afraid too this is a long letter nearly [all] about my own Likes and
Dislikes. 'The Great Twalmley's.' {198} But I began only thinking about
Wordsworth. Pray do believe that I do not wish you to write unless you
care to answer on that score. And now for the Garden and the Don: always
in a common old Spanish Edition. Their