Though my letter bears such frontispiece as the above, {209} I am no
longer in Bedford, but come to Cambridge. And here I sit in the same
rooms {210a} in which I sat as a smooth-chinned Freshman twenty years
ago. The same prints hang on the walls: my old hostess {210b} does not
look older than she did then. My present purpose is to be about a week
here: then to go for a day or two to Bury, to see Donne; and then to move
homewards. It is now getting very cold, and the time for wandering is
over.
Why do you not send me your new Poem? Or is it too big to send as a
letter? Or shall I buy it? which I shall be glad to do. . . .
All the preceding was written four days ago: cut short by the sudden
entrance of Moore, whom I have been lionizing ever since. He goes away
to London to-day. . . .
Moore is delighted with a Titian and Giorgione at the Fitzwilliam. I
have just left him to feed upon them at his ease there, while I indite a
letter to you.
_To W. B. Donne_.
[31 _Oct_. 1846.]