not think you right about the reasoning of it you may suppose by my ever
printing it. It is to show _why_ Books of that kind are dull: what sort
of writers ought to be quoted, etc.; proverbial writers: and what
constitutes proverbiality, etc. Well, enough of it all: I am glad you
like it on the whole. As to Euphranor I do wish him not to die yet: and
am gratified you think him worthy to survive a little longer. That is a
good cause, let my treatment of it be as it will.

I and Drew sat up at your Father's till 3 (a.m.) last Tuesday: at the old
affair of Calvinism, etc. It amuses them: else one would think it odd
they did not see how they keep on fighting with Shadows, and slaying the
slain.

I am really going next week from home, towards that famous expedition to
Shropshire {274} which I mean to perform one day. I write after walking
to Woodbridge: and hear that Mr. Cana has called in my absence to
announce that 'the Hall' is let; to a Mr. Cobbold, from Saxmundham, I
think, who has a farm at Sutton. I met Tom (_young_ Tom) Churchyard in
Woodbridge, who tells me he is going to America on Monday! He makes less
fuss about it than I do about going to Shropshire.

HAM, _June_ 2/52.

MY DEAR GEORGE,

. . . Order into your Book Club 'Trench on the Study of Words'; a
delightful, good, book, not at all dry (unless to fools); one I am sure
you will like. Price but three and sixpence and well worth a guinea at
least.

In spite of my anti-London prejudices, I find this Limb of London (for
such it is) very beautiful: the Thames with its Swans upon it, and its
wooded sides garnished with the Villas of Poets, Wits, and Courtiers, of
a Time which (I am sorry to say) has more charms to me than the Middle
Ages, or the Heroic.

I have seen scarce any of the living London Wits; Spedding and Donne
most: Thackeray but twice for a few minutes. He finished his Novel {275}
last Saturday and is gone, I believe, to the Continent.

_To F. Tennyson_.

GOLDINGTON, BEDFORD,
_June_ 8/52.

MY DEAR FREDERIC,

It gave me, as always, the greatest pleasure to hear from you. Your
letter found me at my Mother's house, at Ham, close to Richmond; a really
lovely place, and neighbourhood, though I say it who am all prejudiced
against London and 'all the purtenances thereof.' But the copious woods,
green meadows, the Thames and its swans gliding between, and so many
villas and cheerful houses and terraced gardens with all their
associ