ppears she
did; and you discern a relation between her and him. I find plenty of
grave humour in this Book: in the Spinster, the Bachelor, the Widow, etc.
All which I pointed out (in the still-born) to L. S. . . . He says too
that Crabbe is 'incapable of Epigram,' which also you do not agree in;
Epigrams more of Humour than Wit; sometimes only hinted, as in those two
last lines of that disagreeable, and rather incomprehensible Sir Owen
Dale. I think he will do in the land of Cervantes still.

When my Copy of Tennyson's Lover's Tale comes home I will send it to you.
. . . As to Gray--Ah, to think of that little Elegy inscribed among the
Stars, while ---, --- & Co., are blazing away with their Fireworks here
below. I always think that there is more Genius in most of the three
volume Novels than in Gray: but by the most exquisite Taste, and
indefatigable lubrication, he made of his own few thoughts, and many of
other men's, a something which we all love to keep ever about us. {270} I
do not think his scarcity of work was from Design: he had but a little to
say, I believe, and took his time to say it. . . .

Only think of old Carlyle, who was very feeble indeed during the winter,
having read through all Shakespeare to himself during these latter Spring
months. So his Niece writes me. I do not hear of his doing the like by
his Goethe.

I had another shot at your Hawthorne, a Man of fifty times Gray's Genius,
but I could not take to him. Painfully microscopic and elaborate on
dismal subjects, I still thought: but I am quite ready to admit that (as
in Goethe's case) the fault lies in me. I think I have a good feeling
for such things; but 'non omnia possumus, etc.;' some Screw loose. 'C'est
egal.' That is a serviceable word for so much.

Now have I any more that turns up for this wonderful Letter? I should
put it in, for I do think it might amuse you in Madrid. But nothing does
turn up this Evening. Tea, and a Walk on our River bank, and then, what
do you think? An hour's reading (to me) of a very celebrated Murder
which I remember just thirty years ago at Norwich: then 'Ten minutes'
Refreshment'; and then, Nicholas Nickleby! Then one Pipe: and then to
Bed. Yours sincerely,

E. F. G.

This Letter shall sleep a night too before Travelling. Next Morning.
Revenons a notre Crabbe. 'Principles and Pew' very bad. 'The Flowers,
etc., cut by busy hands, etc.,' are, or were, common on the leaden roofs
of old