do you make in your hymns? What Review are you connected with? If with
any, why do you delay to notice White's book? You are justly offended at
its profaneness; but surely you have undervalued its _wit_, or you would
have been more loud in its praises. Do not you think that in _Slender's_
death and madness there is most exquisite humour, mingled with
tenderness, that is irresistible, truly Shakspearian? Be more full in
your mention of it. Poor fellow, he has (very undeservedly) lost by it;
nor do I see that it is likely ever to reimburse him the charge of
printing, etc. Give it a lift, if you can. I suppose you know that
Allen's wife is dead, and he, just situated as he was, never the better,
as the worldly people say, for her death, her money with her children
being taken off his hands. I am just now wondering whether you will ever
come to town again, Coleridge; 'tis among the things I dare not hope,
but can't help wishing. For myself, I can live in the midst of town
luxury and superfluity, and not long for them, and I can't see why your
children might not hereafter do the same. Remember, you are not in
Arcadia when you are in the west of England, and they may catch
infection from the world without visiting the metropolis. But you seem
to have set your heart upon this same cottage plan; and God prosper you
in the experiment! I am at a loss for more to write about; so 'tis as
well that I am arrived at the bottom of my paper.

God love you, Coleridge!--Our best loves and tenderest wishes await on
you, your Sara, and your little one.

C. L.

[Bowles's poem was "Hope, an allegorical sketch on slowly recovering
from sickness." See note on pages 78 and 79.