I woke early and read in bed Crabbe's Life. It did not much interest me. I take no pleasure in Crabbe's unpoetical representations of human life. And though no one can dispute that he had a powerful pen, and could truthfully portray what he saw, yet he had an eye only for the sad realities of life. As Mrs. Barbauld said to me many years ago, "I shall never be tired of Goldsmith's Deserted Village — I shall never look again into Crabbe's Village. Indeed this impression is so strong, that I have never read in his later works, and know little about them."