work of mine? If you thought my poems trash, you might have said so; but to allow them during your editorship to be passed by with affected neglect, excited more observations among literary men than I choose to repeat. However, there were those, both in my own country and abroad, that treated me in a far nobler manner.
“While I am thus venting a manly, but not ill-tempered statement, I must add another proof of your feelings, which reached me from one who was present—though at the time, I knew too well what was due to myself to notice it. When one of the committee proposed me as a member for the ‘Literary Union,’ you rose up and said I had tried to pass myself off for Mr. James Montgomery. The fact I deny with unutterable contempt, and am sorry that the author of the ‘Pleasures of Hope,’ could have condescended to have done himself such injustice, the word was the statement you made. No one is more ready than myself to acknowledge the beauty of Mr. James Montgomery’s writings, but I never wanted his name, nor envied him his reputation, and I would sooner let—
‘The flesh-fly blow in my mouth,’ |
“With every courteous wish, I remain &c. &c.
