"Old Woman of Berkeley" comes next; in some humours I would give it the
preference above any. But who the devil is Matthew of Westminster? You
are as familiar with these antiquated monastics, as Swedenborg, or, as
his followers affect to call him, the Baron, with his invisibles. But
you have raised a very comic effect out of the true narrative of Matthew
of Westminster. 'Tis surprising with how little addition you have been
able to convert with so little alteration his incidents, meant for
terror, into circumstances and food for the spleen. The Parody is _not_
so successful; it has one famous line indeed, which conveys the finest
death-bed image I ever met with:

"The doctor whisper'd the nurse, and the surgeon knew what he said."

But the offering the bride three times bears not the slightest analogy
or proportion to the fiendish noises three times heard! In "Jaspar," the
circumstance of the great light is very affecting. But I had heard you
mention it before. The "Rose" is the only insipid piece in the volume;
it hath neither thorns nor sweetness, and, besides, sets all chronology
and probability at defiance.

"Cousin Margaret," you know, I like. The allusions to the "Pilgrim's
Progress" are particularly happy, and harmonise tacitly and delicately
with old cousins and aunts. To familiar faces we do associate familiar
scenes and accustomed objects; but what hath Apollidon and his
sea-nymphs to do in these affairs? Apollyon I could have borne, though
he stands for the devil; but who is Apollidon? I think you are too apt
to conclude faintly, with some cold moral, as in the end of the poem
called "The Victory"--

"Be thou her comforter, who art the widow's friend;"