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draught of a doorway. I too am metamorphosed—a young oman here in Bed hampton has over persuaded me to wear my shirt collar up to my eyes. Mrs. Snook I catch smoaking it every now and then and I believe Brown does but I cannot now look sideways. Brown wants to scribble more so I will finish with a marginal note-Viz. Remember me to Wentworth Place and Elm Cottage-not forgetting Millamaut—

Your's if possible

J. Keats

This is abominable! I did but go up stairs to put on a clean & starched handkerchief, & that overweening rogue read my letter & scrawled over one of my sheets, and given him a counterpain,-I wish I could blank it s k

all over and beat him with a certain rod, & have a fresh one bolstered up, Ah! he may dress me as he

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likes but he shan't tickle me pillow the feathers,—I would not give a tester for such puns, let us ope brown ferratum a large B-a Bumble B.) will go no further in the Bedroom & not call Mat Snook a relation to Mattrass- This is grown to a conclusion-I had excellent puns in my head but one bad one from Brown has quite upset me but I am quite set-up for more, but I'm content to be conqueror. Your's in love,

Cha. Brown.

N.B. I beg leaf [sic] to withdraw all my Puns-they

are all wash, an base uns.

LXXXIV.

To GEORGE AND GEORGIANA KEATS.

My dear Brother and Sister,

[1818-19.]

You will have been prepared, before this reaches you, for the worst news you could have, nay, if Haslam's letter arrived in proper time, I have a consolation in thinking the first shock will be passed before you receive this. The last days of poor Tom were of the most distressing nature; but his last moments were not so painful, and his very last was without a pang. I will not enter into any parsonic comments on death. Yet the commonest observations of the commonest people on death are true as their proverbs. I have a firm belief in immortality, and so had Tom.

During poor Tom's illness I was not able to write, and since his death the task of beginning has been a hindrance Within this last week I have been everywhere, and I will tell you, as nearly as possible, how I go on. I am going to domesticate with Brown, that is, we shall

to me.

Lord Houghton places the following paragraph before this letter :"The journal-letters to his brother and sister in America are the best records of his outer existence. I give them in their simplicity, being assured that thus they are best. They are full of a genial life which will be understood and valued by all to whom a book of this nature presents any interest whatever: and, when it is remembered how carelessly they are written, how little the writer ever dreamt of their being redeemed from the far West or exposed to any other eyes than those of the most familiar affection, they become a mirror in which the individual character is shown with indisputable truth, and from which the fairest judgment of his very self can be drawn." I presume this instalment belongs to December 1818 and January 1819.

keep house together. I shall have the front-parlour, and he the back one, by which I shall avoid the noise of Bentley's children, and be able to go on with my studies, which have been greatly interrupted lately, so that I have not the shadow of an idea of a book in my head, and my pen seems to have grown gouty for verse. How are you going on now? The going on of the world makes me dizzy. There you are with Birkbeck, here I am with Brown; sometimes I imagine an immense separation, and sometimes, as at present, a direct communication of spirit with you. That will be one of the grandeurs of immortality. There will be no space, and consequently the only commerce between spirits will be by their intelligence of each other-when they will completely understand each other, while we, in this world, merely comprehend each other in different degrees; the higher the degree of good, so higher is our Love and Friendship. I have been so little used to writing lately that I am afraid you will not smoke my meaning, so I will give you an example. Suppose Brown, or Haslam, or any one else, whom I understand in the next degree to what I do you, were in America, they would be so much the further from me in proportion as their identity was less impressed upon me. Now the reason why I do not feel, at the present moment, so far from you, is that I remember your ways, and manners, and actions; I know your manner of thinking, your manner of feeling; I know what shape your joy or your sorrow would take; I know the manner of your walking, standing, sauntering, sitting down, laughing, punning, and every action, so truly that you seem near to me. You will remember me in the

'Lord Houghton gives the word more in this place; but less must clearly be what Keats meant to write.

same manner, and the more when I tell you that I shall read a page of Shakspeare every Sunday at ten o'clock; you read one at the same time, and we shall be as near each other as blind bodies can be in the same room.

Thursday. This morning is very fine. What are you doing this morning? Have you a clear hard frost, as we have? How do you come on with the gun? Have you shot a Buffalo? Have you met with any Pheasants? My thoughts are very frequently in a foreign country. I live more out of England than in it. The mountains of Tartary are a favorite lounge, if I happen to miss the Alleghany ridge, or have no whim for Savoy. There must be great pleasure in pursuing game-pointing your gun-no, it won't do-now-no-rabbit it-now, bangsmoke and feathers-where is it? Shall you be able to get a good pointer or so? Now I am not addressing myself to G. minor-and yet I am, for you are one. Have you some warm furs? By your next letter I shall expect to hear exactly how you get on; smother nothing; let us have all-fair and foul-all plain. Will the little bairn have made his entrance before you have this? Kiss it for me, and when it can first know a cheese from a caterpillar show it my picture twice a week. You will be glad to hear that Gifford's attack upon me has done me service-it has got my book among several sets, nor must I forget to mention, once more, what I suppose Haslam has told you, the present of a 257. note I had anonymously sent me. Another pleasing circumstance I may mention, on the authority of Mr. Neville, to whom I had sent a copy of "Endymion." It was lying on his cousin's table, where it had been seen by one of the Misses Porter, (of Romance celebrity,) who expressed a wish to read it; after having dipped into it, in a day or two she returned it, accompanied by the following letter:

Dear Sir,

As my brother is sending a messenger to Esher, I cannot but make the same the bearer of my regrets for not having had the pleasure of seeing you the morning you called at the gate. I had given orders to be denied, I was so very unwell with my still adhesive cold; but had I known it was you, I should have taken off the interdict for a few minutes, to say how very much I am. delighted with "Endymion." I had just finished the poem, and have now done as you permitted, lent it to Miss Fitzgerald.

I regret you are not personally acquainted with the author, for I should have been happy to have acknowledged to him, through the advantage of your communication, the very rare delight my sister and myself have enjoyed from this first fruits of his genius. I hope the ill-natured review will not have damped such true Parnassian fire. It ought not, for when life is granted to the possessor, it always burns its brilliant way through every obstacle. Had Chatterton possessed sufficient manliness of mind to know the magnanimity of patience, and been aware that great talents have a commission from heaven, he would not have deserted his post, and his name might have paged with Milton.

Ever much yours,
Jane Porter.

Ditton Cottage, Dec. 4, 1818.

To H. Neville, Esq., Esher.

Now I feel more obliged than flattered by this-so obliged that I will not, at present, give you an extravaganza of a Lady Romance. I will be introduced to them. first, if it be merely for the pleasure of writing you about them. Hunt has asked me to meet Tom Moore, so you shall hear of him also some day.

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