r pent walls without relief day after day, all
the golden hours of the day between 10 and 4 without ease or
interposition. Taedet me harum quotidianarum formarum, these
pestilential clerk faces always in one's dish. O for a few years between
the grave and the desk! they are the same, save that at the latter you
are outside the machine. The foul enchanter--letters four do form his
name--Busirane is his name in hell--that has curtailed you of some
domestic comforts, hath laid a heavier hand on me, not in present
infliction, but in taking away the hope of enfranchisement. I dare not
whisper to myself a Pension on this side of absolute incapacitation and
infirmity, till years have sucked me dry. Otium cum indignitate. I had
thought in a green old age (O green thought!) to have retired to
Ponder's End--emblematic name how beautiful! in the Ware road, there to
have made up my accounts with Heaven and the Company, toddling about
between it and Cheshunt, anon stretching on some fine Izaac Walton
morning to Hoddesdon or Amwell, careless as a Beggar, but walking,
walking ever, till I fairly walkd myself off my legs, dying walking!

The hope is gone. I sit like Philomel all day (but not singing) with my
breast against this thorn of a Desk, with the only hope that some
Pulmonary affliction may relieve me. Vide Lord Palmerston's report of
the Clerks in the war office (Debates, this morning's Times) by which it
appears in 20 years, as many Clerks have been coughd and catarrhd out of
it into their freer graves.

Thank you for asking about the Pictures. Milton hangs over my fire side
in Covt. Card, (when I am there), the rest have been sold for an old
song, wanting the eloquent tongue that should have set them off!

You have gratifyd me with liking my meeting with Dodd. For the Malvolio
story--the thing is become in verity a sad task and I eke it out with
any thing. If I could slip out of it I sh'd be happy, but our chief
reputed assistants have forsaken us. The opium eater crossed us once
with a dazzling path, and hath as suddenly left us darkling; and in
short I shall go on from dull to worse, because I cannot resist the
Bookseller's importunity--the old plea you know of authors, but I
believe on my part sincere.

Hartley I do not so often see, but I never see him in unwelcome hour. I
thoroughly love and honor him.

I send you a frozen Epistle, but it is winter and dead time of the year
with me. May heaven keep something like sp