To-day the papers are full of it, and it _was_ the Royal Exchange,
Lloyd's, and all the shops round the building. Called on Browne and went
with him to see the ruins, of which we saw as much as we should have
done if we had stopped at home.

_Sunday, January 14th, 1838._

To church in the morning, and when I came home I wrote the preceding
portion of this diary, which henceforth I make a steadfast resolution
not to neglect, or _paint_. I have not done it yet, nor will I; but say
what rises to my lips--my mental lips at least--without reserve. No
other eyes will see it, while mine are open in life, and although I
daresay I shall be ashamed of a good deal in it, I should like to look
over it at the year's end.

In Scott's diary, which I have been looking at this morning, there are
thoughts which have been mine by day and by night, in good spirits and
bad, since Mary died.

"Another day, and a bright one to the external world again opens on us;
the air soft, and the flowers smiling, and the leaves glittering. They
cannot refresh her to whom mild weather was a natural enjoyment.
Cerements of lead and of wood already hold her; cold earth must have her
soon. But it is not . . . (she) who will be laid among the ruins. . . .
She is sentient and conscious of my emotions _somewhere_--where, we cannot
tell, how, we cannot tell; yet would I not at this moment renounce the
mysterious yet certain hope that I shall see her in a better world, for
all that this world can give me.

* * * * *

"I have seen her. There is the same symmetry of form, though those limbs
are rigid which were once so gracefully elastic; but that yellow masque
with pinched features, which seems to mock life rather than emulate it,
can it be the face that was once so full of lively expression? I will
not look upon it again."

I know but too well how true all this is.

_Monday, January 15th, 1838._

Here ends this brief attempt at a diary. I grow sad over this checking
off of days, and can't do it.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Mr. W. L. Sammins.]

48, DOUGHTY STREET, LONDON, _January 31st, 1839._

SIR,

Circumstances have enabled me to relinquish my old connection with the
"Miscellany"[7] at an earlier period than I had expected. I am no longer
its editor, but I have referred your pap