ABSTRACT
Your friend Wordsworth has a most zealous admirer in our Octagon minister, Mr. Madge. He read, at our Philosophical Society, a dissertation on the poems of Wordsworth, in which he placed them above everything past, present, or to come. I approve the simplicity, love the feeling, and admire the painting they display, yet my enthusiasm has not attained so high a pitch. I have however not hitherto read ‘The Excursion’.
