will have mended its Manners by 3. From the Wharf are seen the shores on each side stretching to the Isle of Wight. You, Haydon, Reynolds, etc. have been pushing each other out of my Brain by turns. I have conned over every Head in Haydon's Picture--you must warn them not to be afraid should my Ghost visit them on Wednesday--tell Haydon to Kiss his Hand at Betty over the Way for me yea and to spy at her for me. I hope one of you will be competent to take part in a Trio while I am away--you need only aggravate your voices a little and mind not to speak Cues and all--when you have said Rum-ti-ti--you must not be rum any more or else another will take up the ti-ti alone and then he might be taken God shield us for little better than a Titmouse. By the by talking of Titmouse Remember me particularly to all my Friends--give my Love to the Miss Reynoldses and to Fanny who I hope you will soon see. Write to me soon about them all--and you George particularly how you get on with Wilkinson's plan. What could I have done without my Plaid? I don't feel inclined to write any more at present for I feel rather muzzy--you must be content with this fac simile of the rough plan of Aunt Dinah's Counterpane. Your most affectionate Brother JOHN KEATS. Reynolds shall hear from me soon. VIII.--TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS. Carisbrooke, April 17th [1817]. My dear Reynolds--Ever since I wrote to my Brothers from Southampton I have been in a taking--and at this moment I am about to become settled--for I have unpacked my books, put them into a snug corner, pinned up Haydon, Mary Queen of Scots, and Milton with his daughters in a row. In the passage I found a head of Shakspeare which I had not before seen. It is most likely the same that George spoke so well of, for I like it extremely. Well--this head I have hung over my Books, just above the three in a row, having first discarded a French Ambassador--now this alone is a good morning's work. Yesterday I went to Shanklin, which occasioned a great debate in my mind whether I should live there or at Carisbrooke. Shanklin is a most beautiful place--Sloping wood and meadow ground reach round the Chine, which is a cleft between the Cliffs of the depth of nearly 300 feet at least. This cleft is filled with trees and bushes in the narrow part, and as it widens becomes bare, if it were not for primroses on one side, which spread to the very verge of the Sea, and some fishermen's huts on the other, perched midway in the Balustrades of beautiful green Hedges along their steps down to the sands. But the sea, Jack, the sea--the little waterfall--then the white cliff--then St. Catherine's Hill--"the sheep in the meadows, the cows in the corn." Then, why are you at Carisbrooke? say you. Because, in the first place, I should be at twice the Expense, and three times the inconvenience--next that from here I can see your continent--from a little hill close by the whole north Angle of the Isle of Wight, with the water between us.