My dear Frederic, I hope to see you one day: I really do look forward one day to go and see you in Italy, as well as to see you here in England. I know no one whom it would give me more pleasure to think of as one who might perhaps be near me as we both go down the hill together, whether in Italy or England. You, Spedding, Thackeray, and only one or two more. The rest have come like shadows and so departed. _To G. Crabbe_. [_Feb_. 27, 1852.] MY DEAR GEORGE, . . . I rejoice in your telling me what you think; or I should rejoice if these books were of importance enough to require honest advice. I think you may be very right about the length of the Preface; {273} that I do not think you right about the reasoning of it you may suppose by my ever printing it. It is to show _why_ Books of that kind are dull: what sort of writers ought to be quoted, etc.; proverbial writers: and what constitutes proverbiality, etc. Well, enough of it all: I am glad you like it on the whole. As to Euphranor I do wish him not to die yet: and am gratified you think him worthy to survive a little longer. That is a good cause, let my treatment of it be as it will. I and Drew sat up at your Father's till 3 (a.m.) last Tuesday: at the old affair of Calvinism, etc. It amuses them: else one would think it odd they did not see how they keep on fighting with Shadows, and slaying the slain. I am really going next week from home, towards that famous expedition to Shropshire {274} which I mean to perform one day. I write after walking to Woodbridge: and hear that Mr. Cana has called in my absence to announce that 'the Hall' is let; to a Mr. Cobbold, from Saxmundham, I think, who has a farm at Sutton. I met Tom (_young_ Tom) Churchyard in Woodbridge, who tells me he is going to America on Monday! He makes less fuss about it than I do about going to Shropshire. HAM, _June_ 2/52. MY DEAR GEORGE, . . . Order into your Book Club 'Trench on the Study of Words'; a delightful, good, book, not at all dry (unless to fools); one I am sure you will like. Price but three and sixpence and well worth a guinea at least. In spite of my anti-London prejudices, I find this Limb of London (for such it is) very beautiful: the Thames with its Swans upon it, and its wooded sides garnished with the Villas of Poets, Wits, and Courtiers, of a Time which (I am sorry to say) has more charms to me than the Middle Ages, or the Heroic. I have seen scarce any of the living London Wits; Spedding and Donne most: Thackeray but twice for a few minutes. He finished his Novel {275} last Saturday and is gone, I believe, to the Continent. _To F. Tennyson_. GOLDINGTON, BEDFORD, _June_ 8/52. MY DEAR FREDERIC,