species of delirium, and in pain too much for thought. It is now past: as I hope. But the moment I got ease of body began pain of mind, and that not a small one. It is about the name of the child, which certainly ought to be Thomas, after Mrs. Linnell's father. It will be brutal, not to say worse, in my opinion and on my part. Pray reconsider it, if it is not too late. It very much troubles me, as a crime in which I shall be the principal. Pray excuse this hearty expostulation, and believe me to be,
Sunday Afternoon.
P.S.—Fincham is a pupil of Abernethy's. This is what gives me great pleasure. I did not know it before yesterday,—from Mr. Fincham.
The child was to have been named after the artist as a mark of friendly respect; but was eventually called James, and the fulfilment of the intention postponed till the birth of the next boy, who did take Blake's name. Both brothers were destined to became famous in the picture-loving world. The art of landscape-painting will be indebted not only to the John Linnell whom two generations have delighted, and many more will delight to honour, but to the Linnell family collectively. Time after time, James and William Linnell have evinced capabilities which might carry them onward to almost any point of attainment in the art. In both we recognise keen, fresh, strong feeling, vivid perception, plenteous, expressive, sometimes startling realisation; qualities which they are able to develop and combine in a form equally grateful to the ruralist and to the lover of art.
Dear Sir, —
If this notice should be too short for your convenience, please to let me know. But finding myself well enough to come, I propose to set out from here as soon after ten as we can on Thursday morning. Our carriage will be a cabriolet (a vehicle, like the hackney coach, extinct these forty years, in which the driver sat on a sort of perch beside his fare). For though getting
