I send herewith a poem of Miss Barrett[37] which came with the letters you sent me. She sent _three_ others, and promises more in a very pleasant letter. I shall send on quite a budget of prose, I hope, soon, but cannot use my eyes much. I am going to answer an article on the copyright question by O’Sullivan in the forthcoming _Democratic Review_. I must see proofs of Miss Barrett and all my own pieces.... I must not write any more or I shall not get home these six months. January 22.... My dear, good, kindest, best friend, you know that I would not write a word that should knowingly pain your loving heart. So forgive whatever there has been in my other letters to trouble, and only reflect how anxious I must naturally feel, away from home as I am, and left a great part of the time to the solitude of my own thoughts by the total deprivation of the use of my eyes. Willis is under Dr. E.’s care also, and yesterday introduced himself to me, and said all manner of kind things. He had meant to write to me, giving me his experience in editing, and had long been anxious to know me, &c., &c. This morning he came and took me to church with him, and altogether overwhelms me with attention. His wife is a very _nice_ pretty little Englishwoman, with a very sweet voice. W. said he wrote the notice in the _Jonathan_ as the most judicious way of helping the magazine, giving your own philosophic theory as to its possible results.... January 24.... I _must_ write an article for the next number, and yet I do not see very well how I am to do it. For I can scarcely get through one letter without pain, and everything that I write retards my case and so keeps me the longer here. But I love Keats so much that I think I can write something good about him. Willis continues very kind, and I begin to think that he really likes me. At least he said the same to Dr. E. about me that he told me to my face. He told the Dr. (I copy it the more readily that I know it will delight _you_) that I had written the most remarkable poem that had been written in this country, and that I was destined to be the brightest star that had yet risen in American literature. He told me, also, that I was more popular and more talked about and read at this time than any other poet in the land, and he is going (or was) to write an article in the _Jonathan_ to that effect. These things _you must keep in your own heart_. He promises to help the _Pioneer_ in every way he can, and he will be able to do us a great deal of good, as he has last week taken half the ownership of the _Jonathan_ on condition of solely editing it. He talks of paying me to write letters for him from Boston....