Sunday. March 4th.

Dearest Henrietta’s birthday.[1] May God bless & preserve her & make her happy!— Did I write down in my diary last Tuesday that Bummy wrote to Miss Battie to ask Mr. Battie to enquire of Hatchard[2] whether he wd. read my ms of Prometheus, & consent to publish it together with about 30 original poems, in the case of his approving it? I think —indeed I see—that I did not. An answer may arrive today. Nay or yea? Nay!—in my opinion; tho’ B says differently.

No answer.

Instead of preaching at the gate today, Mr. Curzon sent us word that he was not quite well.

1. Her 23rd.

2. John Hatchard (1769–1849), the publisher, of Piccadilly, London. The Batties have not been identified.


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