friend to man all his life, and has been since his death.--Very good--but, my dear Fellow, I must let you know that, as there is ever the same quantity of matter constituting this habitable globe--as the ocean notwithstanding the enormous changes and revolutions taking place in some or other of its demesnes--notwithstanding Waterspouts whirlpools and mighty rivers emptying themselves into it--still is made up of the same bulk, nor ever varies the number of its atoms--and as a certain bulk of water was instituted at the creation--so very likely a certain portion of intellect was spun forth into the thin air, for the brains of man to prey upon it. You will see my drift without any unnecessary parenthesis. That which is contained in the Pacific could not lie in the hollow of the Caspian--that which was in Milton's head could not find room in Charles the Second's--He like a Moon attracted intellect to its flow--it has not ebbed yet, but has left the shore-pebbles all bare--I mean all Bucks, Authors of Hengist, and Castlereaghs of the present day; who without Milton's gormandising might have been all wise men--Now forasmuch as I was very predisposed to a country I had heard you speak so highly of, I took particular notice of everything during my journey, and have bought some folio asses' skins for memorandums. I have seen everything but the wind--and that, they say, becomes visible by taking a dose of acorns, or sleeping one night in a hog-trough, with your tail to the Sow Sow-West. Some of the little Bar-maids look'd at me as if I knew Jem Rice.... Well, I can't tell! I hope you are showing poor Reynolds the way to get well. Send me a good account of him, and if I can, I'll send you one of Tom--Oh! for a day and all well! I went yesterday to Dawlish fair. Over the Hill and over the Dale, And over the Bourne to Dawlish, Where ginger-bread wives have a scanty sale, And ginger-bread nuts are smallish, etc. etc. Tom's remembrances and mine to you all. Your sincere friend JOHN KEATS. XLVI.--TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS. [Teignmouth, March 25, 1818.] My dear Reynolds--In hopes of cheering you through a Minute or two, I was determined will he nill he to send you some lines, so you will excuse the unconnected subject and careless verse. You know, I am sure, Claude's Enchanted Castle,[56] and I wish you may be pleased with my remembrance of it. The Rain is come on again--I think with me Devonshire stands a very poor chance. I shall damn it up hill and down dale, if it keep up to the average of six fine days in three weeks. Let me have better news of you. Tom's remembrances to you. Remember us to all. Your affectionate friend, JOHN KEATS.