Read it through once

The publication of this book afforded the Doctor a very good excuse for prolonging his stay in the metropolis, for he could now plead that his daughter’s welfare as an author demanded it. That he did exert himself in her behalf is certain, for we find her sending him “ten thousand thanks for the management of the Reviews,” although “I am sadly afraid of not being noticed in the _Edinburgh_, the volume is so trifling.” This was followed by a further “ten thousand thanks for your attention to my commissions, and, above all, for the books,” in which was included Crabbe’s poem, _The Borough_, just published, and which drew from Miss Mitford the exuberant statement “it is a rich treat ... with all the finish and accuracy of the Dutch painters,” while, “in the midst of my delight, I feel a sort of unspeakable humiliation, much like what a farthing candle (if it could feel) would experience when the sun rises in all his glory and extinguishes its feeble rays.” Miss Mitford was an impulsive creature, and in three days’ time, after she had had an opportunity of thoroughly digesting _The Borough_, she wrote:—“Crabbe’s poem is too long and contains too gloomy a picture of the world. This is real life, perhaps; but a little poetical fairyland, something to love and admire, is absolutely necessary as a relief to the feelings, among his long list of follies and crimes. Excepting one poor girl weeping over the grave of her lover, there is not one chaste female through the whole book. This is shocking, is it not, my darling? I dare say he is some _crabbed_ old bachelor, and deserves to be tossed in a blanket for his contempt of the sex.” It was shocking of the critic too, for, ignoring her atrocious pun on the poet’s name, she made a very bad guess in quoting him as a bachelor, seeing that, as was well known, he was not only a happy father, but very fond of the society of the ladies.