And so forth: the same half-amused spirit of penitence is expressed in a letter of a few weeks later to his brother George: and later still he came to look back, with a smile of manly self-derision, on those days as a time when he had been content to play the part of 'A pet-lamb in a sentimental farce.' FOOTNOTES: [1] Another account says Mitchell. [2] In _The Asclepiad_, April 1884. [3] Houghton MSS. [4] Le Grand: _Fabliaux ou Contes, 1781_. G. L. Way: _Fabliaux or Tales_, London, 1800; 2nd ed. 1815. See Appendix I. [5] This note-book is in the collection bequeathed by the late Sir Charles Dilke to the public library at Hampstead. [6] In a review of Keats's first book written the next year (_Examiner_, July 9, 1817) Hunt says that when he printed the 'Solitude' sonnet he knew no more of Keats than of any other anonymous correspondent: but this probably only means that he had not yet met Keats personally. [7] Putting day-break in early October at a little before six, there would have been fully time enough for Keats to walk to the Poultry, composing as he went, and to commit his draft to paper and send it to Clerkenwell by ten o'clock. The longer walk to and from the Borough, had the date been a year earlier, would have made the feat more difficult. Moreover the feat itself becomes less of a miracle when we recognize it as performed not at the end of the poet's twentieth year but at the end of his twenty first. But in view of Keats's own explicit dating of the piece, the point seems to need no labouring: or else it might be pointed out that if Clarke had really introduced him to Chapman in October 1815 Chapman would assuredly not have been left out of the list of masters whom he quotes as having known through Clarke in his epistle of the following August quoted above (pp. 37, 38). [8] Both Byron and Barry Cornwall have expressed their sense of contrast between certain vulgarities of Hunt's diction and his personal good breeding. Byron before their quarrel declared emphatically that he was 'not a vulgar man'; and Barry Cornwall, admitting that he 'indulged himself occasionally in pet words, some of which struck me as almost approaching to the vulgar,' goes on to say that 'he was essentially a gentleman in conduct, in demeanour, in manner, in his consideration for others,' and to praise him for his 'great fund of positive active kindness,' his freedom from all irritable vanity, his pleasure and liberality in praising (Bryan Walter Procter, _An Autobiographical Fragment_, 1877, pp. 197-200).