indeed if you were obliged to confine your genius to the dull regularity of a fiddler--horse hair and cat's guts--no, let him keep _your_ time and play _your_ tune--_dodge him_." I will now copy out the Letter and Sonnet I have spoken of. The outside cover was thus directed, "Messrs. Taylor and Hessey, (Booksellers), No. 93 Fleet Street, London," and it contained this: 'Messrs. Taylor and Hessey are requested to forward the enclosed letter by some _safe_ mode of conveyance to the Author of Endymion, who is not known at Teignmouth: or if they have not his address, they will return the letter by post, directed as below, within a _fortnight_, "Mr. P. Fenbank, P. O., Teignmouth." 9th Novr. 1818.' In this sheet was enclosed the following, with a superscription--'Mr. John Keats, Teignmouth.' Then came Sonnet to John Keats--which I would not copy for any in the world but you--who know that I scout "mild light and loveliness" or any such nonsense in myself. Star of high promise!--not to this dark age Do thy mild light and loveliness belong; For it is blind, intolerant, and wrong; Dead to empyreal soarings, and the rage Of scoffing spirits bitter war doth wage With all that bold integrity of song. Yet thy clear beam shall shine through ages strong To ripest times a light and heritage. And there breathe now who dote upon thy fame, Whom thy wild numbers wrap beyond their being, Who love the freedom of thy lays--their aim Above the scope of a dull tribe unseeing-- And there is one whose hand will never scant From his poor store of fruits all _thou_ canst want. November 1818. turn over. I turn'd over and found a L25 note. Now this appears to me all very proper--if I had refused it I should have behaved in a very bragadochio dunderheaded manner--and yet the present galls me a little, and I do not know whether I shall not return it if I ever meet with the donor after, whom to no purpose I have written. I have your Miniature on the Table George the great--it's very like--though not quite about the upper lip. I wish we had a better of your little George. I must not forget to tell you that a few days since I went with Dilke a shooting on the heath and shot a Tomtit. There were as many guns abroad as Birds. I intended to have been at Chichester this Wednesday--but on account of this sore throat I wrote him (Brown) my excuse yesterday. Thursday [December 31].