Dramas. I do not think an old man could or would have written it. But it's some sma' hours agit the twale, and I must adjourn.
Dear Derwent, I am almost ashamed to confess that more than a week has elapsed since I wrote the above, to which I have not a great deal to add; tho' I could write a magazine sheet. I believe I have not mentioned Derwent Junior. His accident was awkward and distressing; but will not, I trust, leave any permanent lameness. His Master, Kennedy, was an unsuccessful Candidate for Rugby. Since our own father was taken from us, I do not think England, her Church, or the world have had so great a loss as in Arnold.1 I never knew any man--no not one--to whom I would so readily have surrendered my private judgement, because, though I have known men who possessed certain faculties in much higher perfection, I never knew a mind all whose faculties were so equally developed; a reason so perfectly in harmony with a pure Christian faith, interpenetrating and informing, so acute an understanding, commanding and enlivening an equally energetic will. Men as honest in regard to the world, I may have known; perhaps of equal integrity, objectively and relatively under yet more trying circumstances; but I never knew a man of like compass of thought and logical expertness who dealt so fairly and sincerely with his own intellect, thinking, as he spoke and acted 'as ever in his great task master's eye'.
Here I will pause for the present. Perhaps in a day or two I may send a supplement to this already two penny epistle.
With kind regards to Mary,
I am Dear Derwent,
[Signature cut away.]
To MRS. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, No. 10 Chester Place, Regent's Park, London.
Knabbe, Jan. 28, [Postmark 1843.]
My dear Mother
A brief note from James inform'd me this day of the sad event, which Mary's letter of the preceding day had told me to expect.2 Yet I could not give up all hope till I saw the____________________