otherwise: If I scribble long letters I must play my vagaries--I must be too heavy, or too light, for whole pages--I must be quaint and free of Tropes and figures--I must play my draughts as I please, and for my advantage and your erudition, crown a white with a black, or a black with a white, and move into black or white, far and near as I please--I must go from Hazlitt to Patmore, and make Wordsworth and Coleman play at leap-frog, or keep one of them down a whole half-holiday at fly-the-garter--"From Gray to Gay, from Little to Shakspeare." Also as a long cause requires two or more sittings of the Court, so a long letter will require two or more sittings of the Breech, wherefore I shall resume after dinner-- Have you not seen a Gull, an orc, a Sea-Mew, or anything to bring this Line to a proper length, and also fill up this clear part; that like the Gull I may _dip_[65]--I hope, not out of sight--and also, like a Gull, I hope to be lucky in a good-sized fish--This crossing a letter is not without its association--for chequer-work leads us naturally to a Milkmaid, a Milkmaid to Hogarth, Hogarth to Shakspeare--Shakspeare to Hazlitt--Hazlitt to Shakspeare--and thus by merely pulling an apron-string we set a pretty peal of Chimes at work--Let them chime on while, with your patience, I will return to Wordsworth--whether or no he has an extended vision or a circumscribed grandeur--whether he is an eagle in his nest or on the wing--And to be more explicit and to show you how tall I stand by the giant, I will put down a simile of human life as far as I now perceive it; that is, to the point to which I say we both have arrived at--Well--I compare human life to a large Mansion of Many apartments, two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest being as yet shut upon me--The first we step into we call the infant or thoughtless Chamber, in which we remain as long as we do not think--We remain there a long while, and notwithstanding the doors of the second Chamber remain wide open, showing a bright appearance, we care not to hasten to it; but are at length imperceptibly impelled by the awakening of the thinking principle within us--we no sooner get into the second Chamber, which I shall call the Chamber of Maiden-Thought, than we become intoxicated with the light and the atmosphere, we see nothing but pleasant wonders, and think of delaying there for ever in delight: However among the effects this breathing is father of is that tremendous one of sharpening one's vision into the heart and nature of Man--of convincing one's nerves that the world is full of Misery and Heartbreak, Pain, Sickness, and oppression--whereby this Chamber of Maiden Thought becomes gradually darkened, and at the same time, on all sides of it, many doors are set open--but all dark--all leading to dark passages--We see not the balance of good and evil--we are in a mist--we are now in that state--We feel the "burden of the Mystery."