I was proposing to travel over the North this summer. There is but one thing to prevent me.--I know nothing--I have read nothing--and I mean to follow Solomon's directions, "Get learning--get understanding." I find earlier days are gone by--I find that I can have no enjoyment in the world but continual drinking of knowledge. I find there is no worthy pursuit but the idea of doing some good for the world--Some do it with their Society--some with their wit--some with their benevolence--some with a sort of power of conferring pleasure and good-humour on all they meet--and in a thousand ways, all dutiful to the command of great Nature--there is but one way for me. The road lies through application, study, and thought.--I will pursue it; and for that end, purpose retiring for some years. I have been hovering for some time between an exquisite sense of the luxurious, and a love for philosophy,--were I calculated for the former, I should be glad. But as I am not, I shall turn all my soul to the latter.--My brother Tom is getting better, and I hope I shall see both him and Reynolds better before I retire from the world. I shall see you soon, and have some talk about what Books I shall take with me. Your very sincere friend JOHN KEATS. Pray remember me to Hessey Woodhouse and Percy Street. LI.--TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS. Teignmouth, April 27, 1818. My dear Reynolds--It is an awful while since you have heard from me--I hope I may not be punished, when I see you well, and so anxious as you always are for me, with the remembrance of my so seldom writing when you were so horribly confined. The most unhappy hours in our lives are those in which we recollect times past to our own blushing--If we are immortal that must be the Hell. If I must be immortal, I hope it will be after having taken a little of "that watery labyrinth" in order to forget some of my school-boy days and others since those.