able by itself. Well, when Keats came, I scarce felt a change from
Catullus: both such fiery Souls as wore out their Bodies early; and I can
even imagine Keats writing such filthy Libels against any one he had a
spite against, even Armitage Brown, had Keats lived two thousand years
ago. . . .

I had a kind letter lately from Mr. Norton: and have just posted him some
Carlyle letters about that Squire business. If you return to America
before very long you will find them there. How long is your official
Stay in Spain? Limited, or Unlimited? By the bye of Carlyle, I heard
from his Niece some weeks ago that he had been poorly: but when she
wrote, himself again: only taking his daily walk in a Carriage, and
sitting up till past Midnight with his Books, in spite of Warnings to
Bed. As old Voltaire said to his Niece on like occasion, 'Qu'est ce que
cela fait si je m'amuse?' I have from Mudie a sensible dull Book of
Letters from a Miss Wynn: with this one good thing in it. She has been
to visit Carlyle in 1845: he has just been to visit Bishop Thirlwall in
Wales, and duly attended Morning Chapel, as a Bishop's Guest should. 'It
was very well done; it was like so many Souls pouring in through all the
Doors to offer their orisons to God who sent them on Earth. We were no
longer Men, and had nothing to do with Men's usages; and, after it was
over, all those Souls seemed to disperse again silent into Space. And
not till we all met afterward in the common Room, came the Human
Greetings and Civilities.' {237} This is, I think, a little piece worth
sending to Madrid; I am sure, the best I have to offer.

I have had read to me of nights some of Sir Walter's Scotch Novels;
Waverley, Rob, Midlothian, now the Antiquary: eking them out as charily
as I may. For I feel, in parting with each, as parting with an old
Friend whom I may never see again. Plenty of dull, and even some bad, I
know: but parts so admirable, and the Whole so delightful. It is
wonderful how he sows the seed of his Story from the very beginning, and
in what seems barren ground: but all comes up in due course, and there is
the whole beautiful Story at last. I think all this Fore-cast is to be
read in Scott's shrewd, humorous, Face: as one sees it in Chantrey's
Bust; and as he seems meditating on his Edinburgh Monument. I feel a
wish to see that, and Abbotsford again; taking a look at Dunbar by the
way: but I suppose I shall get no further than Dunwich.