P.S. Oh! _your Poem_--is it out? I hope Longman has paid his thousands;
but don't you do as H---- T----'s father did, who, having, made money by a
quarto tour, became a vinegar merchant; when, lo! his vinegar turned sweet
(and be d----d to it) and ruined him. My last letter to you (from Verona)
was inclosed to Murray--have you got it? Direct to me _here, poste
restante_. There are no English here at present. There were several in
Switzerland--some women; but, except Lady Dalrymple Hamilton, most of them
as ugly as virtue--at least those that I saw."


AT VENICE.

_To Mr. Moore._

"Venice, December 24th, 1816.

"I have taken a fit of writing to you, which portends postage--once from
Verona--once from Venice, and again from Venice--_thrice_ that is. For
this you may thank yourself, for I heard that you complained of my
silence--so here goes for garrulity.

"I trust that you received my other twain of letters. My 'way of life' (or
'May of life,' which is it, according to the commentators?)--my 'way of
life' is fallen into great regularity. In the mornings I go over in my
gondola to hobble Armenian with the friars of the convent of St. Lazarus,
and to help one of them in correcting the English of an English and
Armenian grammar which he is publishing. In the evenings I do one of many
nothings--either at the theatres, or some of the conversaziones, which are
like our routs, or rather worse, for the women sit in a semicircle by the