Mama desires me to thank you very sincerely, my dear Sir William, for your kindness in so soon & so carefully returning her letter. There is no end to Mr. Dundas's talent for blundering, but this mistake could not have happened to any one in whose honour (honour is rather too grand a word for the occasion) in whose gentlemanliness my Mother would place more implicit confidence. The letter will now pursue its destination Northward instead of Westward under the auspices of Mr. Fyshe Palmer--I shall not send my epistle to him--for fear of another blunder--the good Town of Reading would be very sorry if its Members yielded to the County M.P's in any quality whatsoever--& in that of puzzlepatedness ("though Mr. P is my friend") I don't think they do.--What were we talking about in my last letter? Of my journey to Oxfordshire?--But I did not go--Luckily I had in my engagement put in a saving clause about the weather--You who know the qualities of our horse --his admirable slowness--his delightful knack of standing stilland ride may imagine what his performance would be in the wet up a hill which we flat-country folks call a mountain--So it was good enough to rain & I escaped. People may say what they will about the uncertainty of our English climate, but I think for my part one may always be tolerably certain of a little rain. My escape was greater even than I thought--there were 35, Godfathers Godmothers & others--a bed broke down, & a table--the very house cracked under the weight of its burthen--& if I had been there they would have laid it all to me--Papa would have declared it was all my fatness--indeed it is almost as bad as it is--for the friend who wrote me this account finished the paragraph by saying "You being away, my dear, we cannot understand how these things can have happened."--Only see my dear Friend how they use me! So you are really ! I mean to do the same myself that I may have the satisfaction & honour of fighting under your banners & helping to knock down that buckram hero Mr. Edgar Mandlebert. I suspect that poor dear Mrs. Dickinson is not very much obliged either to your complaisance or mine on this score--for I certainly & you probably read not to be convinced which you know never happens (vide ) but to find fault--& next to reading with an undivided & enthusiastic admiration such as I feel for the you for & both of us for --next to that absorbing delight the greatest pleasure in reading is to be critical & fastidious, & laugh at, & pull to pieces. Whether this be wise or not, I cannot tell--both the child & the botanist are amused in pullpicking off the leaves of the flowers to come at the internal structure--& perhaps the younger philosopher who performs this operation from the mere instinct of mischief is as happy--that is as wise--as the graver and elder demolisher. I am no scientific puller to pieces at all events--though lately I have almost wished myself a reviewer to vent my grievances at a quantity of maudlin Travels I have been reading--Walks in Switzerland--Autumns near the Rhine--Picturesque Tours--Visits to La Trappe countless others names forgotten--Don't you think there ought to be a high duty on this importation of nonsense in these times of financial difficulty? Though very likely a tax of that sort would not catch them--these travels are perhaps all written at home--but to me there is a real grievance in having the bloom brushed from the grape--in disenchanting the Dulcineas of one's imagination--in cutting asunder the fine links by which great names are united to local objects--in turning that which should be a vision & a dram, into dull & flat reality--making Meillerie as common as old Brentford & laying Vaucluse as open as Hounslow Heath. I have a good mind not to read another book of Travels till Dr. Clarke's next Volume. Apropos to Dr. Clarke--his name is Edward Daniell--so he was not your preacher.--The pleasantest very pleasant account of foreign countries I meant to mention to you--did I? --written by a lady--She lets one quite into the interior of those inaccessible places Seraglios Harems & so forth--Lady M. W. Montague herself was less learned in fair fatimas & slippers & sashes & handkerchiefs & caftans & all the mysteries of a Turkish toilette--besides this womanish knowledge there is a vast deal of knowledge not womanish--& an account of the Bashaw's family which but for the misfortune of its being true would pass for one of the finest tragic narratives in the world. In short if you are not alarmed at the size of the book you will find it to say the least a great deal more entertaining than .--Before I have done with literature I must ask if you have seen an imitation of your part icular favorite Mr. Wordsworth called ?--He--the real Mr. Wordsworth had announced a ditty so called--& some wicked wit much of your mind with regard to that great Poet--came out a week before him with this parody by anticipation--I only saw it the other day for five minutes but I thought it extremely clever particularly an Epitaph on Mr. Wordsworth--which I don't quite recollect but which was to this effect

--I am not sure of any part of these lines being quite right except the rhymes--but you will agree with me that they are not to be forgotten.--I saw too a very clever tory squib from a little book called the --there are several very good things in it--but that which struck me particularly was the Trial of Henry Brougham for Mutiny--Nothing can be more laughable. Now you must write to me very soon--& find fault with & tell me that you found your family all well--& if you should be at a loss for a subject send me a description of Bickham. I want very much to know all about it.--Adieu my dear Friend--Papa is in London--Mama sends her kindest remembrances--