ed, life would present no worthier, happier task, than that of so
bearing ourselves towards those we love, that we might ever after find
nothing but melodious tranquillity breathing about their graves! Yet,
too often, I feel the difficulty of always practicing such mild wisdom
towards those who are still left me.--You will wonder less at my
rambling off in this way, when I tell you that my little lodging is
close to a picturesque old Church and Churchyard, where, every day, I
brush past a tombstone, recording that an Italian, of Manferrato, has
buried there a girl of sixteen, his only daughter: _'L' unica speranza
di mia vita_.'--No doubt, as you say, our Mechanical Age is necessary as
a passage to something better; but, at least, do not let us go back."--

At the New-year time, feeling unusually well, he returns to Clifton. His
plans, of course, were ever fluctuating; his movements were swift and
uncertain. Alas, his whole life, especially his winter-life, had to be
built as if on wavering drift-sand; nothing certain in it, except if
possible the "two or three hours of work" snatched from the general
whirlpool of the dubious four-and-twenty!

_To Dr. Carlyle_.

"_Clifton, January 10th_, 1841.--I stood the sharp frost at Torquay
with such entire impunity, that at last I took courage, and resolved to
return home. I have been here a week, in extreme cold; and have suffered
not at all; so that I hope, with care I may prosper in spite of medical
prognostics,--if you permit such profane language. I am even able to
work a good deal; and write for some hours every morning, by dint
of getting up early, which an Arnott stove in my study enables me to
do."--But at Clifton he cannot continue. Again, before long, the rude
weather has driven him Southward; the spring finds him in his former
haunts; doubtful as ever what to decide upon for the future; but tending
evidently towards a new change of residence for household and self:--

_To W. Coningham, Esq_.

"_Penzance, April 19th_, 1841.--My little Boy and I have been wandering
about between Torquay and this place; and latterly have had my Father
for a few days with us,--he left us yesterday. In all probability I
shall endeavor to settle either at Torquay, at Falmouth, or here; as it
is pretty clear that I cannot stand the sharp air of Clifton, and
still less the London east-winds. Penzance is, on the whole, a
pleasant-looking, c