To Rev. William Ware.
SHEFFIELD, July 3, 1851.
DEAR GWYLLYM (is n't that Welsh for William?)--I don't know whether
your letter with nothing in it, and the postage paid on the contents,
is on the way to me; but I am writing to all my friends, to celebrate
the Independence-day of friendship and to help the revenue, and not to
write to you would be lese-majesty to love and law.
Is it not a distinct mark higher up on the scale of civilization,--this
cheap postage? The easier transmission of produce is accounted such a
mark,--much more the easier transmission of thought.
Transmission, indeed! When I had got so far, I was called away to
direct Mr. P. about the sink. And do you know what directing a man is,
in the country? Why, it is to do half the work yourself, and to take
all the responsibility. And, in consequence of Mr. P., you won't get a
bit better letter than you proposed to send.
Where's your book? What are you doing? What do you think of your Miss
Martineau now? Is n't the Seven Gables a subtile matter, both in
thought and style?
Have n't I said the truth about the much preaching? Some of the clergy,
I perceive, say with heat that [223] preaching is not cold and dull.
Better let the laity testify.
There is Mr. P. again.
Yours ever,