review of Coleridge in the _Quarterly_ the other day. The parts which are not Coleridge's own might have been better, but they are well enough. The spring of 1835 was memorable at Mirehouse for a visit of Tennyson and FitzGerald. That this made a vivid impression on FitzGerald is evident from a letter which he wrote after Spedding's death to his niece, when there was some idea of gathering together his miscellaneous essays: "I rejoice," he says, "to hear of a Collection, or Reprint, of his stray works.... I used to say he wrote 'Virgilian Prose.' One only of his I did not care for; but that, I doubt not, was because of the subject, not of the treatment: his own printed Report of a Speech he made in what was called the 'Quinquaginta Club' Debating Society (not the Union) at Cambridge about the year 1831. This speech his Father got him to recall and recompose in Print; wishing always that his Son should turn his faculties to such public Topics rather than to the Poets, of whom he had seen enough in Cumberland not to have much regard for: Shelley for one, at one time stalking about the mountains with Pistols, and other such Vagaries. I do not think he was much an admirer of Wordsworth (I don't know about Southey), and I well remember that when I was at M_e_rehouse (as Miss Bristowe would have us call it), with A. Tennyson in 1835, Mr. Spedding grudged his Son's giving up much time and thought to consultations about Morte d'Arthur's, Lords of Burleigh, etc., which were then in MS. He more than once questioned me, who was sometimes present at the meetings, 'Well, Mr. F., and what is it? Mr. Tennyson reads, and Jem criticizes:--is that it?' etc. This, while I might be playing Chess with dear Mrs. Spedding, in May, while the Daffodils were dancing outside the Hall door." "At the end of May," he writes to Mrs. Kemble, "we went to lodge for a week at Windermere--where Wordsworth's new volume of _Yarrow Revisited_ reached us. W. was then at his home, but Tennyson would not go to visit him: and of course I did not: nor even saw him." In the summer of 1835 Thompson spent the Long Vacation at the Lakes, and Spedding was engaged in securing lodgings for him and his pupils, while Tennyson was still at Mirehouse. "I am going," he writes, "with Alfred, I believe, to Buttermere, and so have not time to tell you how much I am rejoiced that your destiny should have dragged you hither--nor to discuss the London Review--nor to tell you about Fitz and Alfred Tennyson, and Hartley Coleridge, and W. W., etc., only that Alfred is very gruff and unmanageable, and the weather very cold. He desires to be remembered. Fitz is gone." A few days later he says: