"You may say what you please, but you are one of the _murderers_ of
Blackett, and yet you won't allow Harry White's genius. Setting
aside his bigotry, he surely ranks next Chatterton. It is
astonishing how little he was known; and at Cambridge no one
thought or heard of such a man till his death rendered all notice
useless. For my own part, I should have been most proud of such an
acquaintance: his very prejudices were respectable. There is a
sucking epic poet at Granta, a Mr. Townsend, _protégé_ of the late
Cumberland. Did you ever hear of him and his 'Armageddon?' I think
his plan (the man I don't know) borders on the sublime: though,
perhaps, the anticipation of the 'Last Day' (according to you
Nazarenes) is a little too daring: at least, it looks like telling
the Lord what he is to do, and might remind an ill-natured person
of the line,

'And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'

But I don't mean to cavil, only other folks will, and he may bring
all the lambs of Jacob Behmen about his ears. However, I hope he
will bring it to a conclusion, though Milton is in his way.

"Write to me--I dote on gossip--and make a bow to Ju--, and shake
George by the hand for me; but, take care, for he has a sad sea
paw.

"P.S. I would ask George here, but I don't know how to amuse
him--all my horses were sold when I left England, and I have not
had time to replace them. Nevertheless, if he will come down and
shoot in September, he will be very welcome: but he must bring a