of its grossest corruptions. I own I think meanly of French poetry, but by no means undervalue many of the writers of it, it is of the poverty of the materials which the French language furnishes /for poetry/ of which I complain. For many other species of composition I am fond of the language I once, I forget where, wrote something against the character of French Versification 2 and had immediately sent me by Mons^r. Dutems^[2] work vol^s. of the Poetry of Jean Baptiste Rousseau, in which are some fine Religious Odes. ^[3]

I shall expect at least half a dozen Epistles, not as fair barter but as liberal commerce, for this long and I fear hardly intelligible scrawl. Besides telling me what you read, and who you see, you are still surrounded by a society (but oh how thinned) whom I know and love, while those about me are unknown to you, and would excite little interest were it not so. When you write pray mention how Robert Grant is. He gave us two pleasant days some weeks ago but was not quite well.

We both write in kindest respects to M^r. and M^rs [superscript needs to be checked here] Inglis and in love to dear Henry Lucy Watson and all the young things. Pray tell Etta that Louise goes to school by day, and talks of Articles and Pronouns, and [unclear] and [unclear], and [unclear] and [unclear], with much of her profound learning Your kind present of M^r. Croker’s History^[4] she can nearly repeat all the Stories, and if she could help it woud read no other book, except indeed Black Giles and Tawney Rachel ^[5]