‘My dear Sir,—Hitherto when I have parted from you in town, I resigned myself to the evil, and knowing that you loved not what is called correspondence—too often, I grant, a very grievous tax on time and patience—I said in my heart, “Farewell till we meet again,” but I have not this time the former resignation. I want to know where you dwell, how you are, what you are doing, and sometimes whether you think of me. I want to read your verses as they come and while they are yet in that changeable state between their first birth and their commitment into the furnace of the compositor.
‘I miss your morning conversation—your anecdotes—your good humour, and even your tyranny and arbitrary rule over me, for which Heaven forgive you.
‘I ordered two clean notes from my brother Timbrell’s bank—brother by a kind of civil latitude of speech; our children married—and a clerk has sent me the things I repay you with, indeed, I can command none more unsullied.
‘Mr. Murray
keeps me employed, but I have a sad affair to communicate. Mr. Colburn, at whose library I was accustomed
to meet Miss Carr, and whom I have known and dealt with,
by subscription to his collection of novels, &c., and who knew that I was
employed in writing a poem (which he calls Recollections, not recollecting the
name I gave it), and who always appeared to wish that he might publish for me,
though he never in any one speech approximated to the business, nor were any
terms
| CRABBE'S BUSINESS ANXIETIES | 285 |
‘I hope you are entirely well, and all at Highbury. My son John, who is with me, wants much to know a gentleman who is so kind to his father. My Hampstead friends are detained by the sickness of one in the family and come not yet to Bath. Would that you loved that place of comfort and repose, at least to all who are not members of its peculiar clubs and associations.
| 286 | ROGERS AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES |
‘But I will not detain you. I could not keep to myself this attack upon my peace, but I cannot seriously apprehend mischief. Mr. Colburn talks of his damages, they are 3,000l., for, he says, a publisher expects to gain as much as he gives. The information is curious, and the note Mr. C. makes of it still more so.
‘My best remembrances to Miss Rogers and her brother.
‘Will you not tell me how you proceed? I shall be unfeignedly glad to hear.
‘I was invited to meet Mr. Moore lately, but the place was too distant and the night too cold, and I did not go. Fortune is against our meeting, but has been very kind in some others, and I ought not to complain.
‘If you should see Mr. Murray, would you speak of this man’s claim on me?—though I know not what it is,—but he probably considers it as beneath his notice, and that is what I would do, but I am not sure that I can.
‘This is very blameably begging your time—pardon me.
‘Thanks for the loan of the notes, I had nearly omitted them—grateful people are not the most thankful, are they?’
