and for adding that his Royal Highness had lived for "upwards of half a century without doing any thing to deserve the admiration of his contemporaries or the gratitude of posterity." Words to that effect, and I believe better, but I do not quite remember them. They might be easily ascertained by reference to Peel's Coffee-house, and the words of the Post too.*

*In 1813 Hunt was sent to jail for satirizing the Prince Regent; in 1845 Thackeray published, in Punch, an epitaph upon George IV., and there seems to have been no attempt made to punish him for his temerity. Thirty years had wrought great changes in England, and it was now safe to speak the truth, even about royalty. The epitaph (one of a series of brief sketches of the Georges) is not to be found in many editions of Thackeray's works, and may be new to some

"He left an example for age and for youth
To avoid.

He never acted well by Man or Woman,
And was as false to his Mistress as to his Wife.
He deserted his Friends and his Principles.
He was so Ignorant that he could scarcely Spell;
But he had some Skill in Cutting out Coats,
And an undeniable Taste for Cookery.

He built the Palaces of Brighton and of Buckingham,
And for these qualities and Proofs of Genius,
An admiring Aristocracy

Christened him the First Gentleman in Europe.'
Friends, respect the KING whose Statue is here,
And the generous Aristocracy who admired him."

Besides the fine, my imprisonment cost me several hundred pounds (I can't exactly say how many) in monstrous douceurs to the gaoler for liberty to walk in the garden, for help towards getting me permission to fit up rooms in the sick hospital, and for fitting up said rooms, or rather converting them from sorts of washhouses, hitherto uninhabited and unfloored, into comfortable apartments,-which I did too expensively, at least as far as papering the sitting-room with a trellis of roses went, and having my ceiling painted to imitate an out-ofdoor sky. . .

THOMAS CARLYLE TO THOMAS MURRAY.

ANNAN, August, 1814.

O Tom, what a foolish flattering creature thou art! To talk of future eminence in connection with the literary history of the nineteenth century to such a one as me! Alas! my good lad, when I and all my fancies and reveries and speculations shall have been swept over with the besom of oblivion, the literary history of no century will feel itself the worse. Yet think not, because I talk thus, I am careless of literary fame. No; Heaven knows that ever

since I have been able to form a wish, the wish of being known has been the foremost.

O Fortune! thou that givest unto each his portion in this dirty planet, bestow (if it shall please thee) coronets, and crowns, and principalities, and purses, and pudding, and powers upon the great and noble and fat ones of the earth. Grant me that, with a heart of independence unyielding to thy favors and unbending to thy frowns, I may attain to literary fame; and though starvation be my lot, I will smile that I have not been born a king.

But alas! my dear Murray, what am I, or what are you, or what is any other poor unfriended stripling in the ranks of learning? . . .

...

THOMAS CARLYLE TO HIS MOTHER.

EDINBURGH, January 10, 1821.

I am afraid that you take my case too deeply to heart. It is true, I am toiling on the waves, and my vessel looks but like a light canoe, yet surely the harbor is before me, and in soberness when I compare my tackle with that of others, I cannot doubt hardly that I shall get within the pier at last. Without figure, I am not a genius, but a rather sharp

youth, discontented and partly mismanaged, ready to work at aught but teaching, and to be satisfied with the ordinary recompense of every honest son of Adam, food and raiment and common respectability. Can I fail to get them if I continue steadfast? No, I cannot fail. The way, indeed, is weary; it leads through a dry, parched land wherein few waters be; but how happy it is that I journey unattended by Remorse! that my conscience, though it wound, does not sting me; that my heart, when it faints, does not condemn! I ought to be grateful that it is so; and to bear these "light afflictions" calmly-they are not sent without need.

You observe, Mother, I talk about my own affairs most fluently, yet there are other affairs about which I am any thing rather than indifferent. It will be changing the direction more than the nature of my thoughts (for this also is one of my concerns) if I inquire particularly into your situation at Mainhill. How are you? Tell me largely when you write. I hear your health is feeble; I conjure you to be careful of it. Do you get tea-the weary tea-alone now? By the little table ben the house? I

advise you to use it frequently; it is excellent for weak stomachs. And do not, I entreat you, let any considerations of thrift or such things restrain you in those cases. None of us is rich, but we should certainly be poor indeed if among us we could not muster enough for such a purpose. Keep yourself from cold most carefully this unhealthy season, and read the Worthies or any thing that will satisfy that high enthusiasm of your mind, which, however you may disbelieve it, is quite of a piece with my own. Do you still get the Repository? I observe there is to be a fresh Magazine at Glasgow, embracing the interests of the United Secession Church. I wish it could be got for you.

But here I must end. A happy new year to you, my dear Mother, and many, many of them -to be a blessing to us all! Write to me next time in the most ample manner. My best love to all the children.

THOMAS CARLYLE TO HIS BROTHER, JOHN CARLYLE. EDINBURGH, March, 1822.

My condition is rather strange at present. I feel as if I were impelled to write; as if I had also very little power to do it; but