“My dear Milman,—I have been, and shall be while the East wind lasts, plagued ever and anon with a complaint which unnerves me, so that I don’t know when we may meet. I fear you have worse distresses at home—but it is long since I heard anything of your household.
“I must now think, in spite of all maladies and misfortunes, of the shop. Can you do anything for me this time? I don’t think anything you gave me has been better liked than the Arundines Cami, and I say so in hopes that you may snatch a morning or two for something of an unfatiguing sort. Yet I have nothing to suggest. What say you to Wordsworth’s new volume? I fear the tragedy is very dull, and can see but little to admire in the rest—except some very fine feeling verses about Burns. Campbell’s new concern I have not seen, nor have I heard either it or the other mentioned by any one. That it should be come to this!—Ever yours,
