To you, ungrateful as you are, it will seem worthless.
Ever yours T.B.M.
To Hannah M.Macaulay.
Smoking-Room of the House of Commons June 6, 1833.
My Darling,--Why am I such a fool as to write to a gypsey at Liverpool, who fancies that none is so good as she if she sends one letter for my three?
A lazy chit whose fingers tire with penning a page in reply to a quire! There, Miss, you read all the first sentence of my epistle, and never knew that you were reading verse.

I have some gossip for you about the Edinburgh Review.

Napier is in London, and has called on me several times.

He has been with the publishers, who tell him that the sale is falling off; and in many private parties, where he hears sad complaints.
The universal cry is that the long dull articles are the ruin of the Review.

As to myself, he assures me that my articles are the only things which keep the work up at all.