e first Canto (a long one, of about 180 octaves)
of a poem in the style and manner of 'Beppo', encouraged by the
good success of the same. It is called 'Don Juan', and is meant to
be a little quietly facetious upon every thing. But I doubt whether
it is not--at least, as far as it has yet gone--too free for these
very modest days. However, I shall try the experiment, anonymously,
and if it don't take, it will be discontinued. It is dedicated to S
* * in good, simple, savage verse, upon the * * * *'s politics, and
the way he got them. But the bore of copying it out is intolerable;
and if I had an amanuensis he would be of no use, as my writing is
so difficult to decipher.

"My poem's Epic, and is meant to be
Divided in twelve books, each book containing
With love and war, a heavy gale at sea--
A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning--
New characters, &c. &c.

The above are two stanzas, which I send you as a brick of my Babel,
and by which you can judge of the texture of the structure.

"In writing the Life of Sheridan, never mind the angry lies of the
humbug Whigs. Recollect that he was an Irishman and a clever
fellow, and that we have had some very pleasant days with him.
Don't forget that he was at school at Harrow, where, in my time, we
used to show his name--R.B. Sheridan, 1765,--as an honour to the
walls. Remember * *. Depend upon it that there were worse folks
going, of that gang, than ever Sheridan was.

"What did Parr mean by 'haughtiness and coldness?' I listened to
him with admiring ignorance, and respectful silence. What more
could a talker for fame have?--they don't like to be answered. It
was at Payne Knight's I met him, where he gave me more Greek than I
could carry away. But I certainly meant to (and _did_) treat him
with the most respectful deference.

"I wish you a good night, with a Venetian benediction, 'Benedetto
te, e la terra che ti fara!'--'May you be blessed, and the _earth_
which you will _make_!'--is it not pretty? You would think it
still prettier if you had heard it, as I did two hours ago, from
the lips of a Venetian girl, with large black eyes, a face like
Faustina's, and the figure of a Juno--tall and energetic as a
Pythoness, with eyes flashing, and her dark hair streaming in th