Scope and Contents Thanking him for a letter and saying he enjoys hearing about Edward doing well at school. Asking Edward to send 50 lines of his translation of Homer into heptameter verse, which Edward’s father had told him about, and advising him on Lord Derby’s translation. He is glad that Edward likes literature as “it may lead you into learned Gentlemen’s society”.Telling Edward that he is glad that he had spent his Easter holiday in London, and discussing some of the people he would have met...

Scope and Contents Sent from Great Yarmouth on Caleb’s own birthday (79th), confessing to feeling very depressed from 3 nights of lack of sleep. Dr Vores was visiting regularly but they were all “baffled”. Asking Edward to tell his father.Telling Edward that he was planning to go to London on Monday and to see his father at Ipswich; that he was glad Edward enjoyed his visit to London and would soon know all about the great lawyers as he did about the Knights of the Buskin; that Mrs Henry Collison...

Scope and Contents With an envelope. Sent to Edgehill House, Anglesea Road, Ipswich, from Great Yarmouth. Stating he was pleased to find Edward’s letter on his return, and hoped he had success with his productions as he had before, although ‘Westminster Abbey’ came to nothing. Asking why he had chosen Eurydice as his subject, and whether he had been reading Midas. Recalling a song from an opera which began with “When Eurydice went down to the regions below, to set his Eurydice free, He tuned up his lyre...

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With an envelope. Sent to Edgehill House, Anglesea Road, Ipswich, from Great Yarmouth.
Inviting Edward to stay for his holidays, and telling him he had considered but rejected the idea of inviting “young Cormack” as he was too young and “fond of having his own way” to be a good companion to Edward. Requesting that Edward bring some of his productions for him to critique, though he might think his grandfather too old fashioned and “of the Richardson school”.

Scope and Contents The poem reads:The holidays are o’er,Oh dear! What a bore,To the idle, the stupid, and dull.No gaiety, no fun,No plumpudding, nor bun,Oh cricay, it is a sad mull.Hic hac hoccries the clock,Run, run every boy to his class.Don’t be so very fast,Bawls the boy that is last,Or I shall be dub’d a lazy ass.The masters all readyCry steady boys steady,At your desks be docile and mum.Be ready with your...