'I have lately had a long bad cold, such as reduces one to trash and slops, novels and barley water, and amongst the books my friends kindly sent me to while away time was the first volume of one puffed in the newspaper, "The Last Man", by the authoress of "Frankenstein". I would not trouble them for any more of it, but really there were sentences in it so far exceeding those Don Quixote ran mad in trying to comprehend, that I could not help copying out a few of them; they would have turned Feliciano de Silva's own brains. [LS then quotes passages beginning "Her eyes were impenetrably deep" and "The overflowing warmth of her heart"...] Since the wonderful improvement that somebody who shall be nameless, together with Miss Edgeworth and one or two more, have made in novels, I imagined such stuff as this had not ventured to show its head, though I remember plenty of it in the days of my youth. So for old acquaintance-sake I give it welcome. But if the boys and girls begin afresh to take it for sublime and beautiful, it ought to get a rap and be put down'.