never in the least noticed to or by myself, but evidenced to my surprise,
by the following passage in a note to Mr. Wade.


"My very dear Friend,

... Mr. Cottle has ever conducted himself towards me with unbounded
kindness, and one unkind act, no, nor twenty, can obliterate the grateful
remembrance of it. By indolence, and frequent breach of promise, I had
deserved a severe reproof from him, although my present brain-crazing
circumstances, rendered this an improper time for it....

S. T. C."


I continued to see Mr. Coleridge every day, and occasionally said to him,
smiling, "Well, how much copy;" "None, to day," was the general reply,
"but to-morrow you shall have some." To-morrow produced, if any, perhaps
a dozen lines; and, in a favourable state of mind, so much, it might be,
as half a dozen pages: and here I think I can correctly state, that Mr.
C. had repeated to me at different times nearly all the poems contained
in his volume, except the "Religious Musings," which I understood to be
wholly a new poem. It may amuse the reader to receive one or two more of
Mr. C.'s little apologies.


"My dear Friend,

The Printer may depend on copy by to-morrow.