Buckland, June 8th, 1829 The next letter begins by explaining how the publication of Southey’s dedication poem has brought her many responses, some more welcome than others; e.g. Mary Howitt, whose poems she admires, has written to her. ‘Probably you know something of these Quaker poets; I take to them mightily.’ She then moves to a lighter note, on an apparently unrelated topic, which might however not be unconnected to her secret feelings about being the subject of such a dedication by a married man:

If it were not for bringing a scandal upon my habitation, I could tell tales of my favourite pigeons, evincing as profligate disregard of propriety as the blackbirds have shown, and utterly confuting the old comparative saying ‘As constant as a Turtle.’ I have a pigeon called ‘Blue Tom,’ who, with Grizzle his wife, was for some time sole occupant of my little dove-cot, of which, though two other pairs have since been added to the inhabitants, he has always kept mastery. But for more than a twelvemonth he and Grizzle dwelt alone there, patterns of connubial happiness and decorum, so long as the lady could take her pastime abroad with her lord and make herself agreeable. But the cares of a family came on; she very properly stuck close to her eggs, and when she came out to shake herself Blue Tom occasionally took his turn of sitting. But then I suppose he considered his duty ended, and on the second morning of Grizzle’s seclusion he flew away to Lymington, his first flight there; seduced a dirty yellow hen pigeon from perhaps a disconsolate mate, and brought her home in triumph, assigning her no better lodging here, however, than the eaves of the house, and never taking any notice of her when his old wife came out of doors, though at other times he brought her to feed at the window where I throw food to them, and flew about the garden and fields with her on the most social terms. The most wicked part of the business was to follow; when the young pigeons were hatched and thriving, and their mama able to leave her nursery, Blue Tom half murdered the yellow unfortunate, and he and Grizzle united forces to drive her fairly off the premises; no easy matter, as I suppose she was outlawed at home, and could hardly hope for even a separate maintenance. So much for Turtle-dove constancy! But what a strange anomaly! was it not? I am afraid there must be something morally deteriorating in the air of this place. At last I settled two more pairs in the dove-cot, and ever since Blue Tom has passed his widowed hours very contentedly in their society without fetching home an extra partner. I think I shall send this anecdote to Colburn for his new journal of scandal. (Dowden, pp. 166-7)