and the effect of which is to throw together on the same level and in the same light, things of likeness and unlikeness—­till the reader grows confused as I did, and takes one for another.  I may say however, in a poor justice to myself, that I wrote what I wrote so unfortunately, through reverence for you, and not at all from vanity in my own account ... although I do feel palpably while I write these words here and now, that I might as well leave them unwritten; for that no man of the world who ever lived in the world (not even you) could be expected to believe them, though said, sung, and sworn.

For the rest, it is scarcely an apposite moment for you to talk, even ‘dramatically,’ of my ‘superiority’ to you, ... unless you mean, which perhaps you do mean, my superiority in simplicity—­and, verily, to some of the ‘adorable ingenuousness,’ sacred to the shade of Simpson, I may put in a modest claim, ... ‘and have my claim allowed.’  ’Pray do not mock me’ I quote again from your Shakespeare to you who are a dramatic poet; ... and I will admit anything that you like, (being humble just now)—­even that I did not know you.  I was certainly innocent of the knowledge of the ‘ice and cold water’ you introduce me to, and am only just shaking my head, as Flush would, after a first wholesome plunge.  Well—­if I do not know you, I shall learn, I suppose, in time.  I am ready to try humbly to learn—­and I may perhaps—­if you are not done in Sanscrit, which is too hard for me, ... notwithstanding that I had the pleasure yesterday to hear, from America, of my profound skill in ’various languages less known than Hebrew’!—­a liberal paraphrase on Mr. Horne’s large fancies on the like subject, and a satisfactory reputation in itself—­as long as it is not necessary to deserve it.  So I here enclose to you your letter back again, as you wisely desire; although you never could doubt, I hope, for a moment, of its safety with me in the completest of senses:  and then, from the heights of my superior ... stultity, and other qualities of the like order, ...  I venture to advise you ... however (to speak of the letter critically, and as the dramatic composition it is) it is to be admitted to be very beautiful, and well worthy of the rest of its kin in the portfolio, ...  ‘Lays of the Poets,’ or otherwise, ...  I venture to advise you to burn it at once.  And then, my dear friend, I ask you (having some claim) to burn at the same time the letter I was fortunate enough to write to you on Friday, and this present one—­don’t send them back to me; I hate to have letters sent back—­but burn them for me and never mind Mephistopheles.  After which friendly turn, you will do me the one last kindness of forgetting all this exquisite nonsense, and of refraining from mentioning it, by breath or pen, to me or another.  Now I trust you so far:—­you will put it with the date of the battle of Waterloo—­and I, with every date in chronology; seeing that I can