I don't know what has come over me of late, that I have not written to
you, nor any body else for several months. I am sure it is not from any
decrease of affection towards you. I now begin a letter merely on the
score of wanting one from you: to let me know how you are; and Mrs. Allen
too, especially. I hope to hear good news of her. Many things may have
happened to you since I saw you: you may be a Bishop, for anything I
know. I have been in Suffolk ever since I saw you. We are come to
settle at this place: and I have been enjoying capital health in my old
native air. I meant to have come to London for the winter: but my
sisters are here, and I do not like to leave them. This parish is a very
small one: it scarce contains fifty people: but that next to it,
Bredfield, has more than four hundred: and some very poor indeed. We
hope to be of some use: but the new Poor Laws have begun to be set afoot,
and we don't know who is to stop in his cottage, or who is to go to the
Workhouse. How much depends upon the issue of this measure! I am no
politician: but I fear that no political measure will ever adjust matters
well between rich and poor. . . .
I have just read Southey's Life of Cowper; that is to say, the first
Volume. It is not a book to be read by every man at the fall of the
leaf. It is a fearful book. Have you read it? Southey hits hard at
Newton in the dark; which will give offence to many people: but I
perfectly agree with him. At the same time, I think that Newton was a
man of great power. Did you ever read his life by himself? Pray do, if
you have not. His journal to his wife, written at sea, contains some of
the most beautiful things I ever read: fine feeling in very fine English.
. . .
Pray do write to me: a few lines soon are better than a three-decker a
month hence: for I really want to know where and how you are: and so be a
good boy for once in your life. Ever yours lovingly,