ain to finish this letter the New Year will have dawned--on
some of us. 'Thou fool! this night thy soul may be required of thee!'
Very well: while it is in this Body I will wish my dear old F. T. a happy
New Year. And now to drum out the Old with Handel. Good Night.

New Year's Day, 1851. A happy new Year to you! I sat up with my Parson
till the Old Year was past, drinking punch and smoking cigars, for which
I endure some headache this morning. Not that we took much; but a very
little punch disagrees with me. Only I would not disappoint my old
friend's convivial expectations. He is one of those happy men who has
the boy's heart throbbing and trembling under the snows of sixty-five.

_To G. Crabbe_.

[GELDESTONE, _Feb_. 11, 1851.]

MY DEAR GEORGE,

I send you an Euphranor, and (as you desire it) Spedding's Examiner.
{266} I believe that I should be ashamed of his praise, if I did not
desire to take any means to make my little book known for a good purpose.
I think he over-praises it: but he cannot over-praise the design, and (as
I believe) the tendency of it.

60 LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS,
[_Feb_. 27, 1851.]

MY DEAR GEORGE,

. . . My heart saddens to think of Bramford all desolate; {267a} and I
shall now almost turn my head away as any road, or railroad, brings me
within sight of the little spire! I write once a week to abuse both of
them for going. But they are quite happy at Oxford.

I felt a sort of horror when I read in your letter you had ordered the
Book {267b} into your Club, for fear some one might guess. But if _your_
folks don't guess, no one else will. I have heard no more of it since I
wrote to you last, except that its sale does not stand still. Pickering's
foreman blundered in the Advertisements; quoting an extract about the use
of the Book, when he should have quoted about its amusement, which is
what the world is attracted by. But I left it to him. As it would be a
real horror to me to be known as the writer, I do not think I can have
much personal ambition in its success; but I should sincerely wish it to
be read for what little benefit it may do. . . .

I have seen scarce anybody here: Thackeray only once; neither Tennyson
nor Carlyle. Donne came up for a day to see as to the morality of the
'Prodigal Son' {268} at Drury Lane, which the Bishop of London complained
of. Donne is deputy Licenser for Jack Kemble. I went to see it with
him; it was only stupid and gaudy.

BOULGE,