I have heard some hints of your retiring to Scotland--I should like to know your feeling on it--it seems rather remote. Perhaps Gleig will have a duty near you. I am not certain whether I shall be able to go any journey, on account of my Brother Tom, and a little indisposition of my own. If I do not you shall see me soon, if _no_ on my return or I'll quarter myself on you next winter. I had known my sister-in-law some time before she was my sister, and was very fond of her. I like her better and better. She is the most disinterested woman I ever knew--that is to say, she goes beyond degree in it. To see an entirely disinterested girl quite happy is the most pleasant and extraordinary thing in the world--It depends upon a thousand circumstances--On my word it is extraordinary. Women must want Imagination, and they may thank God for it; and so may we, that a delicate being can feel happy without any sense of crime. It puzzles me, and I have no sort of logic to comfort me--I shall think it over. I am not at home, and your letter being there I cannot look it over to answer any particular--only I must say I feel that passage of Dante. If I take any book with me it shall be those minute volumes of Carey, for they will go into the aptest corner. Reynolds is getting, I may say, robust, his illness has been of service to him--like every one just recovered, he is high-spirited--I hear also good accounts of Rice. With respect to domestic literature, the Edinburgh Magazine, in another blow-up against Hunt, calls me "the amiable Mister Keats"--and I have more than a laurel from the Quarterly Reviewers for they have smothered me in "Foliage." I want to read you my "Pot of Basil"--if you go to Scotland, I should much like to read it there to you, among the snows of next winter. My Brothers' remembrances to you. Your affectionate friend JOHN KEATS. LV.--TO JOHN TAYLOR. [Hampstead,] Sunday Evening [June 21, 1818].