e, which have
been handed over to the Editor of this Magazine, in which it is
to be hoped they will shortly appear, retaining his accustomed
signature.

"He has himself not obscurely hinted that his employment lay in a
public office. The gentlemen in the Export department of the East
India House will forgive me, if I acknowledge the readiness with
which they assisted me in the retrieval of his few manuscripts.
They pointed out in a most obliging manner the desk at which he
had been planted for forty years; showed me ponderous tomes of
figures, in his own remarkably neat hand, which, more properly
than his few printed tracts, might be called his 'Works.' They
seemed affectionate to his memory, and universally commended his
expertness in book-keeping. It seems he was the inventor of some
ledger, which should combine the precision and certainty of the
Italian double entry (I think they called it) with the brevity
and facility of some newer German system--but I am not able to
appreciate the worth of the discovery. I have often heard him
express a warm regard for his associates in office, and how
fortunate he considered himself in having his lot thrown
in amongst them. There is more sense, more discourse, more
shrewdness, and even talent, among these clerks (he would say)
than in twice the number of authors by profession that I have
conversed with. He would brighten up sometimes upon the 'old
days of the India House,' when he consorted with Woodroffe, and
Wissett, and Peter Corbet (a descendant and worthy representative,
bating the point of sanctity, of old facetious Bishop Corbet), and
Hoole who translated Tasso, and Bartlemy Brown whose father (God
assoil him therefore) modernised Walton--and sly warm-hearted old
Jack Cole (King Cole they called him in those days), and Campe,
and Fombelle--and a world of choice spirits, more than I can
remember to name, who associated in those days with Jack Burrell
(the _bon vivant_ of the South Sea House), and little Eyton (said
to be a _facsimile_ of Pope--he was a miniature of a gentleman)
that was cashier under him, and Dan Voight of the Custom House
that left the famous library.

"Well, Elia is gone--for aught I know, to be reunited with
them--and these poor traces of his pen are all we have to show for
it. How little survives of t